Goodbye, Toxic Love

Chapter 3

"Ethan, my heart condition…" My chest tightened, and I gasped for air. "Please, take me to the hospital. I’m having an attack."

Before I could finish, Ethan’s annoyed voice came through the phone. "Lauren, I’ve given you the privilege of staying at home doing nothing, and now you think you can push it even further?"

"I already told you I’m taking Cece to the hospital for a check-up. What other tricks are you trying to pull?"

"No, Ethan, I’m seriously sick, please, come back and open the door. I could die if you don’t." I struggled to keep my voice steady, trying to explain to him.

"Well, if you like dying so much, then go ahead," came a harsh shout from Chris on the other end of the line. "You might as well apologize to Aunt Cece while you’re at it."

I froze.

I never imagined that my son, the one I carried for ten months, could say something like that to me.

"Ethan, you know about my heart condition…" I clung to the last shred of hope, reaching out to him.

His tone was dripping with sarcasm. "That’s an old issue, Lauren. How come I didn’t see before how manipulative you’ve become?"

"I’m really going to die, Ethan! Please come back and open the door, just this once!" My voice cracked, desperate.

The sensation in my chest grew sharper, each beat feeling like it could be my last. It was as if I was gasping for air with every breath.

He had seen me have these attacks before—he knew how dangerous they could be.

In the past, when I couldn’t reach him, I’d just find my own way to the hospital. But today, I’d stayed home, trying not to disturb them, to reflect on myself as he had asked.

But he had locked the door.

I called again, but he hung up immediately.

When I tried a third time, the call was blocked.

Cold sweat broke out on my face.

I had never felt this hopeless before.

He was supposed to be the one I could count on, the one everyone thought was my rock.

I still remembered back in high school when he blushed and asked me where I was applying for college. I remembered the day the acceptance letters came, and he brought me a bouquet of bright red roses to confess his feelings. We went to the same university, from school uniforms to wedding dresses.

When I gave birth to Chris, Ethan, who never posted on social media, made an exception and posted: "From now on, I’ll protect you with our son."

And now this was his idea of protection.

In a panic, I dialed the fire department. Before I lost consciousness, I told them my condition and gave them my address.

I don’t know how much time passed, but when I woke up, the first thing I smelled was the sterile scent of disinfectant.

The sky outside had already brightened. I must have been unconscious all night.

A firefighter stood by my bed.

Seeing that I was awake, he quickly helped me sit up.

"Madam, how are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you." I forced a smile to reassure him.

Once he saw I was okay, he grabbed a stack of papers from a nearby cabinet.

"We couldn’t reach your family, so here’s your bill. If everything’s fine, I need to head back to the station."

I thanked him and told him I could handle it from there.

The firefighter left.

I stared at the IV drip, the rhythm of the fluid dripping steadily. My heart felt numb with each drop.

When the last bag was finished, I stood up and went downstairs to pay the bill.

As luck would have it, I ran into Ethan and Chris in the stairwell.

They looked so much alike, their faces mirroring a shared expression of disdain.

"Who told you to come here?" Ethan’s voice was cold. "You’ve already caused enough trouble by getting Cece infected. What do you want now?"

Chris ran up and shoved me, shouting, "You poisonous woman! I don’t want you to be my mom anymore."

From Cece’s gleeful expression, I knew it for sure—she had tampered with the needle.

That’s why she insisted on coming back for a follow-up exam.

They had no idea I’d been hospitalized last night. They thought I was just trailing behind, trying to continue framing Cece.

My heart was completely shattered.

I looked at the two of them, my voice surprisingly calm. "Ethan, let’s get a divorce."