My Husband Wants To Kill Me

By chance, I discovered my husband Eddy wasn't just cheating on me—he was in cahoots with a mysterious woman to murder our child. The evidence? Two horrifying messages on his phone. After dinner, as Eddy disappeared into the bathroom, his phone lay on the antique coffee table beside the couch where I lounged, feeling under the weather. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the screen light up twice. We both deeply respected each other's privacy, so I continued to zone out. But the phone kept blinking, messages pouring in, pinging non-stop for a good two minutes. My peace shattered, curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced over. Unknown: Darling, did you do it? The latest message flashed on the screen. 'Darling?' My heart clenched. Eddy was a straightforward, rational man with no fancy flings. Since we'd met, there had never been a whisper of scandal. Could this be some cruel joke from a friend? But the next second, another message popped up. Unknown: If you don't kill her now, and she finds out the miscarriage was because of you... The message cut off, too long for the display. It felt like a bomb had gone off in my brain, leaving a void in its wake. Instinctively, I reached for the phone, but at that moment, the bathroom door clicked. "Babe, have you seen my new underwear?" I quickly withdrew my hand, hiding it behind me as I trembled slightly. Eddy came out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He was using a towel to dry his hair as water droplets clung to his thick chest hair. Looking at his handsome, familiar face, I felt suddenly disoriented. How could he suddenly seem so alien? Noticing my bewildered expression, he came over and pinched my cheek. "What's wrong, darling? You look a bit pale. Feeling okay?" I just sat there, unresponsive, eyes fixed on him like a statue. "Babe, you're kind of scaring me here." He didn't bother looking for his underwear anymore. Quickly drying off, he sat down and pulled me into his arms. As he touched me, something inside me broke, and I collapsed against him, my throat choked with sobs. "Eddy, tell me, would our child have looked more like you or like me?" "I thought you were moving past that." Eddy frowned, his eyes filled with worry and sorrow. "Babe, I'm sorry I haven't been there enough for you. Let's forget our unborn child, alright? She's with God now. What you need is to rest, eat well, and recover quickly. Trust me. We'll have another child soon." His soothing words intertwined with the chilling messages on his phone, tugging at my heartstrings. Was my miscarriage really not an accident? ***** Four months into the pregnancy, I had gone to the hospital for a routine check-up, only to be told by the doctor that there was no heartbeat and the only option was to induce labor. As the doctor apologized, I stood up, overwhelmed, shouting, "Is sorry supposed to make a difference? Can your apology bring my child's heartbeat back? I don't need your sorry—I need my child!" In the end, I was inconsolable, and Eddy had to carry me out of the hospital. During the procedure, I was dazed, barely aware, the operating room's bright lights turning my world ghostly pale. Under partial anesthesia, the last thing I remembered was the doctor whispering to an assistant, "It's a girl. What a pity." Tears instantly streamed down my face. Afterward, with no clear explanation, the doctor dismissed me with a "It could be a genetic defect." Since then, I've been a different person, my daily routine lost, sometimes sleeping till afternoon. But on other nights, sleep evaded me entirely. ***** I had barely accepted reality, and now I was being told my daughter might have been murdered! Oh God, why did that b***h in the messages know about my miscarriage? If what the messages said was true, if Eddy, the father of my child, really killed our baby, what was his motive? Was it to be with that b***h?! And now they wanted to kill me too! "Babe, the tub's refilled. How about I carry you to the bath?" Eddy held me, perhaps feeling my slight shiver, gently patting my back. "Sweetie, trust me, everything will get better." Hearing his words, I shivered involuntarily but managed a weak nod. The next moment, I was in his arms, my cheek against his warm and muscular chest. After the bath, he had me lie on his lap to dry my hair, his movements tender. He always treated me like a precious, fragile piece of porcelain, one wrong move and I'd shatter. In fact, he seemed like a perfect lover... My heart wrestled with itself. I desperately wanted to believe him, unwilling to discredit him over two anonymous messages. 'Eddy still loves me, right?' I wondered. 'There has to be a mix-up!' As I lay on his lap, I reached under his bathrobe, gently caressing his d**k.