I Found His Letter, I Ruined His Plan

In the fourth month of her pregnancy, Linda Queen discovered a suicide note written by her husband. The date of receipt was three days away, the day David Brown was scheduled to go on a mission. Lucy, if you're reading this, then I'm probably already dead. Don't waste your tears on me. Linda's fingers began to tremble. A tightening pain shot through her pregnant belly. She frantically continued flipping through the pages. All of my assets are now yours. If Linda asks, tell her this: I married her only out of a sense of duty. Linda turned page after page, her fingertips growing cold. That suicide note tore apart everything she'd once believed was happiness. She had turned down a government-sponsored overseas study program because, the night before she was to submit her application, David had confessed his love to her in a grand gesture and kept her by his side. She had missed out on an invitation from a top-tier international hospital because David said he hoped his wife would stay closer to him. She had even agreed to the high-risk pregnancy because David had shown a longing for children, and she had thought it was an extension of their love. It turned out that every turn her life took, every career sacrifice she made, had all been to pave the way for Lucy Green. David, this resolute and respected special operations commander on the battlefield, had used all his meticulous planning and cunning to quietly sacrifice his own wife's future for another woman. A violent wave of nausea rose up. A tearing, cramping pain shot through her lower abdomen. Warm blood trickled down her thighs. Just before she lost consciousness, she saw the last line of the scattered suicide note. Lucy, the thing I feel most sorry for you in this life is that I cannot marry you... When Linda woke up again, she was in a hospital room at the military general hospital. The smell of disinfectant was all too familiar. The dull ache in her empty abdomen reminded her that the baby was gone. Lucy's voice, choked with tears, came from nearby, speaking with David. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't made a mistake during yesterday's rehearsal and almost caused an accident, and if you hadn't aggravated your old injury protecting me, you would have gotten home earlier and noticed something was wrong with Linda..." Linda closed her eyes. Her stomach churned. So while she was losing her child, he was getting injured protecting another woman, and that woman, as a doctor, was legitimately by his side. "Don't say that, Lucy." David's voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion. "Protecting my team members is my duty and my instinct. I just feel sorry for Linda." Linda turned her head with difficulty. Through the gap in her eyelashes, she saw David patting Lucy's back soothingly, as if they were comrades-in-arms and partners who bore the risks and pain of the mission together. Linda bit her lower lip hard. The rusty taste of blood spread in her mouth. After comforting Lucy, David turned and walked toward the hospital bed. Linda immediately closed her eyes and held her breath. He sat down, took her cold hand in his. The thin calluses on his palm from years of gun handling brushed against the back of her hand. The warmth that had once comforted her heart now only sent chills through her bones. "Linda," he pressed his forehead against the back of her hand, his voice muffled and hoarse, "I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you two..." A hot liquid dripped onto her skin, burning it. Who was he crying for? The child they lost? Lucy's tears? Or the lie he had carefully woven and now found hard to clean up? Not until he and Lucy were called away by a nurse to sign documents did Linda slowly open her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. As a doctor, she knew better than anyone that losing this child, given her physical condition, might mean she would never have the chance to be a mother again. And all of it came from her husband's obsession with another woman. She reached for the phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up, its cold light reflecting on her pale face. She unlocked it, opened her email, and found the message from Doctors Without Borders. The organization had invited her three times to join their rescue program in conflict zones. The first two times, she had declined because of David's "needs" and "concerns." The third time was on the day she confirmed her pregnancy. With hopes of a happy future, she had clicked "delete." Now, with steady fingers, she typed out a reply to that email. "Hello, I am Linda Queen. Regarding your previous invitation, if there is still an opening, I wish to join as soon as possible. I can leave anytime."