“Millicent, I can’t go with you to the prenatal checkup. Rita is going abroad, and I have to see her off.”I grasped his wrist, pleading, “Just half an hour. Wait until I’m done, then we’ll go together, okay?”Christopher pulled his hand away, his brow tightening. “Don’t be childish.
You can handle the checkup on your own.”I watched his figure fade down the corridor, the warmth of his wrist still lingering on my skin.After the checkup, I sat alone on the hospital bench, surrounded by couples chatting and laughing.
I cupped my belly, pulled out my phone, and called the obstetrics department.”Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion for tomorrow.”
“Alright, may I ask if this is your first pregnancy?”
“Yes.””Are you certain?”I lifted my eyes and saw the man in the corridor, peeling an orange for his pregnant wife.”Yes.”
Farewell, My Faithless Husband Chapter 1
My name is Millicent Doyle, and today is the day of my prenatal checkup at eight weeks pregnant.
The one accompanying me to the hospital is my husband, Christopher Woodward.
We’ve been married for a year—our marriage was arranged between families.
Just as the nurse called my name, Christopher’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting in an instant, then walked to the end of the corridor to answer.
I stood at the door of the exam room, faintly catching the urgency in his voice, and the words, “I’ll definitely send you off.”
When he hung up, he returned to my side, his tone touched with a barely noticeable guilt, but without the slightest hesitation.
“Millicent, I can’t come with you to the prenatal checkup. Rita’s leaving the country, and I have to see her off one last time.”
Rita Hawking is his assistant, been working with him for six months now.
I’ve seen her a few times, and there’s always been something in the way she looks at Christopher that feels… different.
Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist.
The little life growing inside me isn’t even fully formed yet, and right now, more than anything, I need him by my side.
“Christopher, the checkup won’t take long—just half an hour. When I’m done, can we go together? Please?”
I softened my voice, even begging a little.
I knew I was lowering myself, but I truly didn’t want to face this alone.
Christopher Woodward gently pulled his hand away from mine, his brow knitting into a frown.
“Millicent, don’t be childish. Rita is leaving the country this time, and she might never return. You can manage the prenatal checkup on your own.”
His words felt like an icy needle piercing through my heart, chilling me to the bone.
I looked at him, wanting to say something, but my throat tightened, and no words came out.
He didn’t look back and turned away, his steps quick and restless, as if even staying another second would torment him.
I stood frozen, watching his silhouette disappear around the corner of the corridor.
The warmth from his wrist still lingered on my fingertips, but inside, I felt desolate.
The nurse called my name once more.
I took a deep breath and walked into the consultation room by myself.
The doctor smiled, saying the baby was healthy, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel any joy.
Outside the room, I watched other pregnant women coming and going with their families, while I stood there completely alone.
I placed my hand over my still-flat belly and, in that instant, made a firm decision.
This child—I don’t want it.
Christopher Woodward—I don’t want him anymore, either.
I didn’t go home.
Instead, I contacted the hospital and booked the surgery for the next day.
That night, I spent alone in a hotel near the hospital, didn’t send Christopher a single message, and he didn’t try to contact me.
The surgery went smoothly the next day.
When I woke, a faint heaviness tugged at my lower belly, but inside I felt unnervingly calm.
I didn’t tell anyone.
I handled the discharge alone and returned to our home.
The house was large and beautifully finished, yet it held not a shred of warmth.
I sat on the couch deep into the night before Christopher finally came home.
Farewell, My Faithless Husband Chapter 2
The moment he stepped through the door, an unfamiliar scent of perfume greeted me—not mine, not the one he usually wore.
It was a sweet, fruity fragrance, tinged with a carefully crafted gentleness that reminded me unmistakably of Rita Hawking.
I lifted my eyes to him, my gaze landing on his neck where a faint red mark showed—like a bite.
Everything clicked—he was taking Rita away, but it wasn’t just a simple see-off.
Christopher seemed to notice my stare and instinctively pulled up his collar, his expression betraying unease.
“Why didn’t you turn on the light?” He avoided my eyes, his voice distant and dismissive.
I didn’t answer.
I just looked at him steadily and said, word by word, “Christopher, let’s get a divorce.”
He froze, as if he hadn’t quite caught what I said, frowning as he asked, “What did you just say?”
“Divorce.” I repeated it, my voice steady and calm, as if talking about something that no longer concerned me.
Christopher Woodward’s expression darkened.
He stepped in front of me, looking down with a hint of disdain: “Millicent, have you made your point? All this over me not going to your prenatal checkup?”
I stared at his false, put-on look and suddenly couldn’t help but laugh dryly to myself.
I thought back to when we first got married—he wasn’t like this then.
Back then, even though our marriage was a family arrangement without deep feelings, we still managed to get along quite well.
He would have meals with me, watch movies by my side, take care of me when I was ill, and hold my hand while saying, “Millicent, I will never betray you in this life. I promise to treat you well.”
I once truly believed those words, and slowly, my heart began to soften—I thought we could weather life’s ups and downs together.
But then Rita Hawking came into the picture, and everything changed.
She was Christopher Woodward’s new assistant — young, beautiful, with a sweet tongue and keen sense of how to please him.
At first, I told myself it was just a normal boss-assistant relationship, until I saw them sharing meals, him shielding her from drinks, gently fixing her hair.
I couldn’t help but question him, but he flipped it back on me—calling me petty and accusing me of making a big deal out of nothing.
He said Rita Hawking was just his assistant, and I shouldn’t read too much into it.
He told me that as his wife, I needed to be more forgiving and stop holding on to every little thing.
Watching him stand up for Rita like that, it felt like my heart was being sliced open.
That time, we fought so bitterly.
I cried for what felt like hours, but he never once tried to soothe me.
It wasn’t until the next day that he knelt in front of me, tears streaming down his face, begging me to believe that his feelings for Rita had been a moment of weakness and promising to cut all ties with her for good.
He clung to my legs, apologizing over and over, saying he couldn’t live without me and that he would make it up to me properly in time.
My heart softened, and I ended up forgiving him.
But deep down, I knew some things, once shattered, could never be put back together.
Farewell, My Faithless Husband Chapter 3
From that moment on, all I could feel toward him was numbness—no hope, no waves of emotion.
I thought he would at least keep his promise, but I never imagined he would break it.
Christopher Woodward looked into my steady eyes and seemed to realize I wasn’t just throwing a tantrum; his tone softened a little.
“Millicent, I know I was wrong. There’s really nothing going on between Rita and me. I just got too emotional sending her off. Please don’t read too much into it. Let’s not get divorced, okay?”
I shook my head, my voice still steady: “I’m not overthinking this. I’m serious — let’s get a divorce.”
Christopher’s face darkened again, impatience creeping into his tone: “Millicent, don’t be shameless. Do you honestly think you’d be better off without me?”
I looked at him, and in that moment, he felt like a complete stranger.
The Christopher who had once been gentle and caring had long since disappeared.
“Whether it’s good or not, I know myself. You don’t need to worry about it.” I said calmly.
Christopher Woodward was about to say something, but his phone suddenly rang.
He glanced at the screen, his expression flickering, then stepped aside to take the call.
After hanging up, he said coldly to me, “I’m going on a business trip for a few days. We’ll talk about the divorce when I get back. You’d better be sure about this.”
I watched his retreating back, neither stopping him nor feeling sorrow.
Once he left, I packed my things and walked away from this house filled with lies and betrayal.
I went back to my parents’ home, and the moment I stepped inside, they could tell something was wrong.
My mother took my hand gently, her voice filled with concern, “Millicent, what’s wrong? Are you feeling hurt?”
Seeing the worry in her eyes, I couldn’t hold it in any longer—tears welled up and spilled over.
With my voice trembling, I told them everything—about ending the pregnancy and my decision to divorce Christopher.
I thought they’d try to persuade me, to ask me to hold on a little longer for the sake of the family and myself.
But to my surprise, my father gave my shoulder a firm pat and said, “Millicent, you’re doing the right thing. A man like him isn’t worth your lifetime. We’ll always stand by you.”
My mother held me close, wiping away tears as she said, “Yes, Millicent, it’s alright. If the baby is gone, we can try again. If the man is gone, you can find someone new. We’ll take care of you for as long as you need.”
With my parents’ support, I felt even more resolute in my decision to divorce.
But I never expected Christopher Woodward to be so petty and ruthless.
