The Price of Wrong Love

My name is Stacy Shaw. Three years ago, on that torrential rainy night, I was slashed deeply to the bone in my abdomen by an out-of-control guardrail while pushing Caleb Lewis away from a truck that was forcing him forward. The memory of that day still feels like shards of glass soaked in icy water—any slight touch pierces with unbearable pain. The operating room lights stayed on for a full four hours. When the doctor finally removed his mask, the weight in his eyes felt like a heavy stone pressing down on my heart. "Ms. Shaw, the abdominal injury damaged your uterus. The chances of conceiving naturally in the future are less than 5%, making it very difficult for you to have children again." The smell of disinfectant in the hospital ward mixed with the sound of rain outside. Caleb Lewis knelt by the bedside, tightly clasping the hand without an IV, his knuckles white and his eyes so red they seemed ready to bleed. "Stacy, in this life, I will love only you. Even if we never have children, I will stand by you forever." His voice trembled with tears, and the guilt and tenderness in his eyes felt sincere. I looked at him, swallowed the words "It's okay," and gently patted the back of his hand. Back then, I believed that this promise forged through pain could carry us through a lifetime. Six months later, we registered our marriage at the Marriage Registration Office. The red marriage certificate was carefully placed by Caleb Lewis into a velvet box. He said he wanted to display it in the study's most prominent spot so everyone would know I was his wife. But less than a year after they married, he came home with a woman dressed in plain monk's robes. The woman was just in her early twenties, with slender eyebrows and eyes, skin as pale as rice paper, clutching a string of wooden Buddhist prayer beads. Her voice was as soft as a feather when she spoke. "Hello, Stacy. My name is Linda. I'm a lay practitioner who has been cultivating at an ancient temple on the city's outskirts." Caleb Lewis stood beside her, his tone filled with unwavering certainty. "Stacy, Linda just came down from the mountain and doesn't have anywhere to stay for now. There are many empty rooms at home. Letting her stay would also help us pray for blessings and children." I looked at him—the man who once promised to stay by my side for life—and now, the way he looked at Linda was filled with a cautiousness I had never seen before, as if afraid that even a loud noise would startle her. It felt like tiny needles pricked my chest, a sharp, persistent ache, yet I still nodded. I told myself maybe I was just overthinking, that Linda was truly only a temporary guest. But from that day on, Caleb's affection for Linda became increasingly apparent. He deliberately had the renovation crew build a small shrine in the backyard, and the incense burner and meditation cushions inside were all brought back from the Ancient Temple. He even hand-polished a string of rosewood Buddhist prayer beads; the beads were smooth and glossy, with delicate lotus patterns engraved on them. That day, I passed by the monastery and heard Linda's voice from inside—soft, with a hint of a smile. "Caleb, wearing these Buddhist prayer beads on my wrist makes my heart feel especially calm; even my worries seem lighter." Caleb Lewis's voice came next, carrying a tenderness I hadn't heard in a long time. "I'm glad you like them. After some time, I'll go to M Country to find better materials and make you an even more exquisite set." I stood outside the door, my fingers clenched so tightly they went white. Their conversation was like a dull blade slowly cutting into my heart, each word stained with the scent of blood. I turned and went back to the room, locking myself inside the wardrobe where our wedding dress still hung; now, just smelling it, I felt nothing but bitter irony. The accident came without warning. That day, during the company physical, the doctor held the ultrasound sheet and smiled. "Ms. Shaw, congratulations, you are six weeks pregnant." I stared at the tiny gestational sac on the sheet, my hands trembling as tears fell unexpectedly. It's a miracle—it's the child of Caleb Lewis and me! Holding the ultrasound report, I nearly ran all the way home, eager to share the good news with him immediately. But just as I reached the living room doorway, I heard Linda's voice, soft and gentle, again. "Caleb, Stacy is pregnant, and the 'impurities' around her are strong. If she stays in the master bedroom too often, it might disturb the Buddha and unsettle the baby." "Then what should we do? We can't just ask Stacy to move out, can we?" "Why not have Stacy kneel in the yard to chant sutras? The summer sun is warm; it can dispel those impurities and purify the aura, while praying for the baby's blessing—two birds with one stone." I pushed the door open and rushed in, unable to believe what I was hearing. "Caleb Lewis, don't listen to her nonsense! The early stages of pregnancy are the most fragile—how can you kneel out in the sun like that?" Caleb frowned at me, his eyes heavy with impatience. "Linda is doing this for your sake and the baby's. How can you be so unreasonable? She's a spiritual practitioner—she knows more than we do." "Unreasonable? This is your child! Aren't you worried something might happen to him?" "If I tell you to kneel, then kneel! Don't make things difficult for Linda, and don't let the child be affected by your 'impure energy.'" His words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over me from head to toe, dousing all my hopes and joy. I watched Linda standing to the side, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curling at the corner of her lips—a smile like a poison sting that made my eyes ache. I said nothing further, slowly walked into the courtyard, and knelt on the burning Bluestone Slab. The July sun blazed like a fireball, heating the stone slab until it burned. Through the thin fabric of my skirt, I could vividly feel the scorching pain searing my knees. Sweat dripped down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging so painfully I couldn't keep them open. A dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen, as if a gentle hand was tugging inside. I gritted my teeth, calling Caleb Lewis's name again and again, my voice shifting from choked sobs to hoarseness, but he never came out of the house. The scene before me slowly blurred; the pomegranate tree in the yard and the wooden door of the temple hall turned into double images. I tried to steady myself against the stone slab to stand, but my body felt so weak it was as if I had no bones. Then everything went black, and I completely lost consciousness. When I woke again, I was still in the familiar hospital ward, still surrounded by that familiar scent of disinfectant. The doctor stood by the bedside, his tone as cold as ice. "Ms. Shaw, I'm sorry, the baby couldn't be saved." "Your body was already weak. Combined with prolonged sun exposure and physical trauma, it caused the miscarriage." "The baby is gone..." I repeated the words, my voice barely more than a whisper, like sleep-talking. The sunlight outside the window was bright, but inside, my heart was pitch black, as if someone had hollowed it out with a shovel, leaving only endless emptiness and pain. My world utterly shattered in that moment.