Running late for her abortion appointment, the woman realized she had left her documents in the car…

Paula Jenkins gripped the steering wheel of her red Toyota car with a death grip, as if it were the only anchor keeping her in reality. The clock on the dashboard mercilessly showed 2:47 PM, and her appointment at the clinic was at 3:00 PM sharp. She was late for her own abortion.

The bitter irony of a woman who had spent her life saving others’ lives, now driving to get rid of her own child. Get rid of, she repeated to herself, savoring the word. Let the doctors call it terminating a pregnancy or a medical procedure, but she knew the truth.

In her womb, a tiny heart was beating, tiny fingers were forming, and in a few hours, it would all turn into medical waste. It started to drizzle. Paula turned on the wipers, and they began their monotonous motion, as if counting down the last minutes of her unborn child’s life.

She was a top-tier cardiothoracic surgeon, a woman who held human hearts in her hands, making them beat again. But her own heart felt shattered to pieces, and no one could glue it back together. 35 years of life, and here she was—alone, betrayed, giving up her own child.

Three months ago, her world was different—stable, predictable, happy. Or so she thought? Alex Jenkins, her husband, the man she had tied her life to, who vowed to love her in sickness and in health, for better or worse. Beautiful words that turned out to be empty sounds.

May 21. That date was burned into her memory like a branding iron. Friday—an ordinary day that turned her life upside down.

Paula was preparing a celebratory dinner; that day marked exactly two years since their wedding. She dreamed that in the evening they would talk about children, maybe finally decide to have a baby. Alex came home with the face of a man sentenced to death.

He didn’t even say hello, just stopped in the middle of the hallway and said the words that splintered her life. Paula, we need to talk. There was no doubt in his voice, no struggle.

Only the cold determination of a man who had already decided everything and was now just performing an unpleasant formality. What happened? She asked, but from his face, she already understood that something terrible had occurred. I’m leaving you.

Four words. Four simple words that destroyed seven years of relationship, four years of living together, two years of marriage, and all their shared plans for the future. Paula stood in the middle of the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her hand.

It smelled like his favorite French fries. Candles were set on the table for a romantic dinner, and her husband was telling her it was over. What did you say? She asked again, hoping she had misheard.

I met another woman. I fell in love. I didn’t plan it, didn’t want it, but it happened.

Then he said something about how it just happened, that she was a wonderful woman, but they didn’t fit each other, that she would find someone better. The standard set of excuses that all men say when leaving their wives. Paula listened and felt something dying inside her.

Not her heart—it continued to beat with painful regularity. Her faith in love, in loyalty, in people’s ability to keep their word was dying. Who is she? Paula asked, surprised by the calmness of her own voice.

Ingrid. She works at our bank. Paula, I didn’t want it to turn out like this.

How old is she? 25. Of course. Young, fresh, without wrinkles around the eyes from night shifts in the department.

Without the baggage of lived years, without fatigue from saving strangers’ lives. How long has this been going on? Three months. Three months.

It turned out that while Paula was building plans for their family future, dreaming of children, buying him birthday gifts, he was already sleeping with another woman. Lying to her face every day, coming home after dates with his mistress and kissing her, Paula, on the lips. Getting into bed with her.

I see, she said in an emotionless voice. Tomorrow I’ll pick up my things, said Alex. I’ll file for divorce myself.

Alex tried to say something else, but Paula turned around and went to the bedroom. She locked herself in and collapsed on the bed. Tears didn’t come; inside there was only an icy emptiness.

The following days passed in a fog. Alex took his things while she was away from home. He left only a note.

Forgive me. You’ll find your happiness. Paula crumpled the paper and threw it away…