I Reject My Husband Who Misses His First Love Novel by Clara _ Novel



I Reject My Husband Who Misses His First Love Novel by Clara _ Novel\

I Reject My Husband Who Misses His First Love Chapter 01

To others, my husband, Nicholas Reynolds, seemed cold and distant, but with me, he was warm and gentle, loving me deeply and never hiding behind his defenses.
I never doubted his love… until I was stuck in bed at the hospital, bored, and logged into his secret Twitter account.
He had thousands of tweets saved in his drafts—written over seven whole years.
"She got married, but the groom wasn't me."
"She's divorced. Do I still have a chance?"
In the most recent one, he wrote, "My wife is pregnant. Everyone's congratulating me, but I'm not happy at all. Why isn't it you carrying my child?"
A nurse called my name from the doorway.
I kept my face blank, wiped off my phone, stood up, and walked toward the operating room.
"Doctor, don't save the baby. Just end the pregnancy."
--
The surgical lights were blindingly white.
As the anesthesia went into my veins, a coldness deep in my bones spread to my heart.
Right before I passed out, I remembered that morning: Nicholas was by the door, kneeling down to tie my shoes.
He said, "Sorry, honey, I can't go with you, but I'll pick you up after my meeting."
If I hadn't seen those tweets, I would've thought I was the happiest woman alive.
I'd loved Nicholas for five years. He was a successful businessman who built his tech company from scratch.
We'd been married for three years, and our life together had been nothing but joy.
He remembered all of my likes and dislikes.
I hated cilantro, so he never added any of it to anything he cooked.
I got cold easily, so he always warmed the bed before I got in during winter.
All our friends envied me. They said Nicholas was the perfect husband—completely crazy about me.
I believed it, too.
But his secret account, "Still Waiting for You," destroyed everything I'd ever believed.
In seven years, he'd written over 2,500 messages to another woman—Emilia Atkinson.
She was Nicholas's childhood friend, the girl he grew up with.
She flew back with her husband to attend our wedding.
That day, she smiled brightly and said she wanted to see her best friend's happiness. Her arm was linked through her husband's.
I held her hand and thanked her. I was such a fool.
Later, when Nicholas and I toasted them, more than half his wine spilled. His eyes stared at their holding hands, full of strange feelings.
Now I realized it wasn't nervousness at all. It was jealousy.
Nicholas hated Emilia's husband. He wanted more than anything to take his place, to be with her openly, and to protect her.
A dull pain twisted in my stomach, like a knife cutting back and forth inside me.
"Ms. Rosario? Ms. Rosario?"
The nurse's urgent voice rang out.
I forced my eyes open; the ceiling was spinning.
"The procedure is done. We'll watch you for 30 minutes, then take you back to your room."
I nodded. My throat felt dry.
My hand automatically went to my belly.
It was flat now.
The small life growing inside me was gone.
This was the second baby I'd lost.
Two years ago, I miscarried. A big car crash delayed the top specialists who were supposed to treat me.
The ER doctor's emergency treatment made me bleed heavily, and it hurt my body badly for good.
When I woke up, weak all over, Nicholas held me gently.
His eyes were full of guilt.
He barely left my side for two weeks, swearing he'd never let me hurt like that again.
I knew how much he wanted kids, so I'd willingly tried again.
I drank bitter medicine for a whole year, and my belly was covered in bruises from hormone injections.
And now the baby was gone. Everything I'd done felt like a sad, stupid joke.
When the nurse wheeled me out of the operating room, the hallway was empty.
Nicholas wasn't there.
He'd said he'd come right after his meeting.
I took out my phone. As soon as it powered on, a few messages popped up in a WhatsApp group chat.
It was the one with Nicholas's childhood friends. I rarely checked it.
Someone had posted a photo. It was a candid shot, but crystal clear.
The background was that French restaurant on the South Side, one that was nearly impossible to book.
Nicholas was cutting Emilia's steak, head bowed, his normally stern profile gentle and warm.
Emilia held a small cake in her hands, smiling brightly.
The chat was blowing up.
"Millie's finally back?"
"Gotta hand it to Nicky. He wasted no time throwing a welcome-back dinner for her."
"Now the whole gang's finally back together. We've gotta grab drinks tonight."
The timestamp showed half an hour ago.
While I was on the operating table with cold tools inside me, Nicholas was with Emilia.
I turned off the screen.
My pale face stared back at me from the black glass.
A bitter, mocking smile pulled at my lips.
Nicholas, you really had me fooled.
If I hadn't found your secret messages, how long were you gonna keep acting like the perfect husband?
I threw my phone aside and closed my eyes.
Maybe it was for the best.
The baby wouldn't have to suffer in this world.
And whatever I had with Nicholas should end right here.

READ FULL NOVEL HERE