Rise From My Marriage

The morning sunlight filtered through the silk curtains, falling softly into the palm of my outstretched hand. In the warmth of that touch, two clear red lines appeared on the pregnancy test, like a cluster of flickering little flames, instantly filling my chest with warmth. My name is Fiona Lincoln, and I have been married to Kevin Shawn for three years. Over these three years, I tamed all my sharp edges, becoming the submissive wife in his eyes—and finally, I was gifted this little life. My fingertips gently brush over my flat belly, where a tiny heartbeat is growing. I imagined him furrowing his brows, pictured Kevin's surprised expression when he heard the news, unable to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. The sound of a key turning came from the entrance; I hurriedly hid the pregnancy test in the drawer. Kevin had come back. Lately, he often stayed out late, sometimes scented faintly with unfamiliar perfume. "You're back?" I stepped forward, reaching out to take his briefcase. He sidestepped me, his voice cold and distant, "Yeah, some issues at work." He went straight into the study without sparing me a glance. I stood in the center of the living room, the joy from moments ago snuffed out like cold water poured over it, a flicker of unease rising within me. Late at night, I lay in bed, listening to Kevin Shawn's steady breathing beside me. Suddenly, my phone vibrated on the bedside table, the screen lighting up, flashing the name "Vivian White." I frowned and pressed the answer button; a hysterical scream immediately echoed through the receiver. "Fiona Lincoln! I know you're pregnant! Abort that child immediately!" Vivian White's voice, cracked with madness, stabbed at my eardrums like a poisoned needle. "Kevin Shawn is mine! From the moment he was born! The Shawn family's heir cannot be a child born to a woman who clings to power like you!" Her words cut into my heart like an ice pick. My fingers trembled slightly as I held the phone; my throat tightened, and I didn't even have the strength to respond. "Did you hear me? I want to see the hospital's proof of abortion within three days!" Vivian White's voice sharpened, "If not, I'll die in front of you, so Kevin Shawn will remember forever that you were the one who killed me!" The call was abruptly ended, leaving only a busy signal in the receiver. The moonlight outside the window suddenly grew cold, and I stared at the ceiling as my heart sank deeper and deeper. Vivian White, Kevin Shawn's childhood friend. For three years, she had haunted us like a relentless shadow, appearing frequently in our lives. She would call Kevin on our wedding anniversary, saying she was ill; On my birthday, she'd give Kevin a shirt worth ten times more than my gift; She'd post childhood photos of them together on social media, captioned 'Lifelong best friends, irreplaceable.' It wasn't that I hadn't noticed; it's just that Kevin Shawn always said, "Fiona, Vivian has been friends with me since she was little; you need to be more generous." I believed him. I thought that if I were patient enough, if I loved him enough, I could revive this marriage. But now, she was actually threatening me with her life, demanding that I terminate my pregnancy. I curled up on the bed, tears soaking my pillowcase, my heart overwhelmed by unending fear. I thought Kevin would protect me, protect our child. Until the next afternoon, when an urgent call came from the Women and Children's Hospital. "May I ask if you are the family of Mr. Kevin Shawn?" The nurse's voice was anxious. "His friend, Miss Vivian White, is on the hospital rooftop, threatening to jump, and specifically wants to see you." My mind went completely blank as I grabbed my bag and rushed to the hospital. The taxi sped along the road; the scenery outside blurred past like my shattered hopes. When I arrived at the hospital, the inpatient building's rooftop was already packed with people. The police had set up a cordon, and a crowd of onlookers gathered below, their murmurs buzzing like a swarm. Vivian White stood by the railing, wearing a white dress that billowed sharply in the wind. Her hair was tousled, her face pale, but her eyes were like poisoned knives, fixed tightly on me. "Fiona, you finally made it!" Kevin Shawn rushed out of the crowd and grabbed my arm tightly, his voice urgent, yet his eyes showed no trace of concern for life—only the frantic panic of someone burdened by trouble. His fingers dug in painfully, nearly crushing my bones.