Unmasking the Cheating Professor

I pressed my hand against my rounded belly, feeling the faint flutter of the baby inside. On the living room coffee table lay Mark Collins' forgotten mobile phone. Suddenly, the screen lit up, a message notification flashing across it. "Mark, when are you going to come be with me?" The sender was saved as "Mia." My heart plummeted, and my fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. After a few seconds of hesitation, I unlocked the phone. The chat history was unbearable—every word laid bare Mark's betrayal. Those late-night excuses, his constant grip on his phone—it was all lies. "Mark Collins!" I shouted toward the foyer, a sudden, sharp pain coursing through my belly. Mark had just opened the door, and the moment he saw my pale face and trembling body, his expression shifted dramatically. "Lucy, what's wrong?" He rushed over, reaching out to steady me. "Don't touch me!" I pushed his hand away, tears streaking down my face in despair. "How long have you and Mia Lynn been together?" Mark froze, his eyes flickering away, his voice edged with panic. "Lucy, listen to me. It's not what you think." "Not what I think?" I pointed at the mobile phone screen, the pain in my belly intensifying. "Aren't these chat logs clear enough?" The stabbing pain robbed me of my strength, and I slid down the wall to sit on the floor. "I'm bleeding..." I looked down at the blood between my legs, my voice trembling. Mark Collins was utterly panicked, scooping me up and rushing for the door. "Lucy, hold on— we're almost at the hospital!" The ambulance siren blared in my ears as I leaned against Mark's chest, my heart aching more than my body ever could. Outside the operating room, Mark Collins crouched on the floor, clutching his hair, his face etched with regret. A few hours later, a nurse emerged holding a tiny baby. "It's a girl, born three weeks early, but otherwise healthy." I gazed at the wrinkled little face bundled in swaddling clothes; all my emotions broke down into tears. Mark moved cautiously to the hospital bed, his eyes shifting between the baby and me, his voice rough. "Lucy, I'm sorry." I didn't respond, my gaze locked on our daughter. "Mia and I are done. Completely done." Mark Collins took my hand, his voice urgent, "I know I was wrong. Please give me one more chance—for the baby." I pulled my hand back, closed my eyes, fatigue crashing over me. "I'm tired. I just want to rest." In the days that followed, Mark was unusually attentive. He took on all the care for me and the baby—bringing tea, changing diapers—never once complaining. "Lucy, let's pick a name for the baby." He sat beside the bed, his eyes soft and warm. I gazed at our daughter's sleeping face and whispered, "Let's call her Nora." Mark Collins paused for a moment, then nodded, "Alright, let's name her Nora." On the day we were discharged, Mark pushed the baby stroller with Nora and me, constantly reminding me of all the precautions along the way. "I promise from now on to take good care of our family and never do anything to hurt you again." I watched the scenery blur past the window and whispered, "I forgive you for now, but don't ever disappoint me again." Life seemed to get back on track, but deep down, I knew the cracks were there—and things would never be the same.