The Professors Regret Begging for Forgiveness After I Lost His Baby

The ninth button. I was sewing the ninth button back onto my husband's shirt when he fished a scrap of lace from the laundry pile and dangled it between two fingers.

Did this shrink? Thomas squinted at the fabric, turning it over.

The needle froze mid-stitch.

That pair was six months old. It hadn't changed.

When I said nothing, he scratched his head and shrugged. "Must have remembered wrong. Women's sizes are all over the place anyway."

Outside, the drying rack swayed in the breeze. Every pair of panties hanging there was identicalconservative cotton.

That scrap of lace wasn't mine.

My phone buzzed against the table. Quinn Barnes. My former senior from grad school, inviting me to join his overseas research institute.

For the 998th time.

*Ignore.*

"Professor Gilbert! Come take a picture!"

Hazel Fox hooked her arm through Thomas's and claimed the seat of honor beside him. She pressed her chest firmly against his arm, radiating a possessiveness that made my stomach turn.

My mother-in-law shoved her phone into my hands. "You. Take the picture. Then go cook."

Hazel sat dead center, flanked by Thomas and his mother. They looked like the perfect family.

"Isn't this inappropriate?" I turned to Thomas, silently pleading for him to remember his role. To set a boundary.

His brow furrowed. "Just take it, Elise. Hazel is hungry."

So I raised the phone. Maintained the facade of the virtuous wife. My finger trembled on the shutter.

The image froze on the screen: Hazel's head tilted, resting intimately on Thomas's shoulder.

As I handed the phone back, I saw it.

His palm. Pressed possessively against the small of her back.

I had always believed that as a professor at A University, Thomas Gilbert would have boundaries. Integrity.

The man before me felt like a stranger.

Earlier, a student had approached me, eager to discuss new material science findings. Hazel had cut in with a sneer. "Are you stupid? The Professor's wife is just a housewife. What would she know about that?"

Three years ago, I was a specially appointed professor at that same university. Many of the students in this room had once attended my lectures.

Not a single one spoke up for me.

Thomas had merely smiled, tacitly allowing the ridicule.

Nausea rose in my throat. I turned toward my room, but my mother-in-law blocked my path and shoved me toward the kitchen.

"Don't think you can slack off. You've been married for years and still haven't managed to lay an egg. You haven't earned the right to be lazy."

She watched me like a prison warden while I chopped vegetables.

Thomas entered a moment later. For once, he handed me a pair of gloves.

"Hazel has a delicate stomach." His voice was void of warmth. "If the food isn't clean, she gets diarrhea."

He took the fruit platter I had just cut and carried it out to the living room.

"Professor is so amazing!" the students chorused. "He even helps his wife with the housework!"

My mother-in-law beamed. "My son is young and outstanding. Any woman who marries him should thank her lucky stars! If he hadn't settled down so early, he could have done much better."

"If I had met Teacher ten years ago, I definitely would have pursued him," Hazel sighed. "With such a good husband, I'd give him three children!"

I stood in the doorway, balancing a steaming dish in one hand and a stack of bowls in the other.

Thomas and Hazel were gazing at each other. The air between them was thick. Electric.

The ceramic burned my fingers, but a chill spread through my chest, freezing my heart inch by inch.

How many years had it been since he looked at me with that kind of tenderness?

I set the dish on the table with a clatter. "Eat."

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind me, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and fast.

Three years ago, I was pregnant. I worked myself to the bone and lost the baby to exhaustion.

Back then, Thomas had held me, whispering, "The child isn't important. You are the most important thing to me."

Because of that sentence*isn't important*I had endured three years of ovulation shots and swallowed countless hormone pills. My legs had swollen until I could barely walk.

Yesterday, two pink lines had finally appeared on the test.

Today, I discovered my husband was cheating.

A knock disrupted my grief. Thomas squeezed into the room. Seeing my red, swollen eyes, he let out a long, exaggerated sigh and lifted the corner of his shirt to wipe my tears.

Just like always, when I was wronged, he hugged me from behind. His buzz cut grazed my neck, stubble scratching my sensitive skin.

"Mom's from the countryside, Elise. She doesn't know any better. Why argue with her?"

His voice dropped, authoritative. "My students are outside. Clean yourself up and come out. Don't make a joke of yourself."

His large hand drifted down to stroke my lower abdomen. "The baby isn't a priority."

The realization that those same hands had just been touching another woman made my skin crawl. I wrenched myself free.

"Not a priority? Or is it just that *I'm* not necessary anymore?"

He froze.

Then he laughed. A cold, dismissive sound.

"Honey, do you have too much time on your hands?" He shook his head. "Stop imagining things. You sit at home in luxuryyou have no idea how hard I work to make money. Where would I find the energy to cheat?"

Rage surged through my chest, hot and suffocating.

From dawn until dusk, I managed this home. My mother had passed away, and my father had abandoned me for a new family. I had treated Thomas and his mother like my own flesh and blood. Every cent I earned, I poured into this house.

And in his mouth, my sacrifice became "living in luxury."

I peered through his glasses, searching his eyes for a flicker of guilt.

There was none.

*Thomas Gilbert,* I thought. *I never realized you were such a talented actor.*

"You and Hazel"

"Professor!" Hazel's voice rang out from the bathroom. "I got my collar wet! Do you have a hair dryer?"

Thomas turned on his heel instantly, his steps carrying an urgency he didn't even try to hide.

"I'll find it for you," he called out. "Dry off quicklywe can't have you catching a cold."

Suspicion gnawed at me. I followed them down the hall, my footsteps silent on the hardwood.

Outside the bathroom door, I heard words that made my blood run cold.

"Mr. Gilbert! How can I face anyone now? You tore ityou owe me!"

"If it's ruined, I'll give you one of Elise's."

"What if she finds out?"

"She has no family, no backing in this city. Even if she finds out, she wouldn't dare make a scene."

The noises from the bathroom mingled with the drone of the hair dryera cacophony that made my ears ring.

I didn't dare imagine what they were doing behind that frosted glass.

Even when we were most in love, he had never spoken to me with such raw, reckless desire.

When did he become this person?

In the past, holding hands made Thomas blush to the tips of his ears. Now he was brazenly cheating under our own roof without batting an eye.

He had once knelt by my mother's deathbed, swearing to protect and cherish me.

Now, convinced I had no one to rely on, he stabbed me in the back.

He ripped open old scars and plunged a fresh blade into the wound.

In that moment, the last thread of hope snapped.

There was no going back for us.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers trembled as I opened the 999th email from Quinn Barnes.

**[Quinn, I'm in.]**

Quinn Barnes. My mentor from grad school. He had admired me back then, begging me to go abroad with him to develop new materials.

But I had been a love-struck fool. I threw myself at Thomas, believing that a home was the only path to happiness.

I rejected Quinn.

He had been furious. He told me it was a waste for someone with my IQ to be a slave to love.

I had laughed at him. Told him he didn't understand romance.

Eight years. Quinn had built a research empire overseas and a famous cosmetics company domestically.

And I? The dazzling genius of A University had become a nameless housewife, mocked by her husband's students.

Quinn's reply came instantly.

**[Why the sudden change of heart?]**

**[You were right. Love is fragile. I regret everything.]**

**[Elise, congratulations on finally waking up. My company welcomes you anytime. But I hope you make a clean break with the past.]**

I inhaled sharply and shoved the bathroom door open.

Panic flashed across Thomas's face, but he smoothed it over with a practiced lie. "Hazel doesn't know how to use our hair dryer. I'm teaching her."

My gaze landed on Hazel. Her bra strap had slipped down her armidentical to the lace underwear Thomas had held earlier.

His collar gaped open. Another button was missing from his white shirt.

The tenth ruined shirt.

It happened sooner than I expected.

"Does teaching her to use a hair dryer require unhooking her bra?" Ice dripped from every word.

Caught, Thomas grabbed my arm and yanked me fully into the bathroom, kicking the door shut. His voice dropped to a menacing hiss.

"Keep your voice down. Hazel is a student. You ruin her reputation, and we have a problem."

I stared at him, incredulous.

I thought being caught would bring shame. Guilt. Instead, his first instinct was to protect his mistress.

"She did the deed, but she's afraid of the reputation?" I scoffed.

I tried to push past him. He blocked my exit.

"Mrs. Gilbert... don't blame the Professor," Hazel whimpered, shrinking back. "He's a man. You don't let him touch youhe's been suffering... I just felt sorry for him."

Red haze clouded my vision. I stepped forward and slapped her across the face.

*Smack!*

"What are you doing?!"

Thomas shoved me. Hard.

My lower back slammed into the door handle. Pain exploded in my spine and shot through my lower abdomen like a lightning bolt.

I doubled over, gasping, but Thomas didn't even look at me. His hands were cupping Hazel's face, examining her cheek.

"Are you okay? I'll take you to the hospital."

"It's my fault," Hazel sobbed. "I made Mrs. Gilbert misunderstand. She has every right to hit me..."

The commotion drew the others. The door pushed open, revealing the crowd of students and my mother-in-law.

"Elise!" my mother-in-law screeched. "Have you lost your mind? Hazel is a good girlshe brought gifts, she helped out!"

"Your 'good girl' is a mistress seducing a married man," I spat, clutching my stomach.

My mother-in-law took one look at the scenethe disheveled clothes, the tensionand knew exactly what had happened.

Yet she sneered.

"If you can't bear children or keep a man satisfied, don't blame others for stepping up."

Thomas turned to the students, his face a mask of tragic patience. "My wife has severe depression. Her delusions have been getting worse lately. She's hallucinating affairs."

Shock rooted me to the spot.

The man I had loved for twelve years was standing there, telling the world I was insane.

"Even so, violence isn't the answer..." a student muttered.

"Hazel is so pitiful. Just because she's pretty, she gets targeted."

"Mrs. Gilbert, you should apologize."

The accusations rained down. I felt dizzy.

Thomas's gaze was cold, fearless. He knew that if I made a scene, no one would believe the "crazy" housewife over the esteemed Professor.

He let out a long, weary sigh. "Apologize to Hazel, Elise. Do that, and we'll forget this ever happened."

He and his mother each grabbed a shoulder, forcing me down.

They wanted me to kneel.

I looked at Thomas's hands on me.

Years ago, those hands had taken a slap from my father to protect me. He had promised to hold up the sky for me.

Now those same hands were forcing me to my knees to apologize to his mistress, grinding my dignity into the dust.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" I roared, wrenching myself free. "You disgust me!"

"You want me to apologize to a whore? Keep dreaming!"

Silence.

The students, sensing the toxicity, shuffled toward the door. Once the last guest left and the front door clicked shut, Thomas's facade dropped. His face darkened with rage.

"Elise! Did you have to humiliate us?"

Hazel stepped between us, playing the peacemaker, though her eyes danced with triumph.

"Mrs. Gilbert, I don't want anything," she said softly. "I just want to stay by the Professor's side. Sharing his burdens is enough for me. Please don't fight because of me. If it makes the Professor happy... I'll leave."

Rage detonated in my chest. I snatched the soup bowl from the table and hurled it to the floor beside her.

Porcelain exploded, sending shards flying. Hot broth splashed onto her calves.

"Elise James!" Thomas Gilbert roared, surging to his feet. Before I could react, his hand connected with my face.

The force of the slap knocked me to the ground. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, and the metallic tang of blood bloomed in my mouth.

"You vicious woman! You dare attack a student? Do you call yourself a professor's wife with behavior like that?"

It was the first time I had seen Thomas lose control so completely. Even on our wedding day, he had remained composed, not shedding a single tear of joy.

"It's my fault." Hazel Fox's voice was small and trembling. "No matter how Mrs. Gilbert treats me, I should endure it. Teacher, please don't fight for my sake."

Her words seemed to snap Thomas out of his trance, but only to redirect his fury.

"No apology, is that it?"

He grabbed the clay pot from the table and upended it over me.

The broth looked lukewarm, but the temperature was searing. The moment the liquid coated the back of my hand, my skin screamed in protest, turning an angry red.

Thomas didn't even look at me. He scooped Hazel up in his arms, panic etched onto his features as he rushed toward the exit.

Before leaving, he threw a cold sentence over his shoulder:

"Since Hazel is hurt, you can taste what being scalded feels like, too."

The burn on my hand throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. The Thomas Gilbert who used to cook for me clumsilywho insisted on making me noodles even after burning his own fingerswas dead.

*"Cooking is too dangerous,"* he had once said, his eyes full of tenderness. *"From now on, let me do it."*

Now, he used the soup I had lovingly stewed to mutilate me.

I looked at the mess of food scattered across the floor and felt like a clown in a tragedy of my own making.

I pulled out my phone and texted the doctor:

*[I'm coming in for the abortion today.]*

The doctor replied instantly, urging me to reconsider. But the image of Thomas and Hazel kissing in the emergency room lobby burned in my mind.

I shook my head, my resolve hardening into ice.

Thomas once claimed he despised public displays of affection. At our wedding, he hadn't even kissed the bride. Yet for Hazel, he was willing to shatter every principle he claimed to hold.

My father had been a cheater. I would not let my child have one, too.

Climbing onto the operating table, my limbs felt heavy, as if filled with lead. When I climbed down, my womb was empty.

"Elise? What are you doing coming out of Obstetrics and Gynecology?"

I froze. Thomas was standing there, eyeing the department sign suspiciously.

My stomach churned. I forced a mask of calm onto my face. "Cramps. I was picking up painkillers."

I tried to sidestep him, but he caught my arm, yanking me back. The sudden motion sent a jolt of agony through my abdomen, and I doubled over.

That was when he noticed the blistering skin on the back of my hand. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He reached out to check it, but I violently shook him off.

"Go keep your Hazel company."

Hearing the sarcasm dripping from the words "your Hazel," Thomas's expression frosted over.

He looked down at me, his gaze imperious. "You know nothing. Hazel's family comes from money. If I mentor her well, my career path clears up significantly. I'm doing this for our family, Elise."

He paused, his lip curling. "And youmaking a scene in front of my students. You're lucky Hazel is generous and isn't pressing charges. Come with me. You're going to apologize to her."

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. He was cheating, yet he still managed to package it as a noble sacrifice for his career.

"Then let's divorce. That way, you can't blame me for holding Professor Gilbert back from his promotion."

Thomas stiffened. When the weight of my words settled, he scoffed.

"You want a divorce? Don't joke. Without me, do you really think you'd live this comfortably?"

He pulled out his phone and transferred 0-000 to my account. The note read: *Buy burn ointment.*

"Fix that hand. A scar that size is hideous. You're both women, yet your hands don't have half the elegance of Hazel's."

He reached into his pocket and handed me a smartphone.

"Hazel doesn't use this one anymore. You can have it."

Having dispensed his charity, he turned and jogged back toward Hazel's ward without a backward glance.

Three years ago, after my first miscarriage, Thomas stayed by my bedside for a month. When I cried from the pain, he wept harder than I did.

Three years later, he caused both my miscarriage and my injury, yet he felt nothing. He dismissed me with a hundred dollars and a discarded phone.

He bought Hazel the newest model, while I was only fit for her scraps.

Unfortunately, I have never liked secondhand goodswhether phones or men.

I tossed the device into the nearest trash can. As it fell, the screen lit up, revealing the lock screen wallpaper: Thomas and Hazel, smiling radiantly in front of the Lover's Rock at A University.

A sanctuary we once cherished had become the backdrop for his affair.

I drove straight to the university. Ignoring the stares of students, I found our names carved into the stone monument and began to scratch them out.

I gouged at the rock, one cut after another, desperate to erase my past with Thomas.

When the names were finally illegible, I collapsed to the ground, drained. A young couple walked by, fingers intertwined.

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips.

How did we end up here?

We were once the campus myth, the couple everyone aspired to be. Now, the myth was a joke.

Thomas's old vow echoed in my memory

*'If I, Thomas Gilbert, ever betray Elise James, may heaven strike me down, and may I face ruin and disgrace!'*

Did he really just want to climb the social ladder? Or was I simply too boring?

I shook my head. It didn't matter anymore.

The fault lay with him, not me.

The signs had been there for months; I had just refused to see them. The sudden interest in his appearance. Staying late at school on weekends. The flowers he brought home, which he pruned with obsessive care. The way he changed his profile picture to a cartoon. The secret smiles directed at his phone screen.

I rubbed the raw skin on my hand. The nurse had warned me that delaying treatment would leave a permanent scar.

Good.

This scar would be my reminder: never make the same mistake again. Love is fleeting. A career is the only thing a woman can truly rely on.

On the way home, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

It was a photo. A familiar large hand rested possessively on a woman's belly. A red stringa blessing charmwas wrapped around their joined wrists.

Thomas had gone to a temple to pray for that specific charm after we lost our first baby. He had told me, *'As long as we keep this red string, our baby will find its way back to Mom and Dad.'*

Now, he had given our baby's blessing to another woman.

The audacity was breathtaking.

*[I'm pregnant with Thomas's child. Youth really does make conception easier than it is for an old hag like you.]*

*[You still don't know who I am, do you? You're just like your useless mothersuperfluous. A waste of space.]*

*[So what if you're an A University professor? Thomas will handle everything for me. My dad will ensure he climbs another rung on the ladder.]*

*[Elise James, if I were as much of a failure as you, I'd kill myself.]*

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

Hazel Fox was my half-sister. My father's illegitimate daughter.

The mistress's child had returned to steal my husband.

Tremors racked my body, but then, a laugh tore from my throat. Loud. Manic.

*Perfect.*

Thomas Gilbert, you've touched the one person in this world I despise the most. You and she can go to hell together.

Suppressing the bile rising in my throat, I scrolled through Hazel's social media feed. I archived everything. Every post, every photo, every check-in was evidence of Thomas's infidelity.

The most recent post was a video captioned: *"The happiest day."*

Below it, a comment read: *"Happy wedding."*

Hazel had shamelessly replied: *"Thank you."*

And Thomas had liked the video.

I took screenshots of it all.

When I arrived home, I photographed the pile of luxury gift boxes stacked by the door.

In the living room, my mother-in-law flicked an apple core onto the floor, waiting for me to clean it up.

"Why are you back so late?" she snapped. "Hurry up and make dinner. You upset my son and drove him away, and I haven't even punished you for it yet!"

In the past, I swallowed my pride for Thomas's sake. Now that I was discarding the son, the mother meant nothing to me.

"If you want to eat, cook it yourself."

I walked past her and bolted my bedroom door. Ignoring Mrs. Gilbert's shrieks and curses from the hallway, I focused entirely on compiling the evidence into a PDF.

Knowing the internet's short attention span, I also recorded an explanatory video, narrating the timeline of their affair.

Once the upload was queued, I packed my bags and left that suffocating cage forever.

Thomas didn't come home for three days. He stared at their WeChat conversation, his brow furrowed. The chat window was dead silent.

In the past, Elise would have sent him messages about breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Now, not even a punctuation mark.

Hazel handed him a bento box, feigning guilt. "Teacher, you always apologize to Mrs. Gilbert. Maybe I should apologize for you this time? Seeing you living at the school breaks my heart."

Thomas scoffed. "Absolutely not. I won't be the first to bow my head this time. She owes *you* an apology. When she finally crawls back home, I'm going to teach her a lesson she won't forget."

Suddenly, a student burst into the office, breathless.

"Professor Gilbert! It's bad! Your wife is livestreaming! She's exposing evidence of infidelity and domestic abuse! The whole campus is watching!"