After Three Miscarriages, I Returned to My Real World

During my third miscarriage, Caleb’s childhood sweetheart called, threatening to jump off a building.
Once again, Caleb abandoned me in the operating room just for her.
He said, "Serena’s life is in danger! I have to go save her!"
That night, she posted a sweet photo of the two of them on Instagram.
"He saved my life three times. I will spend forever loving him."
Lying cold on the hospital bed, I woke up the System after years of silence.
"I’m exhausted. Take me home."
"I'm sorry, Chloe. I have to go."
"Serena’s life is truly on the line this time. Only I can talk her down!"
"Be sensible. Stop throwing a tantrum and just wait for me here, okay?"
Just like the last two times, Caleb threw those careless words at me and walked straight out of the room.
I didn't even have the strength left to beg him to stay. I just watched him rush out of the hospital.
In a flash, all that remained was his towering silhouette disappearing down the hall.
Everyone in the ward looked at me—mockery, sneers, cold stares, pity.
I lay quietly on the bed alone, like an abandoned stray dog.
I didn't break down. I didn't scream. I wasn't even angry. I just stared blankly at the empty doorway.
This was the third time he walked out on me during my miscarriage.
And it was the third time his so-called innocent childhood friend chose to attempt suicide the exact moment I was losing our baby.
Every single time, right before I was wheeled into surgery, she would send Caleb a video of herself standing on a rooftop ledge.
And every single time, Caleb dropped everything to run to her side.
His excuse was always the same: a human life was at stake, anyone would do the same.
Yet Caleb seemed to forget that I was also on the brink of death, about to undergo emergency surgery.
Maybe he knew. He just didn't care.
The first time it happened, I cursed at his retreating back, and he snapped:
"Chloe! Can’t you be more mature? Someone is dying!"
"Stop being so selfish! You're only making me despise you!"
The second time, I gripped his sleeve from the hospital bed, begging through my tears, telling him I needed him, pleading with him to stay.
He coldly tore his arm away from my grasp, caring neither about me nor the baby slipping from my body.
This was our third baby.
I had been so careful with everything. I promised myself I wouldn't lose this child.
Yet on my way to a routine ultrasound, a speeding car crashed straight into my taxi.
As the paramedics wheeled me into the emergency room, I grabbed the doctor’s coat with the last ounce of my strength:
"Please... my baby... save my baby..."
I could feel the warm blood rushing down my legs. I could feel the life draining out of me.
Caleb arrived shortly after. He sat by my bed, holding my hand tight.
"You'll be okay, Chloe. Everything’s going to be fine."
I looked into his eyes, trying not to be afraid, praying nothing else would go wrong.
I didn't know whether to blame my bad luck or my terrifying intuition.
Right before the surgery doors opened, Serena sent him another video. Her voice trembled through the speaker:
"Caleb... I can't hold on anymore..."
On one side was me, shattered and soaked in blood; on the other was Serena, completely unharmed, sobbing like a fragile damsel in distress.
Without a second thought, Caleb let go of my hand. In the darkest hour of my life, he chose Serena once again.
The surgery ended quickly. When the nurses wheeled me back to the recovery room, the doctor delivered the news: the baby was gone. After three miscarriages and the trauma of the car accident, I could never conceive again.
The doctor walked out, leaving me alone in the silent, empty room.
I forced myself to reach for my phone, desperate to call Caleb.
I wanted to beg him one last time to come back, to tell him how broken I was.
The moment I unlocked my phone, an Instagram notification popped up. It was Serena's new post.
In the picture, she leaned intimately against Caleb, a smudge of white cake frosting playfully dabbed on her nose.
On the table sat a half-eaten cake and several home-cooked dishes that I knew, at a glance, Caleb had made from scratch.
The adoration in Caleb's eyes overflowed through the screen, unmistakable even in the soft candlelight.
Her caption read:
"He saved my life three times. I will spend forever loving him."
I slowly lowered my phone.
I knew even if I called, he wouldn't pick up.
Surrounded by the cold, dark silence of the room, staring at my pale reflection on the screen, a quiet laugh escaped my lips.
"System, wrap it up. Send me home."

Ten years ago, in my original world, I got into a horrific car crash while on a road trip right after college.
I was placed in the ICU, comatose, diagnosed as a permanent vegetable.
My fierce will to survive triggered the System. In that critical moment, I made a deal: if I completed the System's mission, I could reclaim my real life.
The mission was simple: raise the male lead of this world, Caleb Vance, to one hundred percent happiness.
Back then, he was just a penniless, broken young man.
His parents were gravely ill, and he couldn't find a job after college.
When he stood alone on a pedestrian bridge, ready to jump, I found him.
I sacrificed years of my own lifespan to buy divine medicine from the System store to cure his parents. I traded every hard-earned reward point to open doors for his career.
Eventually, he rose to become the most powerful billionaire in New York. The moment he reached the top, his happiness score hit one hundred percent.
By then, I had completely fallen for his gentleness. I gave up going home and chose to stay in this world for him.
Our love had been so simple, so genuine.
Caleb’s favorite book was The Little Prince.
Even from this hospital bed, I knew that copy we bought together was sitting on our study bookshelf, with a faded movie ticket from our very first date tucked between the yellowing pages.
I could almost see the young man who used to love me unconditionally.
I weakly reached out my trembling hand into the dark, trying to touch that memory, but my fingers only grazed the cold metal rail of the hospital bed.
Tears broke free, dripping silently onto the sheets. The sharp stench of disinfectant burned my nose.
I used to crave his scent—that calming sandalwood cologne he always wore, the scent that made me feel safe in his arms.
Now, the smell of sterile bleach mockingly reminded me that he was gone.
I had dreamed countless times of building a real family with him here.
I didn't care about going back anymore. I just wanted to grow old with the man I loved.
Only now did I finally wake up: the man I loved, the man who once worshiped me, didn't love me anymore.
Serena Cross. That name was a black cloud hanging over our marriage, pushing us further apart each day.
One day, Caleb brought her home, claiming she was his closest childhood friend.
He even admitted they had once made a silly childhood promise to marry each other.
At first, I brushed it off, thinking he was just happy to reconnect with an old friend. I trusted him, and I knew how much we loved each other.
I believed in him.
Soon enough, their meetups became constant. He started ditching me for her over and over.
I confronted him more than once, telling him how uncomfortable Serena made me feel.
Caleb always dismissed me:
"She's just a childhood friend, Chloe. I see her like a little sister. She has no family left in this city, I'm just looking out for her."
Eventually, her excuses became more ridiculous by the week.
A slight fever, a sudden thunderstorm making her scared, a tiny problem at work.
Every little thing required my husband to drop everything and rush to her side.
Caleb grew colder toward me with every passing day:
"Can you grow up, Chloe? Serena has no one else to depend on. I have to help her."
"Why are you so cold-blooded and bitter?"
What about me? I was the one who had no one else in this entire world.
I tried to understand him. I tried to be patient. But my heart froze over, shattered by endless disappointments.
When he abandoned me for the third time during my miscarriage just to play hero for his childhood sweetheart, I finally snapped.
He had made his choice.
And his choice wasn't me.

I was discharged three days later. Until the moment I walked out, Caleb never showed up.
I took an Uber home and started packing.
I searched the house for things that belonged solely to me, only to realize that everything in this house was tied to him—remnants of our past love.
It made sense. I had come to this world entirely for Caleb. My entire existence had revolved around him.
Staring at the empty suitcases, I let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Just as I finished a call with my divorce lawyer, the front door clicked open.
Caleb walked in, carrying a thermal lunchbox.
Whether out of guilt or compensation, he always brought me home-cooked food whenever he returned from Serena's place.
An awkward smile tugged at his lips. "Chloe, you're home?"
"I actually went to the hospital to pick you up, but the front desk said you were already discharged."
"I made some warm broth for you. You need to regain your strength. Come on, drink some."
I pushed the soup container aside, staring at him blankly without a trace of warmth.
"It's been three days since my surgery. I'm already discharged. Why are you only showing up now? Where were you?"
Panic flickered across his face, quickly masked by defensive irritation.
"Nowhere special. Besides being at the office, I was just looking after Serena. She’s completely alone, and her mental state is terrible."
"I took her to the doctor earlier. She was diagnosed with mild depression."
"She has suicidal tendencies, Chloe. I was just worried about her."
Listening to his pathetic excuses, I couldn't help but chuckle.
If she were genuinely suicidal, a psychiatrist wouldn't diagnose her with mere "mild depression." And judging by the radiant smiles she flaunted on social media every day, she was far from depressed.
Her so-called illness was nothing more than an act to keep Caleb wrapped around her finger.
As for being alone in this city... wasn't I?
The System gave me an orphan identity. When I first told Caleb about my past years ago, he had held me tight and wept for me all night.
Maybe he really loved me back then, hurting when I hurt.
Now, he had tossed everything about me into the trash.
"Right. She’s all alone. What about me?"
"When I lay half-dead in that hospital bed, there wasn't a single soul beside me."
"Seems to me like Serena is your wife, not me."
Caleb’s brow furrowed tightly.
"Chloe, why are you talking like this?"
"You have to believe me. I've always loved you."
I smirked, pulled out my phone, and held the screen up to his face.
"Did you forget? Back when you still loved me, you linked your primary credit card to my Apple Wallet."
"I get instant alerts for every dollar you spend. You said it was to give me peace of mind."
"Turns out, it was meant to kill whatever love I had left."
Last night, a notification pinged on my phone: Caleb had booked a luxury suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
And the guest checking in alongside him was his precious "little sister," Serena Cross.
The calm expression on Caleb's face shattered completely. His eyes darted between guilt, shame, and sudden fury.
What right do you have to be angry, Caleb?
Shouldn't I be the furious one?
I was the fool. I poured my entire soul into this man, spoiled him rotten, to the point where the moment I stopped obeying, I became the villain.
It didn't matter anymore. I was leaving anyway.

Caleb quickly tried to smooth things over by cooking his signature dinner.
He only knew how to make a handful of specific dishes, and whenever he cooked, it was always the exact same menu.
That was why I recognized the meal in Serena’s Instagram post instantly.
Soon, the table was set with the exact same food.
I rarely let Caleb cook in the past. He used to plead with me: "You've done so much for me. Cooking for you is the only way I can repay you!"
Only then would I let him into the kitchen.
To protect his pride and out of my love for him, I always smiled and said it tasted amazing.
The truth was, I hated bland food.
When he placed the last plate down, he looked up at me with an eager smile.
In the past, whenever we argued, he would cook this meal and give me that puppy-dog look, and my resolve would melt. I would forgive him every time.
Not anymore.
I didn't touch a single bite. I pushed my chair back and stood up.
"Caleb, do you really think making one meal erases what you did?"
His expression instantly soured. I knew his real nature all too well.
He had zero patience when it came to apologizing; one failed attempt, and he would throw a fit. I had indulged his childish temper for far too long.
I was done indulging him.
Anger flared in his eyes, hot enough to swallow me whole.
Without another word, he snatched his phone, made a call, and slammed the front door shut behind him.
The next morning, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to find Serena clinging tightly to Caleb’s arm on my porch.
The sight made a surge of bile rise in my throat.
Leaning into Caleb's shoulder, Serena looked at me with fake concern dripping from her voice:
"Chloe, are you feeling okay?"
"You really need to be careful with your health. That was your third miscarriage, after all... you definitely can't afford a fourth."
The gloating in her voice was unmistakable. Caleb just stood there, gazing down at her with the exact same tender look he used to give me.
I remembered when someone left a mildly rude comment under my social media post years ago, Caleb tracked them down until they issued a public apology.
Now, he just watched another woman insult me in my own doorway.
I looked at Caleb—at the face I had loved for ten whole years.
Five years in this marriage, sacrificing my health, pouring everything I had into pulling him out of the gutter.
And in return, I didn't even get a single word of concern about my condition.
The last spark of love in my eyes died out, replaced by chilling disgust.
I barred the door and scoffed:
"How my body is doing is none of your damn business."
"Keep your fake pity to yourself. I don't need a pair of cheating scumbags checking up on me!"
Caleb blew up immediately.
He pulled away from Serena, pointing an accusatory finger in my face:
"What the hell is wrong with you, Chloe? Cheating scumbags?"
"I've told you a hundred times, we're just friends! There’s nothing dirty going on like you imagine!"
"And what do you mean it's none of my business? Aren't we husband and wife?!"
Listening to his righteous indignation, I almost laughed out loud.
"Do you need me to hire a private investigator to pull the hotel security footage from two nights ago?"
"Or do I need to hold up the used condoms left on the bedroom floor before you shut up?"
"'Just friends'? Don't you feel pathetic saying that out loud?"
Exposed, Caleb lunged forward as if he wanted to hit me.
Before he could touch me, Serena pulled him back, stepping in with her signature innocent routine.
"Caleb, please calm down! Chloe just got out of the hospital, her hormones must be all over the place after the surgery."
"Don't lower yourself to her level. Don't let her upset you."
She turned to me, a smug smirk dancing on her lips. "And Chloe, he just missed one hospital visit. Don't you think you're being a little petty over something so minor?"
Caleb spat on the ground in disgust, glaring at me:
"I think that miscarriage ruined your brain. You’ve gone completely insane! Go rot inside by yourself!"
"Now get out of the way and let me in!"
I didn't move an inch. I just looked directly into his eyes:
"Did you know I almost died on that operating table?"
Caleb scowled impatiently.
"There were dozens of doctors and nurses in that room! You were never going to die!"
"Serena only had me! If I didn't go, she would have jumped!"
"Why do you have to be so damn petty? Why do you always cling to these tiny things?"
"If you had even half of Serena's kindness, maybe our marriage wouldn't be this miserable!"
So, he knew. He knew the surgery was life-threatening. He knew I had barely survived.
He knew everything. He just didn't give a damn.
His words stabbed into my chest like serrated blades, ripping my heart to shreds.
There was nothing left between us except divorce.
I had fought for this love for ten years, only to end up here.
I took the signed divorce papers out and shoved them hard against his chest.
Silently, I spoke to the System in my head:
System, I'm tired. Take me away.