Pregnant and Bleeding, My Husband Pickle His Ex Chapter 04
The first week home, I barely left the couch.
Betty came by every day. Brought casseroles. Checked my incision. Made sure I was taking my pills.
“You need to eat,” she’d say, pushing a plate toward me.
I’d eat. A few bites. Enough to make her stop worrying.
The baby came home on day twelve. My parents drove up from Denver to help. My mom held him and cried. My dad paced the living room, looking uncomfortable the way he always did around infants.
“He looks like you,” my mom said.
He didn’t. He looked like Colton. Same nose. Same chin.
But I didn’t say that.
I named him Leo. After my grandfather. Not after anyone in Colton’s family.
Colton hadn’t asked about the name. Hadn’t asked to help choose. Hadn’t asked about anything.
He’d texted twice. Both times just: *How are you?*
I didn’t respond.
Betty came by on day fifteen with groceries and news.
“Town’s split,” she said, unpacking milk and bread. “Most people are on your side. But the Whitmores are circling the wagons.”
“The Whitmores?”
“Colton’s family. They’re saying it was a medical decision. That you’re being emotional. That people don’t understand the situation.”
looked at Leo sleeping in his bassinet. “What situation?”
“That’s what I said.” Betty slammed the fridge door. “There’s a town council meeting coming up. End of the month. They’re doing some ‘Healthcare Heroes‘ recognition thing.”
The invitation. Still sitting on my counter.
“Colton’s getting an award,” I said.
“Yep.” Betty sat down across from me. “For his service during the storm.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“You should go,” Betty said.
“To watch him get an award?”
“To tell the truth.” She leaned forward. “Honey, you know what happened. I know what happened. But half this town still thinks Colton’s a hero. They don’t know he was at the pharmacy while you were bleeding out.
They don’t know he hung up on me.”
“They don’t need to know.”
“Yes, they do.” Betty’s voice was firm. “Because if they don’t, he’ll keep being the perfect Dr. Whitmore. And the next woman who trusts him might not be as lucky as you.”
I looked at her. “You think I was lucky?”
“You’re alive.” She reached across and squeezed my hand. “That’s lucky.”
The second week was harder.
Leo cried a lot. I was tired all the time. My parents had gone back to Denver. The house felt too big and too small at the same time.
Quinn stopped by once. Brought doughnuts again.
“I wasn’t sure what else to bring,” he said, standing awkwardly in my doorway. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“That’s normal. Post–surgical recovery plus a newborn is…” He trailed off. “Hard.”
“Yeah.”
We stood there. He shifted his weight.
“If you need anything,” he said. “Medical advice or… or anything. You can call.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and left. I watched him walk to his car. He moved like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands.
I ate the doughnuts for dinner.
By the third week, I was going stir–crazy.
I took Leo to the supermarket. Just to get out. Just to see other humans.
Sarah Mitchell was at the register. She saw me coming and her face did something complicated.
“Hi, Maren,” she said quietly.
“Hi.”
She rang up my groceries. Bread. Eggs. Formula. The basics.
“How’s the baby?”
“Good. Healthy.”
“That’s good.” She hesitated. “I heard about the town council thing. The award.”
Everyone had heard about the award.
“Are you going?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
They make hard choices.*
Then another.
*Maren’s just bitter. She’s always been jealous of Sienna.*
“There’s more,” Betty said. “But there’s also this.”
She showed me her phone. A new post. From Mrs. Henderson.
*I was there. In that waiting room. I heard Dr. Whitmore hang up on Nurse Betty. I watched him choose. And it wasn’t about medicine. It was about
who he wanted to save.*
Four hundred comments on that one. Most agreeing.
“The town’s watching,” Betty said. “They’re waiting to see what you do.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do.” She sat next to me. “You know exactly what to do. You’re just scared.”
She was right.
Colton came on day thirty–two.
I heard his car first. The sound of tires on gravel. Then his footsteps on the porch.
The knock was soft. Almost polite.
I opened the door.
He was dressed like he was going to church. Nice shirt.
Pressed pants. His hair was perfect.
“Maren,” he said. “Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Please. I know you’re angry, but-”
“I’m not angry.”
He blinked. “You’re not?”
“No.” And it was true. I wasn’t angry. I was empty. “I’m just done.”
“Done?”
“With this. With you. With pretending.”
His jaw tightened. “You need to think about Leo. About what’s best for him.”
“I am thinking about Leo,” I said. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“He needs his father.”
“He needs a father who shows up.” I kept my voice
level. “You haven’t even asked to see him.”
“I’ve been busy-”
“You’re always busy.”
He ran a hand through his hair. That gesture he did when he was frustrated.
“Look,” he said. “The town council thing. Next week. I know you got an invitation.”
There it was.
“I did.”
“I need you to understand something.” His voice dropped. Got that edge to it. “If you go to that meeting
and say things that aren’t true. If you try to make me look bad. You’ll regret it.”
I stared at him.
This man. My husband. Threatening me.
“I’m not going to make you look bad,” I said. “You did that yourself.”
His face flushed. “Maren-”
“You made a choice. In front of twenty people. You chose Sienna over me. That’s not a lie. That’s what happened.”
“It was a medical judgment-”
“Then you can explain that at the meeting,” I stepped back. “Now I’m tired. I need you to leave.”
“If you do this,” he said. “If you go to that meeting. You’ll ruin everything I’ve built.
“Good.”
His eyes went wide.
“I mean it,” he said. “You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But at least I’m still here to regret things.”
I closed the door.
Stood there with my back against it. Heart pounding.
Hands shaking.
Then I pulled out my phone and called Betty.
“I’ll go,” I said when she answered. “To the town council meeting. I’ll go.”
“You sure?”
I looked at the invitation on my counter. At Colton’s perfect smile.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”
That night, after Leo was asleep, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
Practiced what I’d say.
“My name is Maren Castellano.”
My voice cracked. I started again.
“My name is Maren Castellano. And I want to tell you what really happened.”