The Wrong Season for Love

My husband was the leader of the rescue team. As I was trapped in a cave and surrounded by a pack of wolves, I desperately called him over and over. Yet, he hung up on me every single time.

When the fire nearly burnt out and the wolves got closer, he finally called me and angrily accused me, "Can you stop wasting public resources? I'm the rescue team leader first, and then your husband."

In the background, I heard a soft, feminine voice saying, "Howard, my arm has a cut. Can you take me to the hospital?"

I was familiar with that voice. It was my husband's first love. Ever since her husband died, she clung to him. And my husband... He didn't just tolerate it; rather, he seemed to enjoy it.

A wave of despair washed over me as I ended the call. My hands were trembling, and I tried to call the police, but before I could, the leader of the wolves pounced on me.

I fell hard to the ground, and the rest of the pack, sensing the signal, ran toward me at an extraordinary speed.

I didn't stand a chance to fight back, and in mere moments, I was ripped into pieces.

Before my consciousness slipped away, I struggled to glance down at my lower abdomen one last time, and my lips quivered. "My baby, I'm sorry I failed you…"