Chapter2

The hospital corridor chairs were hard and cold.

I sat outside the obstetrics department, clutching my registration form.

9 AM procedure. Ten minutes left.

My phone rang. Damian calling.

"Not coming home for dinner tonight," his voice was flat, like making an announcement. "Can't leave Penny's side."

I was about to speak when a woman's crying came through the phone.

Penny's voice, high and thin.

"Damian, my stomach hurts so much... what if something's wrong with the baby..."

"Don't be scared, don't be scared, I'll take you to the hospital right now!" Damian's voice instantly changed, full of panic.

Then the call ended.

I looked at the phone screen and stuffed it back in my bag.

Perfect. Saves me from making excuses about why I'm not home.

My fingers unconsciously touched my abdomen. Through my clothes, it was still flat. Two months—the little life hadn't formed yet.

Five years. Damian and I had been married five years, always wanting a child.

First year he said work was too busy, wait a bit. Second year he started smoking and drinking, said he had to entertain clients. Third year I secretly got tested—the doctor said nothing was wrong with me. Fourth year I urged him to get checked, he always said no time.

Last year during New Year's, my mother-in-law said in front of a table full of people: "Married four years and still no movement in the belly—should you go to the hospital?"

Damian slammed down his chopsticks. "Check what? It's not like we can't have kids. What's the rush?"

That night back in our room, I cried.

He held me and said don't listen to Mom's nonsense, we're still young, take our time.

I believed him.

This year I started seriously trying to conceive.

Tracking ovulation, measuring basal temperature, taking folic acid.

Every month hoping for those few days, every month disappointed.

Last month finally got what I'd hoped for. Two red lines.

I held the pregnancy test in the bathroom and cried for half the day.

When I came out wanting to tell him, he was already on the phone.

Penny calling, saying her depression was acting up, asking him to come keep her company.

He hung up and headed for the door. I said I have something to tell you.

He said we'll talk when I get back.

That day he didn't come home until 2 AM. I was already asleep.

I tucked the pregnancy test in my bag, waiting for the right moment to tell him.

What I ended up waiting for was Penny's ultrasound.

The donation agreement. His signature.

The corridor suddenly erupted in chaos. A group of people rushed in, someone shouting "make way, make way."

I looked up.

Damian came running in carrying Penny.

Penny curled in his arms, face buried in his chest, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

Damian ran and shouted: "Doctor! Where's the doctor? She's in pain! She's pregnant!"

The crowd parted to both sides. I moved aside too.

In the chaos, he bumped into me. His elbow hit right on my abdomen.

I doubled over in pain, gripping the chair beside me to stay upright.

A tightening sensation in my abdomen, that familiar dragging feeling surging up.

I looked down. My legs were trembling.

Damian had already rushed into the emergency room.

I slowly straightened, hand still covering my abdomen. Pain, but bearable.

Anyway, I came here today to end it. What did a little pain matter?

I walked toward obstetrics. Took two steps, legs went weak, had to lean against the wall and stop.

Waited until I recovered, then kept walking.

After registering, I sat outside obstetrics waiting. Felt something inside my abdomen pulling downward.

Footsteps sounded from down the corridor.

I looked up.

Damian stood five meters away, staring at me.

His face was covered in sweat, fire burning in his eyes.

He strode over. Before I could speak, a slap came across my face.

My face burned with pain. I tilted sideways, hand bracing the chair to keep from falling.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His voice was loud enough for the entire corridor to hear. "Penny nearly had a miscarriage—do you know that? You did this on purpose, didn't you? Did you follow us in here?"

I covered my face, slowly straightening. People around us all looked over.

"I'm asking you a question!" He stepped forward, finger pointing at me. "She's in pain and you're just waiting at the door to watch the show? What's your agenda?"

I looked at him.

This man had slept beside me last night.

This man five minutes ago was still on the phone saying he wouldn't come home for dinner.

"Speak!"

"I'm here to see the doctor," I said.

He froze. "See the doctor? What's wrong with you?"

I didn't answer.

The exam room door opened. A nurse called my name. "Vivian Sinclair, your turn."

I stood up and walked past him.

"Stop right there!" He grabbed my wrist. "Make yourself clear—"

"Sir," the nurse stopped him. "This is obstetrics. Family members please wait outside."

He released his grip.

I walked into the exam room. The door closed behind me.

When I lay on the operating table, the lights were very bright—harsh white.

The nurse inserted a needle in my arm. Cold liquid flowed in.

I closed my eyes.

My mind suddenly flashed to that morning. Two red lines on the pregnancy test.

I'd held it in the bathroom and cried for half the day. I'd imagined his expression when I told him—he'd definitely smile, hug me, say that's wonderful.

Five years.

We'd waited five years for this child.

He didn't even know. He never knew.

He only knew Penny's depression was acting up and she needed company, Penny wanted porridge and he had to deliver it, Penny's stomach hurt and he had to carry her rushing into the hospital.

What about me?

The little thing inside my belly, that little thing I'd waited five years for—was leaving me bit by bit.

Just as well.

If he didn't want it, I wouldn't either.