Chapter 2

As soon as I stepped inside, I noticed a light gardenia fragrance in the air.

I wasn't familiar with that scent.

In the living room, Laura was sitting on the couch, holding my cup with a bright smile as she looked over at me.

She was even more beautiful than in the photos. Her face was delicate, her eyes were attractive, and she wore a cream-colored dress that seemed carefully chosen, as if the light itself was drawn to her.

Phillip stood beside her, his suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, head bowed as he poured her a glass of water.

When he saw me, he froze mid-action for a moment.

Laura spoke up first. "You're Bella, right? Phillip always mentions you."

I looked at her, staying silent.

She sized me up from head to toe, giving me a knowing smile. "You look even more like yourself in person than in the photos."

Suddenly, the room fell silent.

Issac was standing behind me, barely even breathing.

Phillip frowned. "Laura."

"Did I say something wrong?" Laura blinked innocently. "This dress, this hairstyle, even the earrings, they're like the ones I used to wear. Phillip, you really have a type, huh?"

She said it breezily, as if it were just a joke.

But every single word landed exactly where I was most vulnerable, cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.

I lowered my eyes to the long dress I had on.

Phillip had it sent to me last week, telling me it was perfect for me and that I should wear it to our anniversary dinner.

But I realized it was never really meant for me. It was always meant for Laura.

Phillip finally looked up at me. His voice was calm and almost indifferent. "Did you get the master bedroom ready?"

I stood in the entryway, still clutching a bag from the hospital. Inside were some unfinished blood-stopping pills and a few test reports.

All of a sudden, it just felt ridiculous.

Three hours after my miscarriage, just off the operating table, the first thing my husband said to me wasn't "How are you?" or "Are you in pain?"

It was, "Did you get the master bedroom ready?"

I looked up at him, my voice barely audible. "Phillip, do you even know why I went to the hospital today?"

He furrowed his brow, as if it finally dawned on him that something was wrong. "You weren't feeling well?"

I said, forcing a smile, "That's right. I felt awful."

Laura lounged on the couch, tapping her fingers lightly against her glass like she was there for the entertainment.

Phillip took a step forward, looking like he wanted to say something.

But right then, his phone rang.

He glanced down. It was an international video call.

He was always busy, so busy that even catching his breath felt like a luxury.

I used to be understanding. But now, it felt ridiculous.

Phillip looked up at me, his voice low, almost warning. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you later. Laura's been on a plane for over ten hours, and she's not feeling well. Don't make a scene right now."

Make a scene. So, in his eyes, losing a child was me making a scene.

I nodded, without another word, and headed upstairs with the bag.

As I reached the stairs, Laura's voice floated over, carrying a hint of a smile. "Phillip, is the nightlight still in the master bedroom? I used to be scared of the dark."

I froze in my tracks.

Phillip installed that nightlight for me last winter when I had a high fever, and he even came home late to do it.

I was so foolishly happy about it for days.

He didn't do it because I was the one afraid of the dark. It was Laura all along.

I didn't look back and went upstairs.

The moment the door closed behind me, I couldn't hold it together anymore. I slid down against the door, sinking to the floor.

The pain in my abdomen finally caught up with me, dull and grinding, like someone was slowly stirring a blunt knife inside me.

I opened the hospital bag, took out the ultrasound report, and stared at that little black-and-white speck I hadn't even gotten a good look at. I stared at it for a long time.

Then, bit by bit, I tore it up.

The sound of the paper tearing was so quiet.

But I knew some things were really over now. Like that last bit of wishful thinking I had about Phillip, the kind I should've let go of a long time ago.

That night, Phillip didn't come into the room until very late.

I'd already showered and was propped up against the headboard. My face was so pale it looked bloodless.

When he saw me, he stopped in his tracks.

Maybe he finally noticed something was off.

He asked, "Issac told me you had surgery. What did the doctor say?"

I stared at him. "So now you remember to ask?"

He frowned. "Bella, I really was busy today. Laura just got back from abroad, and she's really upset. I can't leave her alone."

I asked, "So I'm the one you can ignore, is that it?"

He replied, "That's not what I meant."

I pressed, "So what are you really trying to say?"

Phillip paused, his voice a little softer. "Your health is more important. I'll get the private doctor to check on you tomorrow."

I laughed, but it was anything but happy.

I said, "Phillip, I was pregnant."

He stiffened, completely caught off guard.

I caught that shock in his eyes. The irony was just too much.

I said calmly, "But it's gone now. When you told me to make room in the master bedroom for Laura, I'd just gotten out of surgery."