Chapter 2
On Christmas Eve, I got up before the sun and slipped into the beige dress Alex gave me. It was the only gift he brought back for me from his business trip. I put on some light makeup, making myself look fresh and gentle.
Then I dove straight into the kitchen, spending eight hours prepping and cooking, filling the table with all his favorite dishes.
The kitchen's warmth made my cheeks flush, and there was a slight ache in my belly, but I didn't feel tired at all. My heart was bubbling with sweet anticipation.
I brought out each dish, set out two sets of tablewares, poured two glasses of water, and sat quietly at the table, waiting for him.
I waited from two in the afternoon until six in the evening. The sky had turned completely dark, the snow outside was falling harder and harder, and the sound of fireworks kept getting louder.
Through the neighbors' windows, I could see the warm silhouettes of families gathered around their dinner tables. But here, it was just me, sitting in silence, the cold biting right through me.
The food kept getting cold, so I reheated it again and again, four times in total. My fingertips were dotted with tiny red burns from the hot oil, but I didn't even notice.
I sent Alex a message: [Happy Christmas Eve. I made all your favorite dishes. Waiting for you to come home and have dinner with me.]
He didn't reply.
I couldn't help myself. I dialed his number, but all I got was the cold, robotic voice saying, "The number you have dialed is busy." I tried three times, but it was the same every time.
My expectations grew colder, like the snow outside slowly freezing into ice.
I knew where Alex was.
The driver dropped me off at Flora's apartment building. Icy snowflakes stung my face, cold and biting against my skin. I shrank into my coat and looked up at the window on the thirteenth floor.
The window glowed with a soft golden light, and the curtains were only half-closed. I could see Alex sitting on the couch, with Flora nestling in his arms.
He held a strawberry and gently brought it to her lips. There was a smile on his face that I'd never seen before, and his gaze was so gentle that it could melt anyone's heart.
That was the tenderness I'd longed for over eight years, but never once received.
He remembered Flora loved strawberries, remembered to spend Christmas Eve with her, but forgot his own wife who was sitting alone at home with a table full of cold dishes, pregnant with his child, and waiting for him to come home.
On Christmas Eve, when families everywhere were reunited, my husband was with another woman, enjoying their happy moments.
Suddenly, a dull, dragging pain twisted in my belly. I doubled over, clutching my belly as I crouched in the snow. I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears fell, splattering onto the snow and instantly freezing into icy beads.
It turned out that all my love, all my hopes, and even our child didn't matter to Alex at all.
I'd loved Alex for eight years and married him for one year. All the endurance, grievance, and pride that I swallowed were shattered at that moment.
A heart didn't break in an instant. It was crushed by despair formed by multiple disappointments. And this Christmas Eve was the last straw for me.
I was done waiting, done loving, and done hoping. I was finished with Alex.
I was not keeping this baby either.
*****
After leaving Flora's apartment building, I didn't go back to Ford Manor. I told the driver to take me straight to the 24-hour private maternity hospital.
The snow was still falling, and the car windows were fogged up. I stared at the lights outside, watching them blur past as silent tears streamed down my face. My heart twisted with pain and bitterness, but I didn't waver.
This baby was never meant to be.
It wouldn't have a father who loved it, or a warm family. Born into a loveless marriage, it'd only suffer with me, watching its father treat its mother with nothing but cold indifference, always knowing it was never really wanted.
Rather than let it face all that from the very beginning, I'd rather let go now. Let it be born into a family that truly loved it, to parents who genuinely cared for each other and eagerly awaited its arrival.
The hospital was nearly deserted. On Christmas Eve, most people were there for emergencies, and the maternity ward was especially quiet. I registered for emergency care and sat in the hallway, waiting for the doctor.
The hallway lights were cold and stark, casting an unsettling glow that made everything feel even lonelier.
On the chair beside me, a husband watched over his wife with gentle care, whispering soft words to comfort her. The warmth of their scene felt almost unbearable to witness.
And me? I was all alone, carrying a child, about to get rid of it.