Chapter 3

When we sat down for the meal, Ryan settled himself beside Emily. "This shrimp is quite good," he remarked, offering her some. "Here, try this."

"Ryan," my mother gently reminded him with a smile, "don't forget the mother-to-be here. She's eating for two, you know."

Ryan glanced at me as if suddenly remembering I existed, his eyes briefly scanning my midsection. "You're looking a bit thin, Sophie," he remarked.

He then served me a piece of fish. "You should eat more," he said.

My belly, of course, was flat after the procedure. Fortunately, my loose clothes hid the change, and he simply assumed I had lost weight.

I kept my head down. A persistent, dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen.

Seeing Ryan serve me food, Emily fell silent for a moment. Then, she slammed her fork down.

"This fish is full of bones," she announced, her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. "I almost choked."

Instantly, all attention swung to her.

"Are you alright?" Ryan handed her a glass of water. "Here, let me get that for you." He began to meticulously pick through the fish on her plate.

The tenderness was a stark contrast to his perfunctory tone with me.

"I've lost my appetite," Emily declared, shoving her plate away and flouncing out onto the balcony.

Ryan frowned and hurried after her without hesitation.

An awkward silence fell over the dining table.

"What on earth was that about?" my father asked, breaking the uneasy silence. "Her mood switched on a dime."

"That girl has had a hard life, losing her parents so young," my mother sighed. "She's been living with Sophie and Ryan since she graduated and has become far too reliant on them."

"She's a bit spoiled," my father added, glancing at me with a look of silent apology. "Ryan seems to handle her well enough. Let him deal with it."

I set my fork down and quietly excused myself, heading for the bathroom.

As I passed the balcony, their hushed voices carried through the glass door.

"Don't be upset. You know you're the only one for me. I served her that food because she's been off her food lately. I was worried it would affect the baby. That's the only reason," Ryan said.

"Do you mean it?" Emily asked, her voice choked with emotion.

"Of course I do," Ryan murmured softly. "Once he's here, we can be together properly. No more secrets."

A fresh wave of nausea and pain washed over me. Leaning against the wall for support, I barely made it into the bathroom.

The face staring back from the mirror was a ghost's—deathly pale, with bloodless lips and hollow eyes.

When I returned to the table, Ryan and Emily were already back, seated on either side of my chair.

Emily's eyes were slightly red-rimmed from her performance, but a smug curl betrayed her satisfaction.

"Sophie," Emily said sweetly, the picture of innocence, "you've spilled your soup on me."

I froze, following her gaze. A small stain marred the sleeve of her blouse. As she shifted, her collar gaped open slightly, revealing a faint, telltale bruise just above her collarbone.

In that moment, something inside me, some last thread of restraint, snapped.

I set my fork down. "Emily," I said, my voice dangerously low and steady. "What exactly is going on between you and Ryan?"

A deafening silence swallowed the room.

"Sophie!" Emily's eyes instantly flooded with tears. "How could you accuse me of something like this?"

"I saw you," I continued, my gaze locked on hers, refusing to back down. "At the dermatology clinic..."

Emily let out a piercing shriek, cutting me off. Her chair suddenly tipped backward, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

"Sophie!" she wailed from the floor. "Why would you push me?"

"I didn't..." I explained.

"Enough!" Ryan roared, shooting up from his chair and looming over me. "Sophia, have you completely lost your mind?"

"She's lying. I didn't lay a finger on her!" I shouted back.

Ryan roughly shoved me aside as he rushed to Emily, gathering her protectively in his arms.

I stumbled backward from the force, lost my balance, and hit the coffee table.

In seven years of marriage, he had never once been physically aggressive. The first time he laid a hand on me was to defend her.

A searing pain shot through my side, and a moment later, I felt a warm, wet trickle down my thigh.

"Oh my God, she's bleeding!" my mother screamed, her voice raw with panic.

"Call an ambulance!"

Amid the chaos, I could hear Emily's theatrical sobs. "It's my fault. She must be so hormonal and sensitive because of the pregnancy..."

As my vision began to tunnel and darkness crept in, the last things I heard were the sound of Emily's manufactured sobs and Ryan's frantic voice.

Ryan was shouting into his phone, his voice cracking with panic. "My wife is six months pregnant; there's a lot of blood. You have to save the baby! Please, save our baby!"

Lying there on the cold floor, watching his desperate panic, a single, bitter laugh escaped my lips.

There was no baby left to save.