Chapter 3
Meanwhile, Ethan was in the Seris Club's third-floor luxury private room in the heart of the city.
The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow over the long table, which was covered with bottles of red wine and fresh flowers. In the center stood a huge cream cake, with "Happy Birthday, Emily" written in chocolate.
Ethan sat next to the head of the table. His arm was draped over the back of the chair, idly swirling his wine glass.
His suit was brand new. The cufflinks were custom-made with lettering engraved. His hair was perfectly styled, and his chin was clean-shaven. He looked sharp and like a decent guy.
"Ethan, come on. Let's toast to Emily." A young man with dyed green hair came over with his glass raised.
Emily Lane sat beside him in a black off-the-shoulder dress. Her makeup was flawless, and her smile was graceful.
She clinked her glass gently with Ethan's. "Thanks for coming."
"How could I miss your birthday?" Ethan's voice was low, a bit drunk, and teasing. "Your birthday matters more to me than anything."
Emily's eyelashes trembled, but she didn't respond. She looked down and took a sip of wine.
The music was blaring in the private room, with people singing and playing drinking games.
Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Nine missed calls from Sophia popped up. Ethan frowned and hit decline.
Then he flipped his phone over, screen down, and set it on the table.
Emily shot him a look. "Who was calling?"
"No one special. Some family stuff," Ethan replied.
"Your wife?" Emily asked.
"Yeah, she's bugging me again," Ethan said, taking a big gulp of his drink. "She's always making a big deal out of nothing. Once, she had a stomachache and rushed to the ER, but it was caused by something she ate."
Emily's smile faded a bit. "Isn't she about to give birth?"
"There's still two weeks left. It's not happening tonight," Ethan said, pulling Emily a little closer. "Forget about her. Tonight is your night."
Emily stayed quiet and edged away from him.
Ethan didn't notice. He stood up and raised his glass. "Alright, everyone. Raise your drinks. Here's to Emily. May she be forever young and gorgeous!"
Everyone whooped and joined the toast.
Ethan's phone buzzed again, but he ignored it.
*****
At 1:15 AM, the party was over.
Ethan's face was bright red from all the booze, and his buddies helped him out the club's front door.
The cold night air hit him, and he sobered up a bit.
He fished out his phone, ready to call a cab.
The screen lit up, showing 15 missed calls from Sophia.
There was a text message: [Sophia: Ethan, my water broke. I'm on the highway. Do you realize you dumped me on the side of the road?]
It was sent at 10:41 PM, and now it was 1:17 AM.
Ethan stared at the message, half the booze in his system evaporating.
He swiped to his recent calls. The last one from Sophia was at 11:08 PM. Nothing after that.
Ethan stood there stunned for a moment and hit redial. Her phone was dead. He tried again, but it was still the same.
Something twisted in his gut, and it wasn't the booze.
He started sending message after message to Sophia: [Where are you?]
[Sophia?]
[Don't scare me. Where are you?]
All the messages showed "Sent," but none of them had been read.
Ethan's hands started to shake.
He flagged down a cab and told the driver to take him home. When he got there, the house was completely dark.
The living room lights were off, and the bedroom was dark as well.
On the table sat the dinner Sophia had made. It was already cold. Two dishes and a bowl of soup, with his plate and utensils neatly set across from hers.
Ethan stopped in his tracks.
He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through every social media app he could think of: Twitter, Instagram, anything. But there was no news from Sophia.
Then it hit him: when he was leaving tonight, Sophia had said her stomach was bothering her and asked if he could stay home.
'What did I say?' he thought. "It's just a stomachache. Go to the hospital yourself. It's not a big deal. I've made plans with my friends. I can't bail," he had said.
Then he drove off. Sophia ran after him, calling out his name.
He saw her in the rearview mirror, standing at the garage exit. One of her hand was on her belly, and the other waved at him. He hit the gas.
Once he got on the highway, Sophia called again, saying her stomach was getting more and more painful and that she thought she might be going into labor. She begged him to come back.
He said, "Call 911. I'm on the highway. How am I supposed to get back?"
Sophia said, "I don't have my health insurance card, and I forgot my wallet."
"Come on, can't you handle anything yourself? Why do I always have to fix your problems?" he said and hung up.
After that, Sophia called him several more times, but he was fed up and stopped picking up.
Ethan sat in the empty living room. The silence was so heavy that it made his heart race.
He opened the local news app and searched for "pregnant woman on the highway." Nothing came up.
He called everyone he could think of, but no one had any idea where Sophia was.
At 2 AM, he finally remembered to call the hospitals to try his luck.
He called five hospitals, but none of them had any record of her. The sixth call was to the Antarcton Central Hospital, and a nurse from the ER picked up.
"Hello, did you admit a pregnant woman named Sophia Winston tonight? She's twenty-four, nine months pregnant," asked Ethan.
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then the nurse asked with a strange tone, "Who are you to her?"
"I'm her husband," Ethan said.
There was another pause.
"She's here. Both she and the baby are safe," the nurse replied.
Ethan's legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the couch.
"I'm coming over right now," he said.
"Sir," the nurse's voice suddenly turned cold. "Her family is already here."
"Family? I'm the only one she's got," Ethan blurted out.
"Her brother, Mr. James Winston, is by her side in the room," the nurse replied.
Ethan's mouth was wide open. 'James? Sophia has a brother? She never told me about him,' he thought.
"And one more thing," the nurse said, "her emergency contact isn't you anymore." With that, the nurse hung up.
Ethan sat in the living room, clutching his phone so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.
After what felt like forever, he got up, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out the door.