Chapter 1

When I was six months pregnant, my husband, James Carter, hit me because I refused to let his down-and-out first love move into our home.

That hit caused our baby’s heart to stop.

I lay alone on the operating table, undergoing an induced abortion and uterine evacuation.

Meanwhile, James was by his first love’s side, comforting her because she was afraid of thunder.

The storm raged on outside.

I stared at the IV drip, watching each drop fall slowly, feeling my baby slip away from me little by little.

There was nothing left in my heart but silence.

It wasn’t until the rain finally stopped and the IV bag ran empty that I suddenly understood.

There was no reason to keep fighting for a marriage where I was the only one who had ever loved.

*****

When James stormed out, slamming the door behind him, I was curled up on the floor of our entryway on Southside Lane, clutching my stomach. The pain was so intense, it made my breathing shaky.

Just ten minutes ago, we'd had the worst fight of our marriage.

The reason was simple. James wanted to bring Emily back to our place and let her crash with us for a while.

Emily was his first love, the one who said she was being abused and was desperate to end her marriage.

James said Emily was hurt and had nowhere else to go, that she needed someone to take care of her, and the only thing he could come up with was to move her into our place.

I didn't hesitate. I turned him down right then and there.

I wasn't being heartless. This was crossing a line no marriage should cross.

My husband wanted to bring his first love, the woman who'd been by his side all through his younger years, into our home to live with her, day in and day out. No wife in her right mind would go along with that.

I tried to reason with him, keeping my voice steady and even letting a hint of pleading slip in.

I told him, "If Emily really has nowhere to stay, I can book her a hotel room for a month or two, or help her find an apartment nearby. That way, you can look after her if you need to.

"She doesn't have to move into our home, and she absolutely shouldn't be coming between us as a couple."

I thought I was being reasonable, trying to meet him halfway.

But after James heard that, his expression grew colder and colder.

He stood by the floor lamp in the living room, the warm light falling on his sharp features, but it didn't bring any warmth to the room.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.

The slap made my head snap to the side, my ears ringing, and my cheek burning like it was on fire.

I instinctively covered my face, staring at him in disbelief.

From the day we started dating all the way through our marriage, James had never once hit me.

He was always so gentle and restrained. Even when things were at their worst between us, he'd just shut down, walk away, or keep his distance. But today, it was like he'd completely lost it.

His hands hung at his sides, fingers curled just enough to make his knuckles go pale, his whole body wound tight.

He was breathing hard, chest heaving. In his eyes, there was anger, impatience, and a fierceness I'd never seen in him before.

"Olivia, you're so selfish," James said.

He fixed his gaze on me, saying each word slowly, as if in his mind, I was already guilty beyond doubt.

I wanted to defend myself, but my throat was so dry and tight that I couldn't force out a single word.

James cut me off before I could try, not giving me a moment to speak.

"I shouldn't have even asked you. I should've just brought her home," he said.

He waved his hand in the air, as if he could toss the whole argument, and me, aside.

His voice was full of regret, but not for hitting me. He was simply frustrated that he'd bothered to consult me at all.

To him, I didn't deserve a say. My refusal was nothing but unreasonable drama, only standing in the way of his so-called right decision.

I kept my hand pressed to my face, tears welling up in my eyes, but I forced myself not to let them fall.

I reached out and grabbed his arm, my fingers brushing against the rolled-up cuff of his shirt. The familiar woody scent lingered there, and it stung, twisting something deep inside me.

I said again, "If Emily really has nowhere to go, I can get her a hotel or help her rent an apartment. She doesn't need to move into our home."

I even softened my voice and promised, "As long as you don't bring her into our home, we can talk about everything else."

But James simply gave me a cold look.

That glare was sharp as a knife, stabbing right through me.

"Olivia, Emily's really hurt. She needs someone by her side," James said.

He paused, like he was deliberately choosing the words that would cut the deepest.

"Can you stop throwing a jealous fit right now? I'm done trying to reason with you," he added.

With that, he yanked his arm away from me.

The force sent me stumbling, and I couldn't keep my footing. I fell straight back.

My lower back crashed into the shoe rack by the door, and my belly slammed hard against it. Pain exploded deep inside me.

The ceramic decor on the shoe rack toppled over, shattering into pieces on the floor.

I slumped down against the shoe rack, both hands wrapped tightly around my stomach, cold sweat soaking through my shirt and sticking to my back.

I looked up at James, using every bit of strength I had left, desperately hoping he'd turn around and notice that something was wrong with me.

But he didn't care.

He walked out the door without so much as a backward glance.

The door slammed shut behind him, the loud bang making my whole body tremble.

Outside, the thunderstorm kept roaring, wind slapping rain against the window, making a constant dull noise.

Thunder crashed again and again, like it was exploding right above my head.

The entryway light flickered twice, casting the room in a dim, uncertain glow.

I huddled in the corner, one hand clutching my painfully throbbing belly, the other desperately searching the floor for my phone.

Cold sweat trickled down my forehead and into my eyes, mixing with my tears until I couldn't tell them apart anymore.

I called James. No answer the first time, no answer the second. After eight calls, all I got was the automated message saying no one was picking up.

The cold white glow of my phone screen reflected off my pale face, highlighting my fingers as they shook nonstop.

I had no idea how long I sat there on the floor.

My legs went from numbness to not feeling anything at all, and the pain in my belly shifted from sharp stabs to a dull, throbbing ache that wouldn't let up, until it felt so heavy I could barely catch my breath.

Propping myself up against the wall, I somehow managed to drag myself out the door, moving one shaky step at a time. I called a cab on my own and headed for River City General Hospital, completely alone.

The lights in the OB-GYN emergency room were so harsh I could barely keep my eyes open.

After the doctor finished her initial check, she had me lie down on the ultrasound table, the cold probe gliding again and again across my stomach.

I stared up at the pale fluorescent lights overhead, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

The doctor stayed silent for what felt like forever, and the air in the room seemed to freeze along with it.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally set the probe down and spoke in that gentle, regretful tone I dreaded most.

"I'm sorry, but the baby no longer has a heartbeat," she said.

In that moment, it was like a thunderclap tearing through my mind.

My vision went white, and everything around me seemed to drift away, muffled and far off.

I lay there, my lips moved, but I couldn't make a single sound.

All that remained was my own heartbeat, heavy and dull, echoing in my ears.

The doctor told me the baby was gone. At six months, I had to go through induced labor right away. If I didn't, it would only hurt me more.

I nodded, hollow and numb, like my soul had left my body, as the nurse wheeled me away to get me admitted.

It had been difficult for us to have this baby.

After we got married, James and I kept longing for a child, but I didn't get pregnant.

I went through countless rounds of herbal medicine and over a dozen grueling fertility injections. Every time, I started out hopeful, only to end up crushed by disappointment.

When those thick, long needles pierced my skin, I never made a sound.

I always thought, if I could have a baby, any pain would be worth it.

And then, finally, I got pregnant.

The day we got the test results, James was so excited his lips quivered.

He pulled me into a tight hug, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Thank you, Olivia. Thank you for wanting to build a family with me," he said.

He kept tracing his fingers over the sonogram, his eyes misty with tears, as if he was holding the most precious thing in the world.

I nestled into his arms, his joy seeping into me, and my heart softened.

Back then, I foolishly believed this baby would bring us back together, that it could rekindle what we'd lost in our marriage.

But now, all the hope and effort I'd poured in was completely shattered on this stormy night.

Right before they wheeled me into the operating room, I somehow opened my phone and tapped into Emily's latest update.

She'd posted a blurry photo, like she snapped it casually.

In the photo, James and Emily were lying side by side in bed, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close against him.

There wasn't a hint of space between them. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow on James's profile, his gaze soft with affection and love.

She only added two lines to the post.

It read: [I knew you'd come running the moment the thunder started. You'd never leave me all alone.]

My finger lingered on the screen for a long time, until the phone finally went dark.

I kept replaying that caption in my mind. Each word felt like a needle, pricking at my heart and then seeping through my veins, making everything ache.

Turned out, while I was in so much pain I could barely stand, James was busy holding his frightened first love close, making sure she felt safe.

Turned out, while I was all alone in a cab, rushing to River City General Hospital, he was wrapped up in someone else's arms, giving her all the tenderness that should've been mine.

Turned out, when I got the news that my baby was gone, he was right there for another woman, letting her lean on him like he was her whole world.

I closed my eyes, set my phone aside, and let the nurse wheel me into the operating room.

The chill inside felt like it seeped right into my bones.

I lay there all alone on the table, my legs strapped in place, cold instruments moving slowly inside me.

The doctor said my condition wasn't ideal, and using anesthesia would only make things more dangerous, so they didn't give me any.

I nodded and simply said I could take it.

I endured it all.

When the instruments scraped through me, the pain felt like something sharp and broken was ripping me up inside, again and again.

I gripped the sheets beneath me so hard my knuckles turned white, veins standing out on the back of my hand.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, but I never let a single cry escape.

I quietly counted the drops in the IV bag.

The medicine slid down the clear tube into my veins, its coldness matching the emptiness inside me.

I could feel my baby being taken from me, and the pain was beyond words. It was like something vital was being ripped out of me, tearing my soul apart in the process.

The last spark of hope inside me flickered out.

After what felt like an eternity, the rain outside finally started to slow.

At last, the surgery was finished.

The nurse wheeled me back to my room, tucked me in, and after a few quiet words, left me alone.

I lay there in that empty hospital room, with the lights out overhead, and that was when I knew exactly what I needed to do.

To James, Emily was the one he'd truly loved when he was young, the girl who made his heart race, the one he could never let go of, no matter what.

Me? I was the practical choice he made after he started his career, the woman he settled for when real life began.

I wasn't dazzling or special. I was simply the safe option, someone who could give him a steady life, someone he never felt truly indebted to.

There was no fiery passion between us, only the kind of familiarity that got worn thin by time.

My tears never earned his favor, and all the pain I endured never made him make an exception for me.

From beginning to end, I was the only one foolishly loving, clinging to the hope that a baby would make this house feel less empty.

This one-woman show? It was time to bring the curtain down.