Chapter 2
Charles looked up, his eyes flashing with both defiance and smug satisfaction.
"So, Michael, does that finally cool you off?" he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
I checked the transaction—payment received.
"Come again next time," I said.
Sophia slapped me right across the face.
The slap rang out, and half my face went numb.
Charles was about to reach out to help her when the doorbell suddenly rang.
I walked over and opened the door.
A delivery guy was standing outside, holding a cardboard box.
"Mr. Brown, your baby keepsake box has arrived. Please sign for it," he said.
Sophia's face went ghostly pale when she saw the words "Custom Baby Hair Brush Set" printed on the box.
The box sat in the entryway.
No one moved.
Charles's gaze landed on the box, and he frowned slightly.
"Michael, did you buy this just to upset Sophia?" Charles asked.
Sophia immediately turned to me, her eyes filled with that familiar reproach.
As if losing the baby was somehow my fault for not being supportive enough.
I crouched down and opened the box.
Inside, three small wooden boxes were lined up side by side.
Each lid had a date carved into it.
The first one: 59 days.
The second: 73 days.
The third: 68 days.
But these weren't baby hair brushes.
They were keepsake boxes I'd secretly had made.
They were so small, and they never even had the chance to be named.
Sophia stared at the three dates, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something.
But Charles stepped forward, blocking her view.
"Sophia, don't look. You're still not recovered. Michael, this is too cruel," he said.
Cruel.
When he said that, I suddenly let out a laugh.
"Charles, do you even know where Sophia was when we lost our first baby?" I asked.
His face went stiff for a moment.
"I was drunk that day. She just gave me a ride home," he said.
"And what about the second time?" I pressed.
Charles muttered, "She was just there to help me clear my head. It's not like she didn't want to go."
"And the third time?" I pushed.
Charles went quiet, not saying a word.
Sophia's eyes welled up with tears.
"Michael, that's enough," she said.
But I didn't stop.
"The night we lost our third child, you called her and threatened to jump off the balcony if she didn't come," I said.
Sophia cut me off, her voice sharp and trembling.
"Charles was really in danger that day!" Sophia snapped.
I nodded, feeling the weight of it all settle in my chest.
"And we really lost the baby," I said.
The room was so quiet, the only sound was the air conditioner humming in the background.
Sophia held onto the edge of the table, her body swaying for a moment.
Charles was quick to steady her, his hand settling naturally on her waist.
I'd seen that move a thousand times before.
Every time, I told myself not to be petty.
Her guy friend from work, her confidant, just got divorced, afraid to be alone, falling apart emotionally. There was always something.
Every one of those words was like a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Sophia sank onto the couch, closing her eyes in exhaustion.
"Michael, I know you're hurting, but Charles didn't mean any harm," she said.
"I'm hurting too, losing the baby," she added.
"But I can't just sit by and let something happen to a living, breathing person," Sophia said.
I placed the three wooden boxes on the coffee table.
"So the three unborn babies, they don't count as living people?" I said.
She suddenly opened her eyes wide.
Charles's breath caught, and he spoke in a low voice.
"Michael, don't say that. Sophia will lose it," he said.
I looked at him.
"Did you get your divorce certificate yet?" I asked.
Charles froze.
Sophia frowned.
"Why are you asking that?" she said.
"He just got divorced, and he's falling apart emotionally," I shot back, tossing her own excuse right at her.
"So, he must have a divorce certificate, right?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Charles's eyes darted, a hint of hesitation showing.
"It's at home," he muttered.
I picked up my phone.
"The city hall opens this afternoon. Let's go check together," I said.
Sophia snatched my phone right out of my hand.
"Michael, are you really going to push everyone into a corner?" she snapped.
Her palm was cold.
Suddenly, I remembered our first prenatal checkup. She took my hand and placed it on her belly, smiled and said, "Our baby will definitely look just like you."
That felt like a lifetime ago.
Charles's tears started to fall.
"Sophia, don't fight with Michael because of me," he said.
He turned and headed for the door.
But as he reached the entryway, his legs suddenly buckled and he slumped into the shoe cabinet.
Sophia rushed over.
"Charles!" she called out.
I just stood there, frozen.
Charles collapsed against her, his face ghostly pale, clutching her sleeve in a death grip.
"Don't take me to the hospital. I don't want anyone to see me like this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sophia looked up at me.
"Michael, give me the car keys," she said.
The doctor's words were still echoing in my head.
She'd just had a D&C. She couldn't overexert herself, couldn't catch a chill, couldn't get worked up.
But there she was, holding Charles like he was a fragile treasure.
I tossed the car keys onto the coffee table.