Chapter 3

I curled up tightly on the hospital bed. My empty belly felt cold and throbbed with pain.

I didn't dare reach out to touch it.

I feared my crying would disturb my baby's spirit.

Elders say a mother must not cry when her child passes away.

Crying disturbs the child's peace and keeps them from crossing over peacefully.

I only prayed that in whatever life comes next, he would find a loving mother and be born into a world of peace and safety.

I didn't even realize when I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, Eric was watching me with a worried expression. "You were having a nightmare," he said.

"Yeah, I dreamed about Vanessa," I replied.

"She was hiding in a dark corner, then suddenly jumped out and yelled, 'There's a cat,'" I said.

"I'm terrified of cats, so I freaked out. I thought she was going to help me up, but instead, she grabbed my hand and pushed me down the stairs," I continued.

"I was still pregnant, and I fell down the stairs, rolling all the way. It hurt like hell, and I was bleeding so much. I begged you to take me to the hospital, but you said Vanessa's hand was bleeding and you had to patch her up first. That delay..." I choked out.

"Stop it," Eric snapped at me. "I've told you before, Vanessa didn't mean it."

I shot back, "Who would mess around like that with a woman seven months pregnant? Did she want to see if a pregnant woman would die from falling down a flight of stairs?"

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at him. "We could have saved him if we had gotten to the hospital in time. He was already six months old. Your son."

Tears glistened in Eric's eyes as he pulled me into his arms. "Claire, it is all in the past. Stop thinking about it. Will you eat something?"

I had no appetite at all.

But for some reason, I wanted a bite of broth-filled steamed buns.

Ever since I got pregnant, I couldn't get enough of them.

That shop always had a crazy line, and I kept asking Eric to buy them for me, but he'd always say he was too busy with work.

I figured it was the baby craving them. I would rub my belly and promise him that once he was born, I'd cook up a feast of delicious food for him.

Eric looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, no broth-filled steamed buns. How about some gruel instead?"

He pulled out a dented can of lukewarm instant gruel.

My heart was far colder than that cold gruel.

Then Vanessa called him. "Eric, these broth-filled steamed buns taste awful. Seriously, what's the big deal with Claire loving them? Absolute garbage."

I could hear her chucking the buns into the trash can.

I shot Eric a furious glare.

Eric quickly hung up. "Sorry, Vanessa said she was starving, and I couldn't refuse her."

Tears streamed down my face.

All of a sudden, I felt a strange sense of gratitude for my baby.

Maybe it was a blessing that he never had to be Eric's child.

"How about I peel you an apple? Weren't apples your favorite when you were pregnant?" Eric said, trying to placate me.

My heart turned icy cold.

I never actually liked apples.

His mom always insisted pregnant women had to eat an apple every day because it was supposed to be good for the baby's health.

So I made myself choke one down every day, hoping my baby would be born with soft, pale skin.

The doctor who delivered my stillborn baby said he would have been beautiful.

As soon as Vanessa called, Eric dropped the apple and answered right away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Vanessa was crying on the other end. "Eric, every time I close my eyes, I get so scared. Claire terrified me. Can you come over and keep me company?"

"Hey, don't worry, I'll be there in a sec," Eric said.

Eric set his phone down, cracked open a can of cold, watery gruel, and pushed it toward me. "Here, have some. You've always been so tough on your own, haven't you?"

I didn't even reach for it.

Throughout all my attempts to conceive and my pregnancy, Eric contributed nothing but low-quality sperm.

He called the grit I had to muster to survive "independence," like it was nothing.

And then he could shamelessly go hang out with the woman who killed our baby, without a care in the world.

I stared at the apple on the table, half-peeled and left behind.

The flesh slowly oxidized and turned brown.

It could never go back to how it was.

It was exactly like my eight-year marriage to Eric.

"Let's take it to court and get divorced right now. No need to wait or think it over," I said.