Chapter 3

At five thirty, the last strip of sunlight disappeared behind dark clouds.

I sat on the couch with one hand over my stomach, watching the front door.

Gavin had promised.

He would be home before six.

The gift box waited on the coffee table.

The moment he walked in, I would hand it to him.

I would tell him about the baby.

Then I would give our marriage one final chance.

Five fifty-nine.

The hallway remained silent.

Six o’clock.

No call.

At six ten, the dull ache in my abdomen sharpened.

I drew in a slow breath.

I was probably just tired.

I pushed myself off the couch to clear the cold dinner.

Two steps later, pain ripped through my lower abdomen.

My vision went black.

I grabbed the edge of the table.

A plate crashed to the floor.

My knees struck the tile.

Warm liquid slid down my leg.

I looked down.

Blood was spreading across my pale skirt.

For one second, I could not move.

Then I pressed one hand to the floor and crawled toward my phone.

The screen had cracked in the fall.

I called emergency services and gave them my address, the door code, and how far along I was.

The dispatcher told me to stay awake.

An ambulance was already coming.

I leaned against the couch, one hand locked over my stomach.

Gavin’s name filled the screen.

I stared at it before pressing call.

Not because I expected him to save me.

Help was already on the way.

I only wanted to know whether the truth would make him choose me once.

He answered quickly, irritation already in his voice.

“Elara? I told you, I can’t leave right now.”

“What happened this time?”

I looked at the blood soaking through my skirt.

“Gavin.”

“I’m bleeding.”

Silence.

“What?”

“I’m bleeding right now.”

His breathing changed.

Then Serena’s voice came through the phone.

“Gavin, Noah is asking for you.”

A child cried somewhere behind her.

Gavin did not answer me.

A few seconds passed.

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“Yes.”

Relief entered his voice.

“Good.”

“The doctors can help you more than I can. I’ll come as soon as Noah calms down.”

I said nothing.

His tone hardened.

“Elara, stop competing with a child.”

“I promised Noah I wouldn’t leave.”

Another promise.

He had promised to be home at eight.

Then before six.

Now he was standing beside someone else’s child, telling me he could not break his word.

I looked toward the dark window.

“Then keep your promise.”

I ended the call.

The room fell silent except for my breathing.

My eyes moved to the white roses.

Only one broken promise remained before the jar was full.

I reached for a rose with a bloodstained hand.

My fingers shook as I closed them around one white petal.

I pulled.

It dropped into the glass jar.

Number three hundred and sixty-five.

The jar was full.

I closed the lid.

A hard knock sounded at the door.

“Elara Whitmore?”

The paramedics were here.

I tried to answer.

But the room tilted, and the glass jar slipped from my hand.

The last thing I heard was someone shouting,

“She’s losing too much blood.”