Chapter 2
Wendy glared at me, but her tears only streamed down harder.
"Just shut up already!" she yelled.
I blacked out in her car.
When I came to, I was already in the hospital.
The room was quiet, with only the steady beeping of the machines filling the silence.
It was already dark outside the window—I had no idea what time it was.
Without thinking, I reached for my stomach.
It was flat, empty—just hollow.
Nothing remained. Everything was gone.
My mind went blank. Only after a few seconds did it hit me what that meant.
"Where's the baby?" I asked.
No one answered me.
I turned my head and saw Wendy, asleep with her head resting on the edge of the bed.
Her eyes were puffy and swollen, and there were tear stains on her face that hadn't dried yet.
Her hand was gripping mine so tightly, like she was afraid I might disappear.
"Wendy," I called softly.
She jolted awake, and when she saw I was awake, fresh tears sprang to her eyes.
"Mia..." she whispered.
"Where's the baby?" I asked.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
I just stared at her, waiting for her to say something.
After what felt like forever, she finally spoke, her voice trembling.
"He was a boy, weighed 8 pounds. The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, and he was deprived of oxygen for too long. Mia, I'm so sorry. I was too late."
I closed my eyes.
It was strange—I didn't even cry.
I was just so drained, so worn out that I couldn't even cry.
"Don't cry, it's alright. It just wasn't meant to be for me and him," she said softly.
As soon as I finished, Wendy's face suddenly shifted.
"Spencer?" she asked.
Struggling, I picked up my phone, opened my feed, and handed it over to her, keeping my tone calm.
"Look, he's in Fjordland. He just posted on his feed.
"The caption says he's with the person he loves most, watching the northern lights."
In the photo, Spencer and Lily were standing in the snow, grinning—he looked even happier than he did on our wedding day.
Wendy was so angry she nearly smashed my phone.
I reached out and tried to comfort her. "I'm fine. It's not worth getting yourself worked up over."
She stared at me for a while, then suddenly gripped my hand.
"Mia, if you want to cry, just let it out. Don't hold it in," she said softly.
"I'm not crying. I've cried enough already," I replied.
I really had.
Ever since I found out he was back in touch with Lily.
Ever since I caught him sneaking off to take calls late at night, avoiding me.
Ever since he started going on those so-called "business trips" all the time.
I'd cried so many times, I'd lost count.
Every time he brushed me off, every time he lied, I'd hide in the bathroom and cry where he couldn't see me.
I told myself he hadn't moved on yet, but he'd come around.
I told myself that now that we had a child, he would settle down for the baby's sake.
I told myself that I'd loved him for so many years—he wouldn't let me down.
But now I knew.
He would.
*****
I stared up at the ceiling, and all those memories I'd tried so hard to bury came flooding back.
I first met Spencer when I was sixteen.
Back then, my mom was still working as a maid for the Sutton family, and after school, I'd go to their house to wait for her to finish her shift.
I was crouched in a corner of the backyard doing my homework when suddenly a basketball landed beside me, kicking up a cloud of dust.
I looked up and saw a young man standing in the sunset, backlit by the golden light. He looked as if he had been dipped in gold.
"Sorry, did I hit you?" he asked, jogging over and crouching down beside me.
That was Spencer Cole. A friend of the Sutton family's son, visiting to hang out.
I shook my head and went back to my homework.
But he didn't leave. Instead, he crouched down and peeked at my homework.
"Hey, you messed up this one," he said.
I froze for a second, then looked up at him.
He pointed at my math homework and said, "Looks like you used the wrong formula here.
"You need this other one"
He stayed crouched beside me and patiently walked me through it for ten whole minutes.
Then, still crouching, he spent ten minutes explaining the problem to me. When he finished, he stood up, dusted off his pants, and smiled.
"I'm Spencer. What's your name?" he asked.
"Mia Nolan," I replied.
"Mia Nolan," he repeated my name, nodding in approval.
"Nice name. If you ever have questions, you can ask me."
Then he went back to shooting hoops with the Sutton boy.
I crouched there, watching his back as he headed off, and my heart skipped a beat.
That year, I was sixteen, and he was seventeen.
After that, I started seeing him at the Suttons' place all the time.
He was the Sutton son's childhood best friend. Their families had known each other for generations. He came almost every week.
Every time he came over, he'd always swing by the backyard to check if I was around.