Chapter 1
Before returning from our honeymoon, Andrew Hayes secretly canceled my ticket and handed the last seat to his childhood sweetheart, Summer Lynn. "She's terrified of typhoons and has to fly back tonight. Stay a couple more days, okay? Let her have it."
I pointed at the glaring red evacuation alert on my phone. "The port's shutting down tonight. If I stay, I might end up stranded here."
Andrew impatiently yanked his hand away from mine. "You know how to swim, you can speak Aldorian. She can't do any of that. How is that even fair?"
That night, a flash flood swept through the guesthouse.
A wooden beam crashed down on me, and I lost my baby, who was only six weeks along. I had emergency treatment and surgery at the island's makeshift hospital.
Once my condition stabilized, the rescue team arranged for me to be medically evacuated back home.
The rescue team lent me a spare phone. The moment I logged in, I saw Summer had posted an update. [Someone saved the last seat on the honeymoon flight for me. It feels so good to be protected.]
In the photo, she was leaning against Andrew's shoulder, wearing his wedding ring on her finger.
The quarantine doctor asked if I wanted to contact my husband.
I stared at the photo for a long time, then said calmly, "I don't have a husband."
After refusing to let them contact Andrew, I signed the form, and my phone buzzed again.
My phone had already flashed Andrew's name nine times on the screen.
I picked up the tenth call, feeling nothing at all.
He asked, "Is your wound still bleeding?"
My throat tightened.
His voice grew heavy. "If you can talk, at least let Summer know you're okay.
"She's been crying ever since she got off the plane. You know she has panic attacks. Are you really going to punish her by ignoring her?"
The doctor cut away the gauze stuck to my side, as blood began to seep out again.
I watched as blood welled up once more, and whispered, "Andrew, the baby's gone."
There was a sudden silence on the other end.
After a long pause, he finally asked, "Where are you?"
That was the first time he bothered to ask where I was since we started talking.
I said, "I'm in the airport's emergency room.
"The baby was only six weeks old. The doctors on the island already took care of the procedure."
His breathing grew ragged. "Are you still bleeding? Any fever?
"Send me the details of the hospital and your diagnosis report."
I took a photo of the diagnosis page from my discharge summary and sent it to him.
He stared at it for a long time.
I thought maybe, finally, he'd believe me. Maybe he'd finally apologize.
But Andrew said quietly, "The baby was real. I misunderstood.
"But I was the one who canceled the ticket. The flood was something no one could control.
"You can't put all the blame on Summer for what happened."
I gripped my phone tightly. "When did I ever blame her?"
He said, "You haven't replied to her messages, and she's been crying so much she can hardly catch her breath.
"You know she hates being indebted to anyone, and now everyone thinks it's her fault you lost the baby."
He knew I was hurt.
But that didn't matter to him. What really concerned him was whether Summer would be upset because of it.
"Andrew, I almost died," I said.
His voice was so soft it sounded tired. "I know.
"You're with doctors now, and you can tell them what happened.
"Summer panics so easily, she can't even tell where she is when she's scared.
"I'll take her home first, then I'll head to the hospital in two hours. Wait for me, okay?"
Suddenly, there was the sound of a cup crashing to the floor.
In the background, Summer sobbed, "Andrew, I can't breathe..."
Andrew, who'd just been asking if I had a fever, immediately spun around, all his attention on Summer. "Look at me, Summer. Breathe with me, nice and slow.
"Is your medicine in your bag?
"Don't stay down there. Let me help you up."
The call was still connected.
I could hear him patiently counting for her, his voice gentle and soothing. "One, two, three.
"Don't be scared. I'm right here."
The night we got our marriage certificate, I had a fever that wouldn't go away. He held me all night, saying that as long as I opened my eyes, he'd be right there.
Later, I learned to handle everything myself, taking medicine, seeing the doctor alone. And he gave those words to the one who always needed him more.
The medic who escorted me home walked in and set the sealed bag with my things from the island rescue station on my pillow.
He overheard the conversation and took the phone from my hand. "Mr. Hayes, when Mrs. Hayes was rescued, her blood pressure had dropped to sixty. She'd been in the water for four hours, holding onto her stomach the entire time.
"If we'd been ten minutes later, even the adult wouldn't have survived."
There was complete silence on the other end.
Summer's voice trembled as she choked out, "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken that flight."
Andrew didn't even hesitate. "It's not your fault. Who could've predicted a flash flood?"
Then he turned to me, trying to comfort me, "Summer's already beating herself up over this.
"You're always the sensible one. Don't make things harder for her.
"I'll come pick you up in two hours."
Inside the bag was my old phone, ruined by water, the transfer records, and a red medical transport tag.
On the tag, it said: [Critical Condition.
[Six weeks pregnant.
[Post-curettage.
[Emergency contact: None.]
I took off my wedding ring and slipped it into a clear bag.
The nurse asked what it was.
I stared at the worn engraving inside the ring, "Andrew's Heart Belongs to Tara Simmons", and wrote one word on the form.
Trash.
Only the protective charm engraved with "Little Bean, be safe" did I take out of the bag and slip into my medicine pouch.
Two hours passed.
The hospital room door never opened.