Chapter 4
The day I got out of the hospital, Andrew sent me the address for a streaming studio: [Swing by tonight. I'll help set the record straight about you online.]
Summer was a travel blogger.
After her typhoon posts resurfaced, her sponsors demanded she explain how she ended up with the last seat.
Andrew said the livestream would only talk about what really happened.
He paused, his voice softening. "She never messed with your booking account, and the flood really was a natural disaster. Once this is over, she'll move out, and her access privileges will be canceled.
"Tara, can we try again?"
I stayed silent for a moment. "Okay."
The lights backstage were blinding.
Andrew noticed how pale I looked and immediately told his assistant to replace the ice water on the table. He also blocked the stylist's hand from reaching me. "She's got an injury on her left cheek. Don't touch her."
He opened the painkillers himself and brought a glass of warm water to my lips. "Take it. Don't force yourself."
He crouched down and gently smoothed out my skirt for me. "Help me this once, okay?
"Even if she cries again, I won't let her step foot in our bedroom anymore."
The livestream kicked off.
The host asked, "Did Summer ever cancel your ticket without asking you?"
"No, she never did anything with my account," I said.
"So why was your ticket canceled, then?"
Andrew sat off-camera, his palm resting on my knee, his thumb gently rubbing circles.
I said, "That was a family decision.
"The flood was nature. No one could've seen it coming."
I never said it was voluntary, nor did I absolve anyone of responsibility.
But the brand changed the headline to: [Tara Clears the Air: Summer Didn't Steal the Ticket, Flood Was Just Bad Luck]
The chat instantly exploded with insults.
Someone said: [Is she really milking her miscarriage for sympathy?]
Another echoed: [So it was a family decision, and now she's throwing her friend under the bus online?]
Someone else chimed in: [Any guy who marries a woman like her is asking for misery.]
I read every single one.
Andrew finally let out a sigh of relief, his voice low and relaxed. "I knew you wouldn't make things hard for me."
He didn't thank me.
He took it for granted that I'd go along with whatever he wanted.
After the main interview wrapped up, the brand had planned a ten-minute behind-the-scenes livestream.
The crew was busy packing up, and no one noticed the backup camera off to the side was still rolling.
Summer started breathing hard, and in her panic, she bumped into my bag.
The protective charm rolled over to her, and she instinctively grabbed it.
Seeing her settle down, Andrew slipped it onto her wrist.
I held his hand back. "That's for the baby."
His hand froze, but he still didn't let go. "She's borrowing it for now."
"Andrew."
Andrew leaned in, his voice dropping even lower. "She can't even catch her breath right now.
"It's just a protective charm. Is it really that important to take it back now?"
I stared at the protective charm now resting on her wrist.
So even the only thing left from my baby has to go to someone else first, because I'm always the one who can take it.
Andrew added, "If you keep it, every time you look at it, it's going to sting all over again.
"Let Summer wear it for a few days. At least that way it won't sit there gathering dust.
"When we have another kid, I'll buy them something even nicer."
Another kid.
So that's how it is. Kids are like jewelry now.
If one's gone, get a new one.
Summer moved to take it off.
Andrew caught her hand, stopping her. "It's fine, wear it.
"Once I give someone something, I can't take it back right away."
The assistant finally realized the backup camera was still rolling and hurriedly shut it off.
But those last few minutes had already been screen-recorded by people online.
Backstage was in total chaos.
But Andrew walked straight over to me, crouched down, and started tying my loose shoelace.
As his fingers touched my skirt, he suddenly spotted blood soaking through the waistband and along the seam.
His face went pale in an instant. "Why are you bleeding again?
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
I looked down at him. "I already told you."
Just those four words.
From the island's red alert, to the baby, to the hospital corridor, and even now during the livestream.
I've been saying it again and again.
But he never truly listened.
After the livestream ended, Andrew drove me straight to the hospital.
The doctor bandaged me up tight, checked that my wound hadn't reopened, and told me to go home and stay in bed.
On the way back, Andrew kept holding my hand. "Sorry for everything you had to go through tonight.
"When we get home, I'll help you change your bandage.
"Once I've sorted things out with Summer, I'll be all yours."
"Aren't you afraid I'll really leave?" I asked.
Andrew smiled.
He pulled me into his arms. "Where would you even go?
"Four years of college, three years of marriage, every time you got upset, you always came back, didn't you?"
His lips pressed gently against my hair, his voice both affectionate and certain. "I can put her first, because I know you'll never walk away from me."
That night, he knelt beside my bed and changed my bandage for me.
When he saw the wound, his brows furrowed with worry. "It won't happen again."
In the middle of the night, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. "Are you still mad?"
"No," I replied.
He pulled me closer, satisfied. "I love how you always end up feeling for me."
At five in the morning, I turned off the alarm clock we'd shared for seven years and set his stomach medicine and a glass of warm water on the nightstand.
I didn't take any of the jewelry, bags, or gifts he'd given me.
I only took my ID, my meds, and a photo of my mom.
As the first train pulled out of the station, Andrew sent me a message: [Where are you?]