Chapter 2
Yolanda woke up the next afternoon.
Sunlight streamed through the window and fell softly across her face. She slowly opened her eyes and saw a white ceiling. An IV bottle hung beside the bed, and a needle was taped to the back of her hand, leaving a large bruise underneath.
Her hand moved to her stomach without thinking. It was flat.
For a moment, everything inside her seemed to freeze.
She pushed herself up suddenly, and the movement pulled at her wounds, making her gasp.
Her hand pressed against her lower abdomen again and again, as if she needed to confirm it.
"Where is the baby?" Her voice came out hoarse and strained, almost unrecognizable. "Where is my baby?"
A nurse stepped into the doorway. When she saw that Yolanda was awake, she hurried over. "Mrs. Fennimore, please try to stay calm.
"You had severe bleeding last night, and the baby couldn't be saved. The doctor said you need plenty of rest—"
Yolanda didn't hear the rest.
A loud ringing filled her ears. She lowered her head and stared at her flat stomach.
That tiny life she had carried for over three months, the one she believed was the last thing tying her to Mortimer, was gone.
Her mouth opened slightly, and a faint, broken sound slipped out. It sounded like a small animal in pain.
It wasn't really crying. It was something quieter and more desperate, as if the sound had been squeezed out from deep within her bones.
She lay back down on the bed, pulled the blanket over her head, and wrapped herself up tightly.
Inside the blanket, she curled into herself, bit down on the back of her hand, and forced every cry back down. Blood slowly seeped through her skin where she bit, but she didn't let go.
*****
Mortimer showed up on the third day.
He stood in the doorway of the hospital room, wearing a dark gray trench coat, with nothing in his hands.
His expression was flat. His eyes swept over Yolanda on the bed, paused briefly on the bouquet on the nightstand that had already started to wilt, and then moved away.
"The doctor said you had a miscarriage," he said. His tone sounded like he was talking about the weather.
Yolanda leaned back against the pillows. Her face was pale, almost translucent, and her lips were colorless.
She looked at him standing all the way by the door, the distance between them stretching across the whole room. He looked like a boss dropping by to check on an employee.
"Mortimer, I called you the night before last," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. "Pansy fell and got hurt, and I was at the hospital with her."
"My stomach hurt. I was bleeding. The baby is gone," Yolanda said.
"Pansy broke her leg, and they had to put in two steel pins," he said. His brow tightened slightly, as if he thought she should understand which situation mattered more.
Yolanda looked at his cold face and suddenly felt like laughing.
They had been married for four years. When she lost their child, he stayed with another woman. He didn't even step into her room. He didn't sit by her bed. He didn't ask her once if she was in pain.
He just stood there like a stranger, looking at her as if she were a random passerby.
"Mortimer, let's get a divorce," she said. Her voice was calm, so calm that it didn't sound like someone who had just lost a child.
Mortimer paused. His brow furrowed deeper. "What did you say?"
"I said let's get a divorce," Yolanda repeated. Her voice stayed flat, without any emotion. "When we got married, you said that if one day I wanted to leave, you would not stop me. I want to leave now."
Mortimer stood there in silence for a few seconds. He looked at her carefully. Her face showed nothing.
Her eyes were dry. There were no tears, no pleading, none of the breakdown he expected. She spoke about divorce as if it were something small, something that didn't matter.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I'm sure," Yolanda said with a small nod.
"Fine," he said. Then he turned and left.
The sound of his leather shoes echoed down the hallway, step by step, growing fainter until it disappeared completely.
Yolanda leaned back and closed her eyes. The sunlight fell across her eyelids, warm and soft, like a gentle hand brushing over her.
She didn't cry. Since that night, she had not cried at all.
The divorce went through quickly.
Mortimer's lawyer brought over the agreement. In the section about assets, it stated that Mortimer was willing to give her six million dollars and a villa in the eastern part of the city as compensation.
Yolanda didn't even read it. She flipped straight to the last page and signed her name.