Chapter 1
The lights in the operating room went dark. When I woke up, no one was waiting outside.
I lay on the gurney as the nurse wheeled me back to my room.
On the eighth day of my hospital stay, I was finally discharged.
As I walked out of the hospital, I saw him.
My husband, Adam Carter.
He was across the street, outside the mall, holding a woman's hand.
That woman was my bestie for ten years, Theresa Lane.
They were laughing and chatting, shopping bags in hand.
I stood there, frozen, watching them for three whole minutes.
They didn't see me.
*****
"Honey, I'm going on a business trip. It might take about a week," Adam had told me eight days ago.
That day, I'd just found out I was two months pregnant, but I hadn't had a chance to tell him yet.
I was planning to surprise him when he got back.
But the surprise never happened. Instead, I started bleeding. It wouldn't stop.
At three in the morning, I took a cab to the hospital alone.
I called him. "Adam, I'm bleeding. Where are you?" I said, my voice trembling.
He went silent for a moment.
"I told you, I'm out of town. Just go to the hospital," he replied.
"Adam, can you come back? I'm really scared," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"I'm in the middle of a business deal. I can't just leave. Don't worry. It's probably just something you ate," he replied.
I hung up the phone.
I checked myself in, waited in line, and got all the tests done alone.
The doctor looked really worried.
He said, "Looks like you're having a threatened miscarriage. It's not looking good. I think you should stay in the hospital for observation."
I signed the hospital admission papers.
The hospital room was a double, and the woman in the bed next to mine was heavily pregnant. Her belly was huge.
Every day, her husband brought her meals and kept her company at night.
I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I texted Adam: [I'm in the hospital. The doctor says it's a threatened miscarriage.]
He replied, [What? Is it serious? Just drink more water and rest up. I'll come see you when I finish up here.]
I waited.
First day. He didn't come.
Second day. Still no sign of him.
I called him again.
"Adam, when are you coming back?" I asked.
"A few more days. This project is dragging. I'll be back soon," Adam replied.
On the third day, the pregnant woman in the next bed went for her check-up. Her husband walked beside her the whole way.
When they came back, he was showing her the sonogram pictures on his phone.
"Look, hon, the baby's kicking," he said, grinning.
She beamed. Her whole face lit up with happiness.
I turned my head and stared out the window.
My baby kept waiting for his dad, but he never showed up.
On the fourth day, in the dead of night, a sharp pain jolted me awake.
The nurse pressed the call button, and the doctor rushed in.
"This is bad. We need to operate now," the doctor said, urgency in his voice.
I grabbed the nurse's hand.
"My husband..." I whispered, barely holding back tears.
"Did you reach your family? We need someone to sign the consent form," the doctor said.
My phone rang.
It was Adam.
"Why are you calling me at this hour?" he said.
"I need surgery. Can you come and sign the papers?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Wait, what surgery?" he asked, sounding confused.
"For the miscarriage," I whispered.
He went quiet for a few seconds.
"I... I really can't make it back. Can't the hospital figure something out? Or can you just sign it yourself?" He sounded far away, almost detached.
"Me? Sign it myself?" I echoed, my voice trembling.
"Yeah, just talk to the doctor. You can probably handle it yourself, right?" he said, his tone distant and unconcerned.
I didn't say a word.
The nurse stood beside me, her eyes full of sympathy and helplessness.
In the end, I signed the consent form myself.
Before the surgery, the nurse asked, "Where's your husband?"
I said, "He's away on business."
She just sighed and didn't ask anything else.
The surgery was quick.
When I woke up, I was the only one left in the room.
The pregnant woman in the next bed was leaving. Her husband was gently draping a coat over her shoulders.
"Take it slow. Watch your step," he said softly.
I lay there and watched them walk out of the room, then disappear down the hallway.
My phone rang.
It was Adam.
"How'd it go? You alright?" he asked.
"It was fine," I replied.
"Good. Get some rest, okay? I'll try to make it back in a day or two," he said.
"Okay," I replied.
After I hung up, I finally noticed my pillow was damp. I must've cried more than I thought.
Day five.
Day six.
Day seven.
He never came.
He hardly even called at all.
Once in a while, he'd send a quick message: [Busy today. Talk later.]
I didn't want to fight. I didn't have the strength.
After the surgery, my body felt so weak. The nurse told me to rest, stay warm, no cold drinks.
I ordered food by myself, went to my check-up alone, and signed my own discharge papers.
On the eighth day, I was finally out.
I stood at the hospital entrance and called Adam.
"I just got out," I said.
"Oh, you're out? Just head home. I'll probably be back this afternoon," he replied.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Still out of town. Almost done here," he replied.
"Oh," I said.
I hung up the phone.
That was when I saw him.
He was right across the street, standing outside the mall.
He was wearing the blue shirt I'd picked out for him. Theresa was standing close by his side.
He was holding her hand. They were laughing and chatting together.
She leaned on his shoulder, acting sweet and playful, just like a little girl.
He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She laughed, giving him a playful slap.
I stood there, frozen, watching them for three whole minutes.
They didn't see me.
I turned around and hailed a cab.
"Nearest hotel, please," I told the driver.
I didn't go home. I went to a hotel.