Chapter 3
On my second day in the hospital, Adam finally showed up.
He had not come because he knew I had miscarried.
He had come because I had stopped replying to his messages.
When he pushed open the door, I was sitting in bed eating oatmeal.
A nurse had bought it for me.
He stood in the doorway, his brows drawn tightly together. "Summer, so you really are in the hospital."
I looked up at him.
He was wearing the same coat as the day before, with a faint crease at the cuff.
It was obvious he had barely slept.
But I no longer flattered myself into thinking it had anything to do with me.
He walked in, his gaze sweeping over the IV stand and the hospital room. "What's wrong with you?"
I did not answer.
As if his patience had run out, his voice turned cold. "You put yourself in the hospital all because I went to stay with Chloe last night?"
My hand stilled around the spoon.
He did not know.
He still did not know.
The baby was gone.
Those seventeen calls had been the final cries for help from my baby and me.
Yet he thought I had somehow made myself sick on purpose.
Suddenly, I no longer wanted to explain. "Adam Grant. Let's get a divorce."
His expression darkened instantly. "Here we go again.
"Summer Lane, can you act like an adult for once?
"Chloe had a panic attack last night. Her whole body was shaking.
"How could I possibly ignore her in that condition?"
I looked at him. "What about me?"
He frowned, "It's not the first time you've had an emotional breakdown.
"The system classified you as highly emotional, not as a medical emergency."
I let out a quiet laugh. "You trust the system?"
Adam answered without hesitation, "Of course.
"I personally trained FamilySense's assessment model.
"You called seventeen times in a row last night. That matches the pattern of escalating partner conflict.
"It blocked you to keep us from having a pointless argument while we were emotional."
He called it a pointless argument.
Apparently, begging him to save me while I bled was a pointless argument.
I lowered my gaze to the cold oatmeal in the bowl. "What if the system was wrong?"
Adam was silent for a second. "It would not make a mistake on such a basic assessment."
I nodded. "Fine."
The crease between his brows deepened.
My calm probably unsettled him.
In the past, I would have explained.
I would have felt wronged.
I would have asked him through red-rimmed eyes why my messages always had to wait while one "I'm scared" from Chloe could send him out in the middle of the night.
But now, I did not want to ask anything.
Adam stood beside the bed, his voice softening. "Summer, stop making a scene.
"I know pregnancy has made you emotionally sensitive.
"But you can't use the baby and divorce to threaten me merely because I took care of Chloe."
Something tugged lightly at my heart.
So he still remembered I was pregnant.
He did not know the baby was already gone.
I looked up at him. "Adam, what if something really had happened to me last night?"
He looked as if I had said something absurd. "You're sitting here perfectly fine now, aren't you?"
I looked at him and suddenly found the hospital lights painfully bright. "That's right. I'm still alive."
Only the baby was gone.
And I had nearly died before I could sit here and listen to him blame me.
Adam could not understand my calm.
He assumed I was being sarcastic again. "Summer.
"You were never like this before.
"You used to understand me. You used to trust me."
I said softly, "I used to believe I had some priority with you too."
He froze.
I set the bowl of oatmeal on the bedside table. "Now I know I never did."