Later that night, the pain hit. It felt like
someone was juggling durians inside my
stomach.
I cried out for Ethan, but he wasn’t there. The pain was so intense I could barely hold my phone. My hand shaking, I dialed his number.
“Ethan, I’m really sick. Please come take me to
the hospital.”
Zach’s voice was clear on the other end. “Daddy, play shadow puppets with me!”
Ethan’s voice, soft and reassuring, responded
to Zach, then to me. “Anna, I can’t leave right
now. Just take some pain medication. The power’s out at Ashley’s. She’s alone with the
kids and she’s scared.”
My breath caught in my throat. A chill spread
through me.
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10:44
Slowly, deliberately, I said, “Seventy–seven.
This is your last chance, Ethan. I’m in a lot of
pain. Take me to the hospital.”
Seventy–seven.
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The 77th time he’d chosen Ashley and her kids
over me.
Seventy–seven was my limit. This was it.
Ethan chuckled. “Anna, don’t be dramatic. You
were fine when I left. Don’t be so petty.”
I ended up taking a cab to the hospital alone.
I lost the baby.
Lying in the sterile, antiseptic–smelling room, I
touched my stomach, staring blankly at the
white walls.
The doctor tried to comfort me. “Your body
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10:44
wasn’t ready for this pregnancy. It was
protecting you. Don’t be too upset.”
My body was protecting me…
After all these years, I finally understood. The only one who could truly protect me was
myself.
Exhausted, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke
up, Ethan was sitting beside my bed, his face
etched with worry. He must have been
contacted by the hospital; he was listed as my
emergency contact.
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He reached for my hand, his eyes avoiding
mine. “I’m so sorry, Anna. I didn’t know… about
the baby.”
I pulled my hand away, looking out the window.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled onto my
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hand. I wiped them away with my other hand,
moving it further from his reach.
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He fumbled, trying to take my hand again.
“Anna, I was wrong. I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have kept pretending and taking care
of Ashley and Zach. I didn’t know… I didn’t
know it was this serious. Please, give me
another chance.”
I looked at him coldly, pulled out my phone, and played the recording of our phone call from the previous night. “I told you. That was your last
chance.”
The light went out of his eyes. He agreed to the
divorce.
“Anna, I’ll do whatever you want. But let me
take care of you during the waiting period,
okay? You just had a miscarriage. I’m worried about you.”
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We filed the paperwork. He took me home and
took care of me, taking time off work to do so.