I woke up to a world bleached of color, stark white walls, white sheets, and the sterile scent of antiseptic. My body felt heavy, hollow, an empty vessel adrift in a sea of pain. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind, and my gaze drifted to the ceiling. A faint, brownish stain marred the pristine white, a grim reminder of the blood that had flowed, the life that had been lost.
A nurse, her steps soft, entered the room. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"
I tried to answer, but my throat was raw, dry. I just managed a raspy whisper. "What… what happened?"
"You had a severe miscarriage, Ms. Delaney," she said gently, adjusting the IV drip. "You lost a lot of blood. You're lucky to be alive, actually. For a while there, we were worried." She paused, her gaze softening. "You're in a private room. We had to move some things around because the ER was so busy. Your… partner tried to come in, but we had to restrain him."
My partner. Carter. The name felt like ash on my tongue. I closed my eyes, a fresh wave of pain, emotional this time, washing over me. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to hear his name.
I lay there for what felt like an eternity, my body stiff, my mind numb. Through the window, I could see bare tree branches, heavy with fresh snow, bending under the weight. They looked as fragile as I felt, waiting for the inevitable snap.
The nurse returned, checking my vitals. "Are you from Aspen, Ms. Delaney?" she asked, her voice kindly. "Do you have family here? You don't sound like you're from around here."
I managed a weak smile, a grimace that barely touched my lips. "No. I'm not from here. And no, I don't really have family here." I paused, a sudden clarity cutting through the haze of grief. "And I don't like it here."
"Oh?" she asked, surprised.
"No," I repeated, firmer this time. "I hate the cold. I hate the snow. I hate everything about this place." A deep, unwavering resolve settled in my heart. "I'm leaving. I'm going back home." Home to Austin. To rebuild my real home.
The nurse nodded slowly, a knowing look in her eyes. She picked up an empty pill bottle from my nightstand. "Well, that's a big decision. But sometimes, a fresh start is exactly what you need." She paused at the door. "Your partner… Mr. Rodgers… he asked me to give you a message. He said he had to go help Carmen with something. Some emergency with her son, Leo. But he said he' d be back as soon as he could. He was very worried about you."
My stomach, already a knot of pain, recoiled. Carmen. Leo. Even now, even after everything, he chose them. A bitter, ironic laugh caught in my throat. I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness. Just a profound, liberating emptiness. He was no longer capable of hurting me.
My phone, miraculously unharmed, lay on the bedside table. A flurry of notifications flashed across the screen. Missed calls from Carter. Messages from Carmen. I opened her chat, my eyes scanning the words.
Carmen: "Haven, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were pregnant. Please, tell me you're okay. This is all my fault."
I deleted the message without replying. Then I opened Carter's.
Carter: "Haven, please answer me. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'll make it right, I swear. We'll get married. We'll try again for another baby. Please, just hold on. I love you."
Another baby. The words twisted the knife in the still-fresh wound. He thought my pain was just "sadness." He couldn't even comprehend the depth of the betrayal, the loss. Sadness was too shallow a word for the chasm that had opened inside me.
My fingers, surprisingly steady, flew across the screen. I deleted every single message from Carter. Then, I blocked his number. And Carmen's. And anyone else associated with them. I purged them from my digital life, a symbolic cleansing.
Then, I booked the earliest flight to Austin I could find.
With a newfound surge of adrenaline, I ripped the IV needle from my arm, a sharp pain, but nothing compared to what I'd already endured. I swung my legs off the bed, my muscles stiff and weak, but my resolve iron-clad. I gathered my few belongings, pulling on my blood-stained clothes, not caring how I looked. I had to get out. Now.
I crept past the nurses' station, my heart pounding, a desperate fugitive. The hospital corridors, once a place of fear, now represented a prison I had to escape. I pushed through the automatic doors, the cold Aspen air hitting me like a slap. I hailed a cab, giving the driver the airport address.
The snow fell softly, silently, covering the tracks of my broken past. Aspen, you were too cold. I decided right then I would never come back.
