On our tenth anniversary, I, Evelyn Powell, planned a special trip to the beach for my boyfriend, Oscar Evans, and me. I wanted it to be a celebration of our years together, something memorable.
As we drove, his phone rang. He picked it up without hesitation. It was our upstairs neighbor, Madeline Dunne. It had always been like this. I couldn’t help but glance at him, already frustrated by how much time he spent helping her with her dog.
Before I could say anything, he spoke hurriedly, “Stop the car! I need to go back and get dog food. Madeline's dog is starving to death!”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, anger boiling in my chest.
“Is she your father? Are you really going to leave a pregnant woman on the side of the road for a dog?” I angrily bombarded my boyfriend with questions.
Oscar didn’t like my tone.
He frowned and spoke impatiently, "You’re so unreasonable."
Without warning, he grabbed the steering wheel, forcing the car to swerve into the emergency lane. He slammed on the brakes, leaving me alone. All of that was just to get dog food for Madeline’s dogs.
Little did we know, I ended up getting a miscarriage because of that. I eventually left him, only to win a lottery and get a man better than him.
***
I, Evelyn Powell, drove for almost 7 hours with a heavily pregnant body. Finally, I arrived at the beach. My boyfriend, Oscar Evans, had promised me to go to the beach to celebrate our tenth anniversary. Besides, I already planned a special trip for us. So, it had to be perfect.
But the man kept playing with his phone all the way to the beach. In fact, he even fell asleep without doing much. To be honest, I was annoyed. But I couldn’t let that ruin our anniversary. Thus, I kept my cool.
As we drove, his phone rang. He picked it up without hesitation. It was our upstairs neighbor, Madeline Dunne.
Her voice was frantic as she said, “Oscar, Angie hasn’t eaten all day! She’s on a hunger strike. The dog food you bought is finished. Can you pick up another bag?”
It had always been like this. I couldn’t help but glance at him, already frustrated by how much time he spent helping her with her dog.
Before I could say anything, he spoke hurriedly, “Stop the car! I need to go back and get dog food. Madeline's dog is starving to death!”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, anger boiling in my chest.
“Is she your father? Are you really going to leave a pregnant woman on the side of the road for a dog?” I angrily bombarded my boyfriend with questions.
Oscar didn’t like my tone.
He frowned and spoke impatiently, "You’re so unreasonable."
"Get out of the car," he said coldly.
I stared at him in disbelief as I asked him, "What are you talking about?"
Instead of answering, he yanked open the door, pulled me out, and shoved me toward the side of the road until I fell as he impatiently said, "Hurry up. Just flag down a car or something. I’m taking this one to get dog food for Madeline."
Before I could protest, he got back into the car and sped off, leaving me alone on the highway. I stood there, clutching my swollen belly, feeling abandoned and betrayed.
The stress and exhaustion overwhelmed me, and a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I collapsed to the ground, crying out in agony. Blood seeped between my legs as panic set in. Struggling to stay conscious, I called an ambulance.
In the hospital, the doctor examined me with a grave expression.
“You’ve suffered a miscarriage. The baby can’t be saved, and we need to perform an emergency procedure to stop the bleeding and save your life.”
Tears streamed down my face as I thought about the baby I had been looking forward to holding in my arms. Just days ago, during my prenatal checkup, I had imagined a happy life as a mother with Oscar by my side. Now, that dream was gone.
The doctor urged me to call a family member to sign the consent form for the operation. Trembling, I dialed Oscar’s number over and over.
He finally answered, but his tone was annoyed as he said, “Evelyn, what is it? I’m busy.”
I tried to explain through sobs as I told him, “Oscar, I’m in the hospital … I-”
Before I could finish, he cut off, “Where’s the lubricant in the bedroom? I can’t find it!”
I froze at what he just said, “What do you need that for right now?”
His answer was as casual as it was cruel as he said, “For Madeline’s dog, of course. Why do you ask so many questions?”
The doctor beside me stared, stunned by what he’d just overheard. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I realized then that Oscar didn’t care about me or our unborn child.
With no one else to rely on, I signed the surgery forms myself. Lying on the cold operating table, I felt the baby being taken from me. The lifeless weight of my eight-month-old son was unbearable. He was already fully formed, with features that reminded me of Oscar.
After the procedure, I packed my baby’s tiny body, intending to show Oscar what he had missed. But he never came. Not a single call or text.
During my week-long stay in the hospital, I had plenty of time to think. Oscar’s behavior over the past months made sense now. He was always at Madeline’s, sometimes staying overnight. She would post on social media, calling him "the best neighbor," as if to taunt me.
When I got out of the hospital, I knew one thing for certain. I deserved better. There was another man who was better for me, right?
