The moment Jake left my hospital room, I knew exactly where he was going. He said something before he left the room.
"I need to head back to work, sweetheart," he had said, kissing my forehead like the devoted husband he pretended to be. But I knew better. He wasn’t going back to the office. He was going straight to Clarissa to inform her about the baby. That my baby is already gone.
My fingers curled into the hospital sheets, my heart a tangled mess of sorrow and fury. My baby. My innocent child. I would not let them turn this one into another specimen, another cruel experiment.
I asked the nurse to call for the doctor. Summoning the doctor, I forced a weak, teary-eyed smile. "I don’t want to see my baby in a pitiful state. I want my baby cremated immediately."
The doctor hesitated, his expression careful. "Your husband asked for the baby to be preserved. He wanted time to decide—"
"I don’t care what he wants," I interrupted, my voice quiet but firm. "This is my child. I want them at peace, I want them to be free and be reborn as a healthy baby even if it’s not me."
The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Are you sure?"
I nodded, my hands trembling. "Yes. Please… don’t let him take my baby away from me."
After a long pause, maybe she felt my desire, the doctor finally relented. "It will be done within the hour. You will receive the ashes soon."
Relief washed over me. I had won. This time, I wouldn’t let Jake and Clarissa have their way. By the time Jake returned hours later, I was already clutching the small urn in my hands.
"Lindsay," he murmured, his voice dripping with fake tenderness. He sat beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You should rest. I’ll take care of everything—including our baby."
I held the urn tighter. "It’s already done."
His expression darkened slightly. "What do you mean?"
I forced a wobbly, grief-stricken smile. "I had the baby cremated immediately. I couldn’t bear the thought of them being trapped in a cold room."
A flicker of shock crossed his face, quickly replaced by anger. "Why would you do that without telling me?"
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Why does it matter? I just want her to have peace. Why are you getting angry?"
Jake clenched his jaw in frustration and sighed in defeat. "I just… wanted to mourn."
Mourn? I almost laughed. Jake had never mourned our children. Not even once. That had been my burden alone. He would say it will be alright and they will try it again. It’s sickening.
"It’s done, Jake," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "Let’s not talk about it anymore."
He sighed, his frustration barely concealed. Then, as if switching masks, he smiled. "Get ready. We’re going out tonight."
I blinked. "Where?"
"Clarissa’s mother’s birthday party."
The words sent a shiver of bitter memories through me. I knew exactly what would happen at that party. The venue was lavish, filled with laughter and expensive perfume. And just as I had expected, I became the evening’s entertainment—for all the wrong reasons.
Jake’s mother, Eleanor Lawson, wasted no time in making her snide remarks.
"Lindsay, dear, you look so pale. Are you still playing pretend with that ‘weak constitution’ of yours?" she sneered, taking a delicate sip of wine. She knew about me as Jake’s secretary.
I smiled politely. "It must be my diet, Mrs. Lawson. Also, I'm still recovering from the operation."
Her expression soured. Before she could retort, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Mrs. Lawson, that’s enough."
Harry Clinton. Jake’s closest friend, yet the only one who had ever defended me. He stood beside me, his sharp blue eyes cool with disapproval.
"Lindsay just lost her child. Maybe some compassion would suit you better."
Eleanor huffed, clearly displeased. "You always did have a soft spot for her, Harry. It’s almost embarrassing. A woman who keeps on having babies despite not being married? Do you not feel anything, like disgust?"
“No, I wouldn’t feel anything but maybe you should try talking to your son about those ‘babies’ you’ve been talking about,” Harry coldly said and take a glance at me.
Normally, I would have ignored him. I used to push Harry away, snapping at him whenever he tried to stand up for me. But tonight, I simply looked at him and whispered, "Thank you."
Harry’s brows lifted slightly, as if startled by my gratitude. I turned away, no longer interested in playing the perfect, submissive wife.
I excused myself and went to the balcony of the place. The balcony was quiet, the cool night air a welcome relief. I leaned against the railing, staring at the dark sky.
I felt someone come to me. "You should leave him." It’s Harry.
I exhaled slowly. "And where should I go?"
"Anywhere," he said simply. "Anywhere that isn’t here."
I turned to face him. His gaze was steady, filled with something I didn’t recognize.
"You don’t deserve this life, Lindsay." His voice was quiet, but firm. "You’re not a prisoner. You can walk away."
I let out a soft, bitter laugh. "You make it sound so easy."
"It is easy," he murmured. "If you want it badly enough."
His words settled deep inside me. Did I want it badly enough? And For the first time in seven years, I realized—Yes. I did.
