Love Like Snow on Fingertips

After five years of IVF and seven months of pregnancy, Lucy went into premature labor. She was hemorrhaging, her life hanging by a thread.

The husband who had always professed to love her to the bone was nowhere to be found. Neither was the college girl he had kept on standby as her emergency blood donor.

She wanted to scream his name, to demand an answer, but another contraction seized her—a tearing agony that threatened to split her body apart.

"Ryan... Where's Ryan?"

Watching her sister's face blanch with pain, Amy wept as she dialled her brother-in-law’s number thirty-two times. Each call was met only by the desperate, endless tone of a busy signal.

"The mother has a rare blood type! We're running out!"

"Her blood pressure's still dropping!"

"Didn't Mr. Ryan arrange a backup donor? Where is she?!"

Faced with the doctor's furious shouts, Amy trembled, tears streaming down her face. "My brother-in-law's phone... it's switched off."

Before she could say more, another violent contraction twisted Lucy's abdomen.

Before her consciousness faded, Lucy cast one last glance toward the operating room door.

Ryan still hadn't come.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she finally woke in the hospital bed.

Her hand moved to her flat, empty stomach, and a wave of crushing dread and grief washed over her.

"The baby..."

Struggling to sit up, she searched for her child, but saw only her red-eyed sister.

"Lucy... I thought you'd never wake up..."

"The baby... where's my baby?!" Her voice was a frail thread as she clutched Amy's sleeve, tears brimming.

"The doctors said they couldn't save her... It was too dangerous. If they hadn't performed the C-section, you wouldn't have made it..."

"Where's Ryan?"

Amy's expression darkened. "I've been here for three days and nights. He hasn't come."

Her sister's words made Lucy's world spin. The heartache hit like a physical blow, threatening to drag her back into the darkness.

Her precious baby, nurtured for seven months and filled with so many hopes and dreams, had never even opened her eyes to see this world.

This was the child Ryan had longed for day and night. Yet now, as the father, he hadn't bothered to see them even once.

Gasping for air, Lucy dialled Ryan's number again.

This time, his assistant answered.

"Where is Ryan?"

Faced with her demand, the assistant hesitated. "Mr. Ryan... is busy."

The man's evasive tone sent a chill straight through Lucy's heart.

"Tell Ryan to come to the hospital. Now."

Wiping her tears, she hung up with a sharp click.

With Amy's support, Lucy finally went to the morgue to see that tiny, cold form.

Her baby, the one she couldn't protect. A little girl. Lucy bent, breathing warm air onto the child's icy little hand.

"Sweetheart, Mommy's taking you home."

Cradling her daughter, Lucy walked with purpose to a specific address—the apartment where Ryan kept the college girl, Ruth.

She wanted Ryan to see their child one last time.

But as she reached the door, she saw him through the gap, soothing a sobbing girl in his arms, his voice gentle as water.

"Shh, it's alright. Don't cry."

"If you're scared, we won't go. Okay?"

Tears streaked Ruth's face, her eyes red-rimmed. "I wanted to go... I was just too afraid..."

"Be good, Ruth. Don't be scared. We just won't go."

Lucy stood outside the door. It felt like a thousand blades were being driven into her heart, the pain so sharp she could barely breathe.

While she had been balanced between life and death, the man she loved was here, comforting another, younger girl.

The Ryan who had once risked his life for her had finally changed.

He had, after all, risked his life for her three times.

At eighteen, he had shielded her in earthquake rubble for three days and nights, giving her the chance to be rescued first while he nearly died.

At twenty-one, he had charged alone into a kidnapper's den for her, taking three bullets. The last one had missed his heart by a single millimetre; he'd fought for his life in the hospital for seven days and nights.

At twenty-five, when everyone opposed their marriage, Ryan had willingly endured his family's punishment—five broken ribs—just to force them all to accept Lucy.

After their wedding, Lucy had basked in that hard-won happiness. So when Ryan said he wanted a child, despite her extreme difficulty conceiving, she pushed her body to its limits. Countless rounds of IVF later, she finally became pregnant.

Once she was pregnant, he became even more devoted. Not only that, Ryan had found a college girl with Lucy's rare blood type and installed her in an apartment, a ready supply of emergency blood for when Lucy gave birth.

Lucy had questioned it once, but his smile had dispelled her doubts.

"Even with a baby on the way, you're still my little jealous one?"

"Don't overthink it. She's just insurance, for your safety. I want you and our baby to come through this safely."

Lucy had believed him.

And so her child had died.

Lucy didn't speak. She just tightened her arms around the cold bundle, turned, and went to the funeral home.

Only after watching her daughter laid to rest did Lucy dial a long-unused number.

"Ralph, it's been a while."

"Would the opera company still have me?"

A pause on the other end, then a warm, hearty laugh. "Of course! The White Swan Opera Company will always welcome you back, my dear leading lady."

Her voice caught. "Thank you, Ralph."

After settling her return, she contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers and began the process of transferring her assets.

"Your relevant assets will be fully transferred no later than one week after the agreement takes effect."

Lucy gazed at the small headstone. Buried beneath it wasn't just her child, but her own heart—the one that had once loved that man.

After three years of marriage, Lucy had finally woken from the dream.

Perhaps it was time to leave.