When I woke up, I was lying on the lounge sofa.
A sharp ache twisted in my lower abdomen, and my throat was so raw I couldn’t utter a word.
Miguel sat by my side, gently wiping the cold sweat from my forehead. His eyes were filled with guilt and worry.
“Baby, does anything else hurt? Why did you suddenly collapse? You scared me and Saoirse too…”
Before he could finish, the door swung open.
Saoirse walked in with a cup of warm water in hand.
“I’m sorry, Sis. It was my fault. Please drink this… and rest.”
She knelt beside me, pitifully lifting the cup to my lips.
“Don’t be angry with me, okay?”
I turned my head away, refusing to acknowledge her.
The cup slipped from her hands, and scalding hot water splashed across my shoulder.
Miguel rushed forward to catch her as she stumbled. A flicker of anger shot through his eyes.
“Belle, she’s your sister! How could you treat her like that?”
Then he scooped Saoirse into his arms and strode out.
“I’ll rinse it with cold water right away, or it’ll leave a scar.”
Watching their backs as they disappeared, I suddenly laughed.
If he had only looked closer, he would’ve seen the truth: most of the water had splashed onto my shoulder.
It was red and raw, already blistering.
I laughed until tears blurred my vision.
But at least now, I had made up my mind to stop loving him.
So, it didn’t hurt quite as much anymore.
After a while, I dragged my weakened body up and prepared to hail a taxi to the hospital.
“Belle, wait.”
Director Evan stopped me. “When are you going to tell Miguel you’re leaving?”
I paused. “In five days. After our sixth anniversary.”
At the hospital, I gritted through the pain to register and queued outside radiology.
Suddenly, my phone rang, it was Miguel’s driver, his voice urgent.
“Belle, please come quickly. Brother Miguel’s drunk again!”
If the paparazzi caught him like that, tomorrow’s endorsement banquet would be finished.
I clenched my jaw and tossed the registration slip aside.
Outside the KTV entrance, Saoirse leaned against the wall, a cigarette between her fingers, eyes clouded in smoke.
I froze at the sight. This was a side of her I’d never seen. “You… does Miguel know you’re like this?”
Saoirse blew a lazy smoke ring in my direction, her tone full of mockery. “Mind your own business.”
“Want to tell Miguel about this? Go ahead. He won’t believe you anyway.”
She seemed to revel in the sound of my dry coughing.
“Believe it or not, the moment I open my mouth, he’ll never choose you.”
Just then, the door creaked open, and a drunken Miguel staggered out.
I instinctively reached out to steady him, but he walked right past me and fell into Saoirse’s arms instead.
“Saoirse, you came to get me.”
She shot me a triumphant smile as she helped him away, slow and sweet. Miguel didn’t spare me a single glance.
I stood there like air, completely invisible.
A sharp pain twisted in my chest, so tight it stole the breath from my lungs.
Before I could move, a few rough-looking men stepped in my path. “Where’d this little chick come from? Come keep us company.”
I turned to leave, but they blocked me again. “Wanna go? Then finish this crate first.”
My body had long been weak, and tonight, I had no strength left to resist. I could only drag the crate over, open bottle after bottle, and force it all down.
Each swallow burned like glass shards down my throat.
The metallic taste of blood rose in my throat. I stumbled to the wall, leaned against it, and retched violently.
Barely holding myself upright, I staggered into the restroom. My stomach burned like fire, my head spinning uncontrollably.
With a trembling hand, I clung to a final sliver of hope and dialed Miguel’s number.
As expected, a busy tone answered me.
Tears streamed down my cheeks without warning.
Belle, you should’ve known long ago that man no longer loved you.
…
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.
The sharp scent of disinfectant stung my nose and blurred my vision.
“Miss Belle, you’re awake.”
The doctor’s voice was firm, almost emotionless.
“I regret to inform you we couldn’t save your baby.”
“What…”
My voice was barely audible. I stared at him blankly, then lowered my gaze to my abdomen.
“There… was a baby?”
I hadn’t even known it existed.
I never heard its heartbeat. Never felt it move. Before I could even learn to love it, it was already gone.
My phone chimed. I grabbed it instantly. I wanted to tell Miguel. I needed to tell him.
But the screen lit up with a video from Saoirse.
In it, she stood close beside Miguel, holding up tiny baby clothes.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “One pink, one blue… it’s so hard to choose.”
Miguel stood slightly turned from the camera, his expression unreadable. His voice, however, was soft and coaxing.
“Then take both.”
That one sentence snapped the final thread holding me together.
I broke down.
Tears fell like shattered pearls, streaming endlessly down my face.
That same afternoon, Miguel finally heard the news from Lori and rushed to the hospital.
The doctor’s disapproving gaze landed squarely on him, this man who claimed to be the father.
“Your wife lost the baby, and you didn’t even know?”
