By now, I already knew.
In his heart, she would always come first.
On my way back from the restroom, I spotted Mark and Effie in the stairwell landing.
She was crying hard, her reddened eyes fixed on him with pitiful desperation.
"Mark, does Noreen still blame me?"
He was silent for a few seconds, then pulled back the hand he'd been about to reach out.
"Effie, what you and Jesse did back then was truly unforgivable."
"You could've told her the truth. Instead, you two ran off together while she was pregnant."
"Do you know Noreen nearly didn't make it off the operating table? You two……"
Effie's sobs grew louder, and Mark didn't finish.
However long she cried, he stood right beside her. It never once crossed his mind whether I'd already come back.
Her breathing slowly steadied. Mark handed her a tissue and sighed.
"Effie, after you attend our wedding, I don't want you or Jesse showing up again. It's too cruel to Noreen."
The fire door swung shut. They left.
I leaned against the cold wall, hollowed out from the inside.
Mark knew everything, and still he chose to be the one carving out my heart.
In front of Effie he put on a show of defending me, yet he couldn't stop himself from being gentle with her.
Compared to what Jesse and Effie had done, everything Mark did was crueler.
His eyes, his words, his every gesture were a blade, etching themselves into my heart stroke by stroke, deep and heavy, until the cuts bled.
By the time I returned to the table, all the dishes had been served.
Mark looked up the moment he saw me, his face tight with worry.
"Noreen, you were gone so long. Are you feeling okay?"
I shook my head. He slid my favorite dishes closer to me.
An awkward silence settled over the table. Effie glanced at me, then smiled and asked：
"Noreen, how's your recovery going? Have the complications from the hemorrhage cleared up?"
The words hit me like a fist. My fingers clenched around my silverware and my chest seized, panic flooding in before I could stop it.
That baby who never got to be born was still my deepest wound. For years, everyone around me had carefully avoided the subject. I'd avoided it myself.
Effie bringing it up so bluntly was a direct, brutal blow.
The silverware slipped from my hands. I pressed my palm over my chest and gasped for air, one ragged breath after another.
Before I could say a word, Mark was already pulling me to my feet. He turned to Effie, his expression cold for the first time, his voice sharp for the first time.
"Enough!"
"I don't know what you're really after by coming back, but if you keep disrespecting my wife, then don't bother showing up to our wedding."
He swept me into his arms and walked out without another word.
"Mark, that's not what I meant!"
His steps faltered for a beat. He didn't turn around.
Back in the car, Mark ran his hand over the top of my head, slow and soothing.
"It's okay, Noreen. Don't be scared. I'm right here. It's all over now."
When we got home, he warmed a glass of milk for me, held me in his arms, and coaxed me to sleep.
I drifted off in a haze, only to be jolted awake in the middle of the night by a crack of thunder.
The room was pitch black. I was alone.
Mark was gone.
I checked my phone. No messages from him. I called several times. Every call went to a busy signal.
He had never disappeared without a word before.
Rain lashed against the window. Terrified something had happened to him, I called every friend of his I could think of.
Reg Gilbert's voice came through low and halting, barely above a whisper.
"Noreen, Mark's at the hospital. We all are."
