The crash must’ve been loud. Julius came running out, water dripping from his hair, his expression tight.
Before I could even breathe, Violet dropped to the floor like she was the victim.
She wailed loudly, “Lara, I’ve always respected you! I came to help you clean because you’re pregnant! Why did you try to hit me?”
She pointed at me like she was terrified and cried. “Why did you throw yourself down the stairs? Are you trying to accuse me of something? I didn’t push you! Julius, I swear, I didn’t touch her! Why is she doing this to me?”
Violet suddenly looked back like she had just noticed Julius standing there. Her voice turned soft and shaky right away. “I’m okay, Julius… don’t worry about me. Just check on Lara. She… she fell by accident.”
She even made her lower lip tremble a little.
Julius’s eyes flicked to the red marks on her skin, and something ugly; guilt, fear, and possession crossed his face. He ripped his coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders like she was made of glass.
“Violet, did you get hurt? I’ll take you to the hospital right now.”
“I’m… I'm fine,” she whispered. “My leg just hurts a bit. But… Lara’s injury looks worse…”
The moment she said that, Julius’s whole expression changed. He turned to me with that cold mafia stare that always meant punishment.
“Get up,” he snapped. “I heard everything. Violet was trying to help you, and you repay her like this? Ungrateful bitch!”
I was still on the floor, dizzy, my stomach twisting so bad I couldn’t breathe right. I tried to force out the truth, my lips shaking. “No… I didn’t… she pushed me—”
Julius cut me off before I could finish.
“Stop acting!” he barked. “You think I’m stupid enough to believe your little victim story? Violet can’t even open a bottle without asking for help. There’s no way she pushed you. She’s too gentle. Too kind. Why would she hurt you?”
His voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone he usually used in the warehouse when someone crossed him.
“When did ‘you’ fucking become this kind of woman, Lara? Twisting things. Lying. Vicious.”
He didn’t even wait for my answer. He just scooped Violet into his arms and started carrying her downstairs like some damn princess.
As he passed me, he kicked me aside hard like I was blocking his path. “Stay there if you want. Don’t get in my way.”
Violet peeked over his shoulder, gave me a tiny smirk, and tightened her arms around his neck then I heard the front door slam. Next the car engine. Then silence.
For a second, I really thought I’d pass out on the stairs. But I couldn’t. Even the maids were only watching me.
My stomach was cramping so sharply it felt something inside me was tearing apart. Julius wouldn’t come back for me. And if I stayed there, I’d bleed out like a stray dog in his stairwell.
I forced myself to breathe, clung to the railing, and pulled myself up. Walking was torture, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even dare call a taxi. What if something… spilled out of me on the way? What if the driver threw me out?
So I walked. Bent over, holding my stomach, every step a knife.
By the time I stumbled inside the nearest hospital, my whole lower half was soaked in blood. The nurse on duty gasped and rushed me in right away.
The doctor pulled up my file and sighed like he already knew the ending. “The baby is only five weeks old,” he said. “A puncture this early… of course the uterus contracted. And you fell down the stairs too? The pregnancy won’t survive this.”
He checked me again and his face hardened.
“You’re lucky you even made it here. You were bleeding out. Another hour and you would’ve died.”
I let out a long breath; relief, not sorrow.
Then I laughed a little. Quiet. Broken.
“Doctor… please give me an abortion. Now.”
His brows lifted, surprised.
But I wasn’t. The moment I learned the truth about the triplets used me… about everything… the thing inside me felt like poison, not a child.
Losing it wasn’t a tragedy. It was freedom. This baby wasn’t a blessing… It was a nightmare.
And I was finally waking up.
…
I got home the next day. I already knew Julius and Violet wouldn’t be there. The second I walked in, the place reeked. Sheets twisted, clothes everywhere. They didn’t even bother cleaning up after their little celebration.
I stepped around the mess, stomach turning, and went straight to the bathroom. I showered once… twice… I lost count after the fifth time. But that smell wouldn’t leave me. Men. Sweat. Sex. Blood.
And somewhere in all of it… the faint scent of the baby I didn’t get to keep.
I scrubbed until my skin hurt. Still felt dirty. Still felt wrong. Finally I just snapped. I grabbed whatever I could reach and smashed it against the floor.
Perfume bottles, shampoo, the damn mirror.
Then I slid down into the tub and cried like I was choking on my own lungs.
After a while, when the crying stopped hurting, I thought about my parents.
They were so happy for me when Julius proposed.
I was happy too… stupidly happy. I picked every piece of my dowry myself. My parents paid for all of it.
Mom only added one thing… a brown file bag.
On my wedding day, she pulled me aside and handed it to me.
“Lara,” she said softly, “I know this marriage isn’t built on love. But your father and I still want you to be happy. If one day you’re not… just come home. We’re still here. You’ll always have us.”
Then she touched my cheek. “But I hope that day never comes.”
I looked around at the wreck of my life. The stains on the sheets. The bruises on my arms. The empty house that used to feel like a dream.
And I realized… that day had already come.
