MARRIED FOR REVENGE

Who would’ve thought a bright, sunny day filled with laughter could turn so dark in just a moment?

Clara stood under the shade of the beach umbrella, watching the kids run around in the sand, their squeals rising over the crashing waves. Her little daughter, Claire, had been all smiles earlier, wearing her pink birthday dress and twirling like the little princess she believed she was. It was her 5th birthday party, everything seemed perfect.

Even though her husband, Ken, hadn’t shown up—not that she expected him to anymore—Clara kept her smile on. She didn’t want to ruin Claire’s day. She’d gotten used to doing it all alone.

Her eyes moved slowly across the beach. That’s when she noticed—Claire wasn’t there.

She scanned the party again. The laughter, the music, the crashing waves—they all seemed to blur into one low hum. Her chest tightened.

Then came the scream.

A sharp, bone-deep scream that made her heart stop.

The glass of wine slipped from her hand, hitting the sand with a dull thud.

And then she saw it.

Claire. On the ground near the building. Blood.

“No…” Clara stumbled forward, her feet moving before her mind could catch up.

Tears streamed down her face as she ran with all her might—ran to her daughter. The sand around her was soaked with blood. She was barely clinging to life.

Clara wasted no time. She picked her up in her arms and quickly rushed to the car, gently placing her in the back seat.

She flew to the driver’s seat, started the car, and sped to the nearest hospital. 

How could this have happened? Someone had pushed her daughter from the two-storey building—but why? Claire was a sweet, innocent, and joyful bundle of life. Who would want to hurt her?

She occasionally turned to look at her daughter. The car seat was soaked with even more blood. She looked so pale.

“Dear God,” Clara cried.

She fished her phone from her purse and quickly dialed her husband’s number, but he never picked—not even once. She dialed multiple times, but the result was the same.

She kept her phone, focusing on the drive and then she arrived at the hospital. 

Clara burst through the hospital doors, clutching Claire’s tiny body to her chest. Her arms ached, but she held on like letting go would mean losing her forever.

“Help! Please, someone help!” she cried, her voice breaking.

A nurse rushed forward with a stretcher. Clara gently laid Claire down, her hands trembling. Blood was everywhere—on the seat of the car, on Clara’s arms, on Claire’s little dress.

“She fell… from a building,” Clara managed to say as the doctors began working.

“Ma’am, please wait here,” one of them told her.

Clara’s legs gave way. She sank to the cold floor outside the emergency room, her back pressed against the wall. Her heart thudded so loud she could barely hear anything else. Her hands clutched at the thin fabric of her blouse as if holding it tight would keep her together.

Never had she thought such a happy and joyful day would take a sharp turn for the worse. Everything felt surreal and if it weren’t for the blood on her body, she’d have thought she was in one of her crazy imaginations.

The doctor came out minutes later, and Clara quickly rushed to him, demanding to know the condition of her daughter.

“I’m afraid she has lost a lot of blood, and her blood type is a very rare one that isn’t available in our blood bank right now. I’ve ordered it already, but it’s… it’s going to take some time to get here. Your daughter is in very critical condition, and she doesn’t have much time. Perhaps your blood type matches hers? Or your husband’s?” he inquired.

Clara gingerly nodded her head. “Yes, my husband’s blood type matches hers.”

“We need him right now for a blood transfusion.”

She fumbled for her phone and dialed Ken’s number.

No answer.

She called again.

Still nothing.

Clara bit down on her lip to keep herself from screaming. Her fingers were slippery with sweat and dried blood as she hit redial again and again. On the fifth try, someone picked up—but it wasn’t Ken.

“What?” a woman snapped from the other end.

Clara closed her eyes. Of course. It was one of his girlfriends. She didn’t have time to be angry.

“Please,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Let me speak to Ken. Our daughter is dying. Please.”

The woman didn’t answer right away. Clara could hear muffled voices and then, in a mocking tone, the woman called out, “Honey, your wife says it’s an emergency. Says the kid is dying.”

Clara held her breath.

Ken’s voice came through, cold and clear. “Tell her I’m busy.”

Then laughter.

The call cut.

Clara stared at the phone, her fingers frozen around it. Then it slipped and hit the floor.

For a long second, she couldn’t breathe. More tears fell from her eyes as the stinging pang of betrayal and helplessness hit her. No. She couldn’t let her daughter die. No!

Rushing into the ward, she saw that the doctors had stopped attending to her. Little Claire now lay unmoving on the bed—pale and helpless.

Her lips quivered, her eyelids brimming with more tears at the sight of her daughter in such a helpless state. “Why is no one attending to my daughter!?”

We’ve done all we can,” the doctor said gently. “She’s lost a lot of blood. We need a donor urgently. Her blood type is rare. We’ve sent for it, but we fear it may not arrive in time.”

Clara refused to accept the words they were saying. Claire, her poor daughter, didn’t deserve this. She sat next to her daughter, holding her small hand in hers.

“Claire,” she sobbed. “Mummy’s here, please wake up.”

Her heart ached—no, it felt like it was being ripped out of her chest, watching her only child in such a pitiful state, unable to do anything. Her hands numb, her breaths ragged as her throat tightened.

Suddenly, Claire’s eyes flew open, and she began gasping for breath. She became calm upon seeing her mother next to her.

“My baby,” Clara cried, gently squeezing her small but now hand.

“Mama,” her voice came out faint and weak, as she was barely clinging to life.

Clara couldn’t control the endless tears as Claire squeezed her hand, as if she were her last hope of life.

Clara screamed for help, begged them to do something— anything— but the doctors only stood frozen, powerless. Time felt it had stopped and suddenly, she felt Claire’s hold on her begin to loosen. The loud beeping sound from her heart monitor pierced through her ear. Her hand fell limp on the bed, her heart monitor going flat immediately.