The Unwanted Truth

The first thing Esther noticed was the sharp smell. It wasn't fragrance or the comforting scent of home; it was strong and sterile, the type of smell that lingered in her nose and burned her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered as the brightness above her pierced into her head.

 She let out a groan and lifted her trembling hand, as if her fingers alone were an obstacle to block the light.

The ceiling wasn’t familiar: White tiles and a bright bulb. The faint beep, beep, beep of a machine beside her. Her heart stuttered in confusion.

“Where am I?”

 The words scraped out, rough and dry. Her lips felt cracked, her tongue rough like sandpaper.

A sharp pain pressed against her ribs, and her chest tightened as she tried to sit up.

Panic rose in her, sharp and bitter. She wasn’t in her room. The place didn’t look like her house either.

The door creaked open. Two figures in white coats, their shoes shuffling softly on the floor as they stepped inside.

“You’re awake,” one of them said gently, a doctor with calm eyes behind thin glasses. “Mrs. Grant, can you hear me clearly?”

Esther blinked, forcing herself to focus. “Yes… I can. How long….” She swallowed hard. “How long have I stayed here?”

The doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse, as if measuring how much truth she could handle. 

Then he leaned closer.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days,” the doctor said gently. “The fall caused severe trauma and sent you into premature labor.

When you arrived, both you and your babies were in danger. We had no choice but to perform an emergency Caesarean section.”

Esther’s breath caught.

The doctor continued, “After the surgery, your blood pressure became dangerously unstable, and your body went into shock. We kept you sedated while we monitored you closely. Thankfully, you responded well to treatment.”

Three days?

The words hit her like a slap.

Before she could think of anything else, the doctor's words brought her back to reality.

The doctor’s expression softened into a smile.

“Despite everything, there’s good news. Congratulations, Mrs. Grant. You delivered healthy twins, a baby boy and a baby girl. They were born a little early, but they’re doing very well.”

“Twins?” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “My babies… where are they? Are they alright?”

“They’re safe,” the nurse reassured her warmly. “They’ve been in the neonatal unit for observation because they arrived early, but they’re both healthy. We brought them back to your room this morning.”

Her chest eased a little, at least someone cared but the ache in her heart only deepened. Three days away from them. Three days when she had no control.

The doctor scribbled something on his chart. “We’ll give you some time to gather yourself. But please, don’t stress yourself. You need peace if you’re going to recover fully.”

As they left, silence filled the room again, silence heavy enough to choke her. The door clicked shut leaving her alone with the sound of her baby's soft cry. Her chest squeezed.

She wanted to hold them but her arms felt like lead. She stared at them admiring their eyes and characteristics that had a striking resemblance to their father.

“I'll carry you soon and I'll never let anyone hurt you as your father hurt me. He has done me no good but harm.”

But before she could even breathe in relief, the door banged open. Her heart stopped and she stiffened.

Footsteps and familiar voices echoed through the hospital hallway. 

She turned her head, hope flashing, and then the hope broke into a thousand pieces.

Peter. 

Her husband or… maybe she shouldn't even call him that anymore. He looked infuriatingly perfect, tall, sharp jaw, designer suit pressed crisp. But what froze her wasn't him but the woman beside him.

Beside him was the same woman who spread out on her bed while she stood there, humiliated. 

She didn’t even look guilty. She clung to his arm as though she belonged there. Maria’s heels clicked sharply against the hospital floor, like cruel reminders with every step.

Her perfume floated in, strong and sweet, coating the sterile air with poison.

Esther’s heart splintered. Rage and humiliation surged hot through her.

Esther’s throat tightened. “Why… why is she here?” Her voice trembled, thin as glass.

Peter didn’t flinch. His expression was unreadable, cold almost. “She has every right to be here because she belongs here more than you ever did.”

Every right? The words pierced her heart deeper than knives. She wished this were a dream to be awakened by someone.

Her stomach twisted. “Is this really happening? He didn't just say that. Not here. Not in front of our children.” She said to herself bitterly 

Maria laughed softly as she had already won something, running her manicured nails along his sleeves, her painted lips curving with satisfaction.“Poor little thing. She looks so pitiful.”

Pitiful? The words stabbed her deeper than a sharp knife.

Esther wanted to scream because she had had enough of this already. She wanted to throw something but her body betrayed her.

She was weak, trembling, bound by wires and bandages. She could only stare, her eyes wet, her heart screaming louder than her voice could.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” Peter said flatly, as if she were nothing more than a burden. “I only came because I thought you should hear it directly from me.”

“Hear what?” Esther whispered, fear sliding cold down her spine.

Peter reached into his briefcase and stepped forward pulling out a white envelope containing a set of crisp papers, throwing them onto the bed like it was trash.

The air seemed to thicken. Her gaze locked on the paper, her breath shallow.

“What is that?” Her voice cracked.

“You’ll know when you open it” His tone held no warmth. Only finality.

With trembling fingers, Esther reached for it. Her hands shook so badly that she nearly dropped it, but she forced herself to tear the flap open.

The paper slid out, smooth and heavy, carrying with it the weight of an ending.

Her eyes scanned the first line 

And then her breath hitched.

Her vision blurred with tears, her fingers curling tighter around the edges of the document.