Bad News

CLAIRE 

The hospital room was white, everything was white. I stared at the ceiling, my hand resting on my flat stomach. The door opened. I didn't turn my head. Didn't care who it was.

"Miss Whitmore?"

A woman's voice, calm and gentle.

I finally looked. A doctor stood at the foot of my bed, clipboard in hand. She was middle-aged, with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a neat bun. Her name tag read Dr. Sarah Martin.

"I'm Dr. Martin," she said softly, stepping closer. "I was the one who treated you when you came in. How are you feeling?"

How was I feeling? I almost laughed. Almost.

"Tired," I whispered.

She nodded, pulling up a chair beside my bed. She sat down slowly, like she was approaching a wounded animal.

"I need to talk to you about what happened," she said gently. "Is that okay?"

I didn't answer, just kept staring at her.

She took a breath. "When you came in, you were bleeding heavily. We did everything we could to stabilize you, but..." She paused, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Claire. You lost the baby."

I knew. I'd known the moment I felt the blood. But hearing the words out loud... Something inside me cracked.

"The trauma to your abdomen caused a placental abruption," Dr. Martin continued quietly. "That's when the placenta separates from the uterine wall. It can cause severe bleeding and... in this case, it resulted in fetal demise."

Fetal demise, such cold, clinical words for the death of my child.

"We had to perform a D&C to remove the remaining tissue and stop the bleeding," she added. "You'll need to rest for a few weeks. No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity."

I nodded numbly.

"Do you have someone who can take care of you?" Dr. Martin asked. "Family? Friends?"

I shook my head, her expression softened even more. "I'm so sorry you're going through this alone. If you need to talk to someone, a counselor, a therapist, I can arrange that for you."

"I'm fine," I lied.

She didn't believe me, I could see it in her eyes, but she didn't push.

"You'll be discharged this evening," she said, standing up. "Make sure you follow up with your primary care doctor in two weeks, and please, take care of yourself."

She squeezed my hand once, then left, and I was alone again.

***

I don't know how long I lay there, time didn't mean anything anymore, the door opened again. I turned my head, expecting another nurse or doctor. It was Ethan.

My heart lurched. For a split second, just one stupid, pathetic second... I thought he'd come to check on me. To see if I was okay... To...

Then I saw his face... cold and emotionless, and I saw what he was carrying, a manila folder.

"Hello, Claire," he said, his voice flat.

I tried to sit up, wincing at the pain in my abdomen. "Ethan..."

"Don't." He held up a hand, cutting me off. "I'm not here for a conversation."

He walked to the side of my bed and dropped the folder onto my lap. I stared at it, my hands shaking.

"Open it," he said.

I did. Divorce papers.

The words blurred together, but I saw his signature at the bottom, already signed.

"You..." My voice cracked. "You want a divorce."

"Want? No." He crossed his arms, looking down at me like I was nothing. "It's necessary. You breached the contract."

"I didn't..."

"Adultery is grounds for immediate termination of the marriage contract," he continued, speaking over me. "Section 7, Clause 3. You can read it yourself if you'd like. I've highlighted it for you."

I flipped through the pages with trembling fingers until I found it.

*In the event that either party engages in adultery or any form of infidelity, the wronged party may terminate this agreement immediately without financial penalty.*

My stomach twisted.

"I didn't cheat on you," I whispered. "Those photos are fake. Someone set me up. Please, Ethan, you have to believe me..."

"I don't have to do anything." His voice was ice. "You cheated. I have proof, the contract is void."

"The baby..." My voice broke. "The baby was yours. We could've done a test. I begged you..."

"There is no baby anymore." He said it so casually. Like he was talking about the weather. "So it doesn't matter."

The cruelty of it stole my breath. I stared at him, this man I'd loved for four years, and I didn't recognize him.

"How can you be so cold?" I choked out. "I lost our baby. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It wasn't my baby," he said flatly. "It was his. Julian's. And now it's gone, which saves everyone a lot of trouble."

Tears streamed down my face. "I never touched Julian. I never..."

"Sign the papers, Claire."

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I said no." I shoved the folder back at him. "I'm not signing anything until you listen to me. Until you..."

"Fine." He pulled out his phone. "Then I'll make sure the photos go public. Not just to our families, to everyone. Your face will be all over the internet, every news outlet, every gossip site. Everyone will know exactly what kind of woman you are."

My blood ran cold.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me." His thumb hovered over his screen. "Sign the papers, or I'll destroy what's left of your reputation. You'll never be able to show your face in this city again."

I stared at him, my whole body shaking.

This wasn't the man I'd married, the man who'd smiled at me over coffee. Who'd said thank you when I made him dinner. Who'd stood beside me at that gala and said she's with me. Or maybe it was.

Maybe this had always been who he was, and I'd just been too blind to see it.

"Why?" My voice was barely a whisper. "Why are you doing this to me?"

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. But it wasn't guilt. It wasn't regret, It was irritation.

"Because you were never supposed to matter," he said quietly. "This marriage was a business arrangement, nothing more. You knew that from the beginning."

"I thought..." My voice cracked. "I thought we were becoming something real."

"We weren't." He picked up the folder and placed it back on my lap. "Sign. Now."

I looked down at the papers, at his signature, at the blank line waiting for mine. I had nothing left.

No baby, no husband, no family, no home. Nothing. What was the point of fighting? With shaking hands, I picked up the pen he'd left on the folder.

"That's a good girl," he murmured.

I scribbled my name on the line, the pen felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. When I finished, Ethan took the papers and tucked them back into the folder.

"Thank you for making this easy," he said.

He turned to leave.

"Ethan," I called out, my voice hoarse.

He paused at the door but didn't turn around.

"I hope she was worth it," I said.

He didn't answer. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and I was alone again.

***

They discharged me that evening, just like Dr. Martin said they would.

A nurse handed me a plastic bag with my bloodstained clothes inside. I changed into the hospital scrubs they'd given me and walked out into the cold night air. It was raining now. Of course it was. I stood under the hospital awning, watching the rain pour down, and realized I had nowhere to go.

The motel, I could go back to the motel. But I didn't have money for a cab, didn't have money for anything. I started walking.

The rain soaked through the thin scrubs almost immediately. My hair stuck to my face, my body ached with every step, the pain from the procedure a dull, constant throb. But I kept walking. I didn't know where I was going, didn't care.

I just needed to move, needed to put distance between myself and that hospital, that room, that empty, white room where I'd lost everything.bThe streets were mostly empty, everyone else had the sense to stay inside, out of the rain.

I crossed an intersection, my vision blurred by rain and tears, and then I heard the squeal of tires. Bright headlights, blinding, coming straight at me. I froze. I should've moved, should've run, should've done something. But I didn't.

The car slammed into me and pain exploded through my body. I felt myself flying backward, weightless for just a second, before I hit the pavement.

The world spun, rain poured down on my face, i couldn't breathe. Somewhere, far away, I heard a car door slam open. Footsteps running toward me, splashing through puddles.

"Oh my God, no."

A man's voice, hands on my shoulders, my face, checking for injuries.

"Can you hear me? Hey, can you hear me?"

I tried to open my eyes, tried to focus, but everything was spinning. 

"I'm calling an ambulance. Just hold on. Stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes."

But I was so tired. So, so tired. My eyes drifted shut.

"No, no, no. Stay awake. Please, stay awake."

His voice cracked with desperation, but it was fading now, everything faded, and I let the darkness swallow me whole.