Flowers for My Grave

As I emerged from the hospital doors, I carefully tucked the prenatal checkup slip into my bag. My hand instinctively rose to caress my small belly, and I couldn’t suppress the joy swelling within.

The doctor's words still echoed in my ears: “Congratulations, Mrs. West! You’re pregnant!”

After a year of marriage to Lucas West, I had finally conceived.

Passing by a flower shop, I paused, realizing today deserved to be celebrated.

I decided to buy a bouquet for myself.

I put on my mask and selected flowers with minimal pollen, instructing the clerk to wrap them securely before I cradled them as I made my way home.

Due to my asthma, flowers had never adorned our home.

Lucas had never gifted me any, perhaps because it was not a love marriage.

If it weren’t for the financial troubles at Lucas's company, I doubted he would have married me at all.

However, over the past year, I sensed a gradual shift in Lucas's attitude toward me. Now that I was pregnant, I believed he would treat me with more care.

A smile broke across my face at the thought, and I imagined Lucas's expression upon seeing the prenatal slip.

I changed into fresh clothes and settled onto the sofa to wait for his return, my heart racing with anticipation.

In my boredom, I leaned over the balcony to tend to a flowerpot and remembered the bouquet in the bedroom.

I hurried to retrieve it, eager to present it to Lucas as soon as he walked in.

However, I lost my grip, and in an instant, the flowers tumbled off the coffee table, scattering across the floor in a disarray of petals.

Flustered, I rushed to gather them, completely forgetting that I was allergic to the pollen.

“Achoo!”

Realizing my mistake, I stepped back quickly, covering my mouth and nose, and dashed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

Remembering that I carried a child within me sent a shiver of unease through me.

I decided to head upstairs to take a couple of my medications in advance. But when I opened the drawer, I found the pill bottle empty.

I searched high and low for a good while, only to recall that I had run out during my last bout of illness.

It had been so long since I’d suffered an attack that I’d completely forgotten to restock my supply.

My breathing quickened in my panic, and I swiftly dialed Lucas's number.

He should be on his way home now, just in time to pick up what I needed.

When the call connected, his warm voice filled my ears. “What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath. “Lucas, we’re out of my medication at home. Are you on your way back? Could you pick up a new supply? The kind I usually take.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Okay, I understand.”

As I sensed that the call was about to end, I added, “Please come home soon. I have something very important to tell you.”

“Sure.”

After hanging up, I felt more at ease and slowly returned to the sofa to wait.

However, as a heavy pressure settled in my chest, my breathing became labored, and my cough intensified.

This familiar sensation…

Why did my asthma have to flare up now?

I struggled to reach for my phone again. I tried calling Lucas’s number, but to my dismay, he didn’t pick up.

I wondered if he was driving and so was unable to answer, so I waited a moment before calling again.

This time, it rang for what felt like an eternity before he finally picked up.