Chapter 3

Caroline's pov

Days had passed since that nightmare in the hallway, but the pain still felt fresh.

I stood alone in the pouring rain at the small private cemetery, clutching a tiny bouquet of white flowers.

Peter didn't even get to hold the baby, he took one quick look and wheeled me back to my ward. That day hurt more than ever.

The ground was soft and muddy beneath my feet as I stared at the little grave that held my son. No one else was there. Not even my own parents or my in-laws. Just me and the rain that mixed with the tears streaming down my face.

I knelt slowly, my body still aching from the birth and the brutal bone marrow extraction, and gently placed the flowers on the fresh soil. “I’m so sorry, my sweet boy,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Your father didn’t even come to say goodbye. He chose her again… even for this.” My shoulders shook with silent sobs as I traced my fingers over the small headstone. “I wanted you so much. I fought for you. I love you.”

I stayed there until the rain soaked through my clothes, saying my final goodbye to the child I had carried for nine months.....the child Peter helped create but never wanted...He acted like the perfect sperm donor, get this was my own husband.

When I finally stood up, my legs trembled. I felt completely hollow.

~~~~~

Back at the hospital on discharge day, I sat weakly on the edge of my bed, slowly dressing myself in the loose clothes my personal house help had brought.

My body still ached, but I was physically stable enough to leave. The emptiness inside my chest, however, felt like a void that would never fill. Every movement reminded me of the tiny life I had lost far too soon.

From the moment Peter had stormed in and yanked me away from Alexander’s supportive arms, he hadn’t visited me again. He was always by Cerene’s side, tending to her every need while I recovered alone.

I wasn't a complete monster, I often felt bad at my sister's illness...But there were still things about her didn't understand. Things my parents said were beyond my understanding.

I hadn’t had a chance to see Alexander again, and deep down, I wished I could.

His kind eyes and worried voice had been the only warmth I’d felt in that cold hallway. “Where are you now, Alex?” I whispered to myself, a small complaint slipping out. “Why does everyone leave me when I need them most?”

Today was discharge day. I gathered my few belongings with trembling hands, preparing to pay the hospital bills myself. I refused to ask Peter. Seeing him would only lead to more humiliation....I knew that too well.

“I won’t beg him for anything anymore,” I muttered bitterly. “He didn’t even bother to attend our baby’s funeral. I called him several times, I sent him texts, but he called me a liar, saying I was cursing the baby and wishing death upon him. I could hear Cerene's voice over the phone as she told him I am trying to take him away from her, since he was taking such good care of her. But how could a mother fake her own child's death and burial?“

I had grown up accepting that I would never fully receive my parents’ love. Cerene’s fragile health had always come first, with every crisis pulling the attention away like a magnet. But now, everything was painfully clear. I was invisible, unwanted, and a burden.

At the front desk, I reached for my card, my heart heavy. But the nurse smiled gently and shook her head. “It’s already been taken care of, Mrs. Lockwood. Someone paid, but they asked to stay anonymous.”

I blinked in shock. “What? Who paid? Peter?”

The nurse handed me a small note. “They left this for you.”

I unfolded it with shaky fingers. The elegant handwriting read: *Get well soon. #L.*

My mind raced. “Lockwood? No… Peter wouldn’t do something kind like this. Then who? #L… who could it be?” I stood there debating with myself, confusion swirling with faint hope. “Maybe someone actually sees me. Maybe I’m not completely alone.”

As I lingered by the front desk, still lost in thought, I spotted them through the large glass doors.....Peter and Cerene stepping out into the day light. Cerene looked radiant despite her condition, leaning on Peter’s arm with that pitiful, tearful grace she always had.

For the first time I could remember in years, Peter was behind the steering wheel. He almost never drove himself; he had chauffeurs for that. But today, he personally helped Cerene into the luxurious car, his movements gentle and attentive, before sliding into the driver’s seat.

A single tear slid down my face as the car pulled away smoothly. “He drives for her… but couldn’t even care about his own son? Pathetic.”

My phone buzzed suddenly, startling me. It was a text from Peter: “Get yourself ready before 6 in the evening. The birthday celebration won’t attend itself.”

My breath hitched. He almost never texted me back, the last text he sent. He called me a liar for faking our son's funeral. We were at the same hospital and he didn't bother to check the facts.

like a blind mouse he was.

I pulled myself back to reality. I had almost forgotten my own birthday. I whispered to myself. “Or maybe this is his way of apologizing.”

I headed home, carrying the anonymous note tucked safely in my pocket. Once there, I went straight to my bedroom to freshen up, hoping to look presentable for what I believed was my night.

But as I entered, Cerene was walking out of the master bedroom shower, wrapped in one of my favorite pink towels, her blonde hair damp and her expression innocent as ever

“Cerene… what are you doing using my shower?” I asked, my voice tired but firm. “This is my space. After everything, can’t I at least have that?”

Peter walked in at that exact moment, his face darkening. “What’s this now, Caro? You’re being dramatic again. It’s no big deal. Cerene needed to freshen up after her treatment. Stop making everything about you.”

“But Peter…” I started, my complaints spilling out. “I’ve barely recovered. I lost our baby, I went through that horrible procedure because of you, and now I can’t even have privacy in my own room? I’m always the one who has to sacrifice. Always!”

Peter waved me off impatiently. “Again with this nonsense, stop cursing our baby. infact this should be the last time I hear you say that about my son.“ His chest was heaving, his nose flared with anger.

“And you’re not even ready yet,we’re already running late for Cerene's birthday celebration. Just stay home since you’re not prepared. It’s easier that way.”

I froze as the realization hit me like a slap. The birthday celebration wasn’t for me. It was for Cerene.....it all made sense now. “This is Cerene’s birthday… not mine,” I said slowly, my voice cracking. “You texted me to get ready for *her* party? After everything I’ve been through?”

Something inside me finally snapped. The endless neglect boiled over.

I shoke my head and scoffed in disbelief.

I was fighting a losing battle.

“I want a divorce, Peter. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve tried, begged and cried, but you don’t care. You never have. Let me go.”

Peter laughed coldly, a harsh sound that echoed in the room. “Shut the hell up with your drama, Caro. You think I’d divorce you? That’s an easy punishment. No… you’ll stay right here for not caring enough about Cerene or my son, Cerene told me the baby is with the nanny's. You are so full of shit. For being so selfish while she fights for her life.”

He stepped closer, his eyes hard. “If you actually manage to look decent and show up at the celebration, maybe I’ll let you sit with me. Otherwise, stay out of the way.” With that, he pushed me aside....not hard enough to hurt physically, but enough to send me stumbling back against the wall.

I watched him leave, the door slamming behind him.

I sank to the floor, clutching my tummy, tears flowing freely. “I’ve had enough,” I whispered brokenly to the empty room....And when my eyes went straight to my closet, which was slightly ajar, all my clothes were sliced through.

like someone had done it on purpose.

“I refuse to be used...I refuse to let him degrade me.“