Never Too Late to Change My Mind

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a deep sigh.

"Alright. All is fine as long as you're coming back. I'll be waiting for you at home."

Hearing Dad's voice, I held back the ache in my heart and hung up the phone.

After ending the call, I placed a hand on my flat stomach as tears spilled down my face.

The doctor told me that the baby had just started forming. If I'd come any earlier, there might have been a chance…

"I'm sorry, baby. I failed to protect you. I'm so sorry…" I muttered, crying so hard that I could barely breathe.

A young nurse on her rounds opened the door and stepped in. She seemed used to such situations but still ended up feeling moved.

"A miscarriage is a big deal. Why are you here alone? Where's your husband? Why isn't he here with you?" There was evident concern in her voice.

I'd just gone through a miscarriage and was lying in a hospital bed. Yet, the only person who cared about me was a nurse I'd never met. Meanwhile, my husband was probably waking up in another woman's arms.

My sobs slowly stopped, and I bitterly murmured, "He's dead…"

The nurse looked apologetic. Her gaze filled with newfound sympathy.

I ended up ignoring the doctor's advice and insisted on getting discharged. As I scanned the miscarriage report, my body trembled.

How had my baby turned into just a piece of report? This pain shouldn't be mine to bear alone.

When I returned home, the house was empty. As expected, Connor Lockwood hadn't returned home last night.

He and a woman spent the night together. No one would believe that nothing had happened between them.

In the past, I would have bombarded him with phone calls. Now, I just felt so tired.

My phone rang with a call from Connor.

As soon as I answered, his concerned voice came through. "Wynn, are you okay? Something happened to Quinn. She drank too much last night, and now she has a fever. I'm taking her to the hospital now…"

After he spoke, I calmly replied, "You two were together last night."

My voice was steady. It was a statement of fact rather than a question.

There was a brief silence followed by Connor's irritated and defensive roar. "Wynn Carrington! Why do you have such a filthy mind? Quinn is my client. Since she got drunk, isn't taking care of her the right thing to do?

"Quinn is right here with me. She's been devastated since her divorce, and now she's sick. Can't you stop with your dirty thoughts for once and not make her upset?"

Listening to Connor fuss over another woman, I asked, "When you left me behind yesterday, did it ever cross your mind that I wasn't well either?"

He fell silent at my words. Then, he snapped impatiently, "You were at the hospital. What could possibly happen to you? Stop making a fuss and apologize to Quinn so we can move past this."

Hearing his words, I laughed.

Connor mistook my laughter for subsided anger and said, "Good. I'll find a time to take her out for dinner. You can apologize to her then."

After hanging up, I blocked Connor's number and booked the earliest flight for three days later.

…

Connor and I went to the same college. We dated for three years and were married for another three. We had barely reached the seven-year itch, yet our marriage was already falling apart.

All our fights revolved around Quinn Hoover.

On our wedding anniversary, Quinn needed help with plumbing, and on my birthday, she burned her hand.

Every single time, all it took was one call from her to have Connor drop everything and leave.

Even when I lost our baby, he failed to fulfill his duty as a husband and a father…