4

When the test results came back, Dr. Laura Hayes glanced up at me.

"Seven weeks pregnant."

Adrian used to hold me and talk about having a baby once we moved into our new home.

Laura frowned and said, "You're bleeding, and your progesterone is low. You're at risk of miscarriage. We need to admit you immediately."

The nurse asked, "Do you have any family here with you?"

I gave them Adrian's number anyway.

Half an hour later, he rushed into the emergency room.

He saw the results and froze.

"You're pregnant?"

He reached for my stomach but stopped halfway.

Then he crouched in front of me and took my hands.

"Evelyn, we're having a baby."

His eyes turned red.

"And I treated you like that. I'm an asshole."

I could tell he meant it.

But I also knew all it would take was one call from Nina to pull him away.

The nurse brought over the admission form.

Adrian was about to go pay when his phone rang.

It was Nina.

He declined the call.

It rang again. He declined it again.

The third call came from Mom.

He answered, and his face changed.

"I'm on my way."

He hung up and said, "Nina locked herself in the bedroom. She's got a bottle of sleeping pills. She hasn't taken any yet. She says she can't breathe in there because it was supposed to be our room."

She was crying in the bedroom I had decorated with my own hands.

And Adrian was already desperate to leave.

"Evelyn, let me check on her. I won't be long."

Laura cut in.

"Evelyn can't leave, and she shouldn't be alone for long. If the bleeding gets worse, things could get dangerous very quickly."

Adrian nodded. "I understand."

Then he put the admission form back into my hands.

"Go get checked in. I'll be back in half an hour."

I looked at him.

"And if something happens to me or the baby in that half hour?"

He hesitated.

But then Nina's hoarse crying came through the phone again. "Adrian, I'm so scared."

I reminded him. "The doctor just said I could be in danger."

Adrian's patience began to wear thin.

"You're already at the hospital. You're surrounded by doctors and nurses. Nina has no one with her, and I'm the only person she'll listen to."

I looked down at my stomach.

"And the baby?"

Adrian was silent for a second.

"The baby's still inside you. It's not going anywhere."

"Adrian, if you walk out that door, I won't wait for you again."

Panic flashed across his face, but not enough to change his mind.

"Come on. Don't say things like that. When I get back, you can yell at me. Hit me all you want."

He bent down and kissed my forehead.

Then he grabbed his coat and ran off to another woman.

The moment the door shut, a sharp pain tore through my lower stomach.

I pushed myself out of the chair and reached for the call button. The chair scraped across the floor as another cramp hit me. Then I felt something warm running down my leg.

Blood.

I opened my mouth to call for help, but everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

The nurse saw my hand move to my stomach, and her eyes softened.

"Don't move around."

My throat was dry, but I managed to speak. "The baby?"

She didn't answer right away.

"You lost too much blood. We couldn't save the baby."

I looked at the ceiling and didn't cry.

Whatever was left between Adrian and me died with our baby.

The surgical consent form lay on the bedside table.

My signature was on the line meant for a family member.

Evelyn Whitmore.

There had been no one else.

Near dawn, Adrian finally called.

I didn't pick up.

Helen Brooks, the director of the overseas project, messaged me.

"Ms. Whitmore, the on-site assignment closes tonight. If you confirm, we'll book your flight tomorrow morning."

Six months earlier, I had turned down that offer because Adrian said we would start a family of our own.

I replied, "Confirmed."

Laura wanted me to stay another two days for observation.

I refused.

She looked at me for a long moment, then had me sign a waiver. She packed my medication and follow-up paperwork into a bag.

No one came to pick me up when I was discharged.

I folded the test results, the surgical record, and the admission form I never used and slipped them into my passport holder.

On the way to the airport, Adrian called me twenty-seven times.

Before boarding, he sent me a message.

"Evelyn, Nina is fine now. Where are you? I'll come get you."

I turned off my phone.

As the plane climbed into the clouds, the city lights disappeared below me.

I thought I would cry.

But all I did was rest a hand on my now-empty stomach.

There was nothing there anymore.

Eleven hours later, the plane landed.

My phone connected to the network, and countless missed calls filled the screen.