Chapter 4

[ NANCY’S POV ]

The throbbing in my head was like a hammer hitting the inside of my skull. My skin felt hot, then cold, then hot again. Every joint in my body ached, a deep, bone-weary pain that told me the storm from the other night hadn't just soaked my clothes it had settled into my marrow.

I checked the digital clock on the bedside table. 10:15 AM.

Panic flared for a second, the old habit of worrying about being late or failing to have his breakfast ready. Then, the realization hit: it didn’t matter. He wasn't here. He hadn't been here all night. I threw the duvet off, my limbs feeling heavy, like they were filled with lead.

I needed to go to the hospital. Maria had been calling me, texting me, practically begging me to go in for a check-up for the last two weeks. "You look hollowed out," she’d said. I had laughed it off then, blaming work, blaming the stress of the house. Now, standing in the middle of the room, I knew she was right. My body was finally giving up the fight.

I moved through the morning on autopilot. I brushed my teeth, threw on a sweater, and stumbled down the stairs. The house felt like a tomb. Everything was perfectly in its place: the pristine white countertops, the magazines stacked neatly on the table but it was empty.

I walked out the front door, expecting to see the empty space where my car had died in the rain. Instead, there it was. My car.

It looked clean, the tires polished, the engine humming softly as I approached. Dave must have sent his mechanic to retrieve it. I stared at the metal frame for a long moment. A tiny, foolish part of me wanted to think it was a gesture of care. He fixed it, I thought. He cares.

But I killed that thought immediately. He didn't fix it because he missed me. He fixed it so he wouldn't have to deal with the "inconvenience" of me. He wanted me mobile so I wouldn't drag him down, so I wouldn't have to call him for help again. It was a chore crossed off his list, nothing more.

I got in, the smell of his lingering cologne inside the cabin stinging my nose. I gripped the wheel, my hands still shaking slightly, and backed out of the driveway.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of gray buildings and traffic. I felt lightheaded, the world outside the windshield seeming to tilt and weave. By the time I reached the hospital parking lot, my lungs felt tight. I parked the car and sat there for a minute, staring at the sterile brick building.

I didn't want to know what the doctor would say. I was scared that if I finally let someone check me, they’d tell me what I already knew: that the sickness wasn't just in my chest. It was everywhere.

I clutched the paper in my hand. It was shaking, but not from the fever or the cold rain anymore. It was shaking because of the words printed in black ink. Positive.

I was pregnant. I was carrying Dave’s child a life born from that one night he was drunk, a night he probably didn’t even remember, a night I had pushed to the back of my mind just to survive the silence between us. I placed my hand on my stomach, rubbing it gently. It felt flat and empty, yet everything had changed. I smiled, a small, fragile thing, thinking that maybe this was the answer. Maybe this was the reason to fix everything.

I walked out into the main lobby of the hospital, the paper hidden tightly in my pocket, ready to find him and show him that we were finally going to be a family.

"Dave, I'm so happy you agreed to come with me. This headache is nearly breaking my head."

The voice stopped me in my tracks. I looked up, and my heart plummeted.

Dave and Lydia, they were standing near the clinic doors. Seeing them together in a place where I was fighting for my own health felt like cold water being dumped over my head. My joy evaporated, replaced by a crushing weight in my chest.

Lydia looked over and saw me. For a split second, her eyes went wide with genuine surprise, but she quickly masked it. She smoothed her expression into that fake, poisonous smile I had come to hate.

"I forgot my phone, Dave," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. Can you help me get it? It's inside the car.

Dave didn't even turn his head to see who she was looking at. He had no idea I was even there, standing right in his path. He just gave a distracted grunt and kept walking toward the exit

Lydia didn't waste a second. Her smile vanished the moment he was out of earshot. She stormed over to me, her face twisting into a sneer.

"Tell me, bitch. Why are you here?" she hissed, her eyes darting to my face, looking for weakness.

I felt dizzy, my head pounding, but I stood my ground. I didn't have the strength to argue, but I had the truth in my pocket. I wanted to show her the result. I wanted to tell her that no matter how much she tried to replace me, I was the one carrying his legacy.

"I’m here for my health," I whispered, my voice trembling. "And I need to see Dave. I have something to tell him."

Lydia laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "You think he wants to hear anything from you? You're pathetic."

I turned, trying to walk past her toward the exit to find him. I wasn't going to let her stop me.

"Get back here!" she shouted. She reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking me backward with surprising strength.

I was already weak and dizzy from the illness; her pull was too much. I stumbled, my feet tangling, and I nearly crashed into the floor, catching myself against the wall with a gasp. The pain in my head spiked, and the world spun.

I looked at her, blinking back tears of exhaustion and anger. "What is wrong with you, Lydia?" I managed to choke out.

"What is wrong with me?" she mocked, her eyes darkening as she stepped closer, looming over me like a predator. "What are you even doing in this part of the hospital?"

"What I’m here for is none of your concern," I gasped, trying to steady my breathing. "Now move. I need to see my husband."

She laughed, a cruel, shrill sound that echoed down the hall. "Your husband? You mean the man who only came here because I have a headache? Oh, please. Just hand that over." She lunged for the paper, her hand clawing toward me.

"No," I cried, pulling it behind my back. "This is for Dave to see. It’s not your business!"

"I said hand it over!"

She shoved me with all her weight. I didn't have the strength to fight back. My back slammed hard against the cold hospital wall, and a sharp, sickening jolt of pain shot through my entire body. I crumpled.

"What is happening here?"

Dave’s voice boomed from the hallway. Before I could even catch my breath to explain, Lydia was already on the floor, wailing, her face twisted in a mask of fake agony. She pointed a trembling finger at me.

"Dave! Your wife pushed me!" she sobbed, her voice perfectly pitched for him. "She called me a pest. She said I’m trying to seduce you... Dave, you have to believe me!"

My head was spinning, the room tilting dangerously. I looked down, and my breath hitched in my throat. Blood. It was dark and hot, gushing between my legs, soaking into my dress. The paper with the positive result was crumpled beneath me in the puddle.

"Help me..." I screamed, my voice raw. "Please, someone help me!

Dave froze, his eyes darting between me and Lydia. For a heartbeat, he started to move toward me, his face pale. But then Lydia grabbed his pant leg, her grip like iron.

"My leg, Dave!" she shrieked, her voice frantic. "I think you broke my leg when she shoved me! It hurts so much!"

Dave stopped. He looked at me, lying there in my own blood, and then he looked down at Lydia. He didn't ask me if I was okay. He didn't look at the blood. He turned his back on me.

"Get the doctor over here!" he barked at the nurse who was rushing toward me. But he didn't tell her to help me. He pointed at Lydia.

Without a single glance back at his wife or his child, he scooped Lydia into his arms. He lifted her as if she were made of glass, shielding her from the floor, and rushed out into the hallway.

The sound of his footsteps fading away was louder than my own screams. I was left on the cold, hard tile, watching the red stain spread, listening to the nurse call for help, while the only man I ever loved carried my replacement to safety.