The breaking point of love

​The afternoon sun poured its merciless fire over her head as she ran through the city streets. Her short hair clung to her forehead, and her ragged breaths escaped her dry lips in a scattered, frantic rhythm. Her fingertips trembled as she pressed them against her stomach—there, where her three-month-old fetus lay. She was trying to draw warmth and strength from him. A frail child, fighting for survival inside a body exhausted by poverty and the relentless running between the corridors of life.

​She had just finished eight grueling hours at her first job at the shipping company; hours spent buried in paperwork, auditing, and standing on her feet. There was no time to rest. Instead, she had to cross half the city to reach her second job as a waitress at a luxury hotel.

​She glanced at her watch, and the time struck her like a physical blow. She was a full half-hour late!

​She entered through the back door of the hotel, her body boiling. The scorching outdoor heat wasn't the only cause; she was burning with a real fever that melted her mind, accompanied by a throbbing headache that felt as though it would split her skull in two.

​"Well, welcome to our princess! Do you think yourself a guest at this hotel, to show up whenever you please?"

​The voice belonged to Martha, the waitress supervisor. It cut sharply through the warm silence of the back hallway. Martha stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes locked on Evelyn with looks completely devoid of any human mercy.

​Evelyn swallowed her dry spit, trying desperately to steady her trembling feet on the ground as she apologized in an exhausted voice, "I am... I am truly sorry, Mrs. Martha... The transportation was..."

​Martha cut her off with a rude wave of her hand. "I don’t care about your flimsy excuses! You are half an hour late, and that means a full day's pay will be deducted from your salary. Now, change into your uniform immediately and go clean the tables in the western lounge. A large delegation is arriving shortly. I am not prepared to lose my job because of a failure of a woman like you!"

​Evelyn didn't have the energy to argue, or even to cry. She nodded her head in broken obedience and walked with heavy steps toward the locker room. She gently touched her stomach, whispering to herself in exhausted desperation, “Please... hold on to me just a little longer, my little one... Only a few hours left until this nightmare ends and we go back home. We will rest, and Papa will make us lunch.”

​She put on the black waitress uniform, grabbed the cloth and disinfectant, and headed toward the lounge. The vision before her eyes was swaying, and the hotel's luxurious lights appeared blurred, as if swimming in a thick fog. The fever was slowly consuming her consciousness, and a cold sweat began to pour from her forehead, mixing with the burning heat of her inflamed body.

​She worked for a full hour. Finally, as she bent down to gather her tools to leave, she felt a sharp, sudden cramp in her lower abdomen. It felt like a knife plunged into her entrails. She let out a loud groan and gripped her stomach, pressing down on it as if trying to shield her child.

​"Evelyn! Why are you standing there like a statue? Move!" Martha’s voice reached her from afar, sounding as if it were coming from deep underwater.

​Evelyn tried to take a single step forward, but at that exact moment, she felt something warm leaking and trickling down her legs... making her heart stop beating even before her body did.

​Her eyes drifted slowly down toward the white marble floor, watching dark, red drops paint the end of her rosy dreams.

​"No... no... please..." she whispered faintly, like a final gasp.

​Her feet could no longer support her. She collapsed to the floor, surrendering to everything amidst the clatter of plates and the panicked screams that erupted around her, leaving behind a piece of her soul bleeding out on the cold marble.

​The pungent smell of antiseptics was the first thing that filtered into her consciousness, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. Evelyn opened her eyes with extreme heaviness, seeing an unfamiliar white ceiling. Blurred shapes gradually came into focus, and she discovered she was lying in a hospital bed.

​She tried to move her hand and felt the prick of the IV needle secured in her veins. But her body did not ache nearly as much as the terrifying void she felt within her womb.

​With her other trembling hand, she touched her stomach. It was flat, quiet, and completely empty of that tiny warmth she used to shield herself with from the cruelty of the world. Her heart gripped with terror, and hot tears began to carve a path down her pale cheeks.

​At that moment, the room door swung open abruptly. She turned eagerly, only to find her husband, Kai, stepping inside. His features were frozen, and his eyes held a cold, harsh look completely devoid of any comfort.

​"Kai..." Her voice came out weak. She extended her hand, the one connected to the IV lines, feebly begging him to come closer, to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright. She asked him in a voice filled with trembling and denial, "My son... Kai... tell me he's okay, please..."

​Kai did not take a single step forward to grasp her outstretched hand hanging in the air. Instead, he shut the door firmly behind him, walked to the edge of the bed, and looked down at her with a contempt that sent an icy shiver straight through her bones.

​"Our son?" he sneered in a sharp, low voice that carried a buried, suffocating hatred. "There is no child anymore, Evelyn. He’s dead... You killed him with your negligence!"

​His words fell upon her like bullets to her heart. Her extended hand retreated, resting over her chest as she sobbed violently. "No... I wasn't negligent... I was working... I was trying to..."

​"Trying to do what?" he interrupted with a ferocious attack, stepping toward her to increase her terror. "Why are you so weak?! All women get pregnant and work, and look at you! You killed my son because you are a defective woman!"

​Her eyes widened in shock and bewilderment at his words. Instead of being her support in this moment, he was trampling all over her heart. He had forgotten all those nights she went to sleep hungry, pushing herself to the absolute limit just to pay off his debts.

​"I am defective?" she whispered in a completely broken tone amidst her bitter weeping. "I did all of this for you... for us..."

​"Yes, defective! The doctor told me you won't be able to get pregnant ever again! And now, this stunt of yours has cost me my first and last child with you!" He hurled his final, cutting words into her face, then turned toward the door with absolute coldness, saying, "The hospital wants the discharge papers and the bill paid... Figure it out yourself. I am not prepared to pay a single penny for the murderer of my son."

​He walked out and slammed the door violently behind him, leaving her alone in the hospital room. She stared blankly at the space where his back had been. She placed her hands over her face and burst into a silent sob—a weeping that extinguished the very last flame of love she held for him in her heart.

​Here, at this exact moment, he had pushed her straight into the depths of the abyss.