Valentine's Day, But Make It Trauma

On the night before Valentine's Day, my boyfriend Adrian said he wanted to make up for the proposal I never got. Five months pregnant, I happily went to the cabin he'd booked. When I arrived, I realized it was the new mountain campground owned by Celeste, the woman he'd never gotten over. At dinner, Celeste brought over a pot of mushroom soup and said it was especially nourishing for pregnant women. After I finished it, I vomited until I was dehydrated and ended up in the hospital. My face broke out in a rash. The beauty product launch scheduled for the next day had to be canceled, and the breach-of-contract penalty nearly crushed me. My manager, Jenna, posted a public statement on my behalf warning everyone. Adrian was furious. He said it hadn't been easy for Celeste as a divorced woman, and I shouldn't destroy her life. On Valentine's Day, he shoved me into the car, saying he was taking me to apologize to her. Instead, he stopped halfway up the mountain. He snatched my purse and phone, then left me alone on the dirt road leading downhill. "Walk the rest of the way. Consider it your apology to Celeste." A torrential downpour swept through the mountains. I fell three times on the muddy road, one hand cradling my belly. By the time I got up, my pant legs were soaked with blood. I thought I wouldn't survive until morning. Luckily, a park ranger found me. In the ambulance, Adrian's voice message played over the speaker. "Ignore her. She's faking. Her belly's already showing, so she can't keep threatening to dump me. Let Valentine's Day teach her a lesson. Maybe then she'll stop thinking she can walk all over Celeste." I turned off the recording. At the hospital, I signed the surgical consent form.