You Lost Me Before I Died

Dominic’s expression darkened as he stared at the divorce papers. He made no move to take the pen I offered.

“Scarlett, when did you become this unreasonable? You ended our pregnancy without discussing it with me, and now you expect me to sign away our marriage?”

I looked at him, wondering how a man who had known me for ten years could misunderstand me so completely.

“I waited for you, Dominic.”

“And I told you Elena was in trouble!”

In truth, whether we divorced or not hardly mattered anymore.

After all, I had acute leukemia. My doctors had explained that the disease was aggressive and that I needed treatment as soon as possible. Continuing the pregnancy would have complicated my treatment.

They had also warned me that, given the severity of my disease, I might have less than three months left.

I had already lost our baby. I didn't know how much time I had left, and I no longer wanted to spend it tangled in the endless, exhausting drama between Dominic and Elena.

For three years, Elena Blake’s depression had dictated our marriage.

I remembered my birthday dinner, the private room he’d booked weeks in advance. I’d barely leaned forward to blow out my candles when Elena called, crying so hard she could barely speak. Dominic left before I made my wish.

On our anniversary, he’d bought me white roses. But when Elena saw a photograph of her ex-husband giving his new girlfriend the same flowers, she broke down. Dominic threw my bouquet into the trash and rushed to comfort her.

Even our baby's first appointments had been sacrificed. Three times, I’d sat alone in the examination room while Dominic tended to Elena’s latest crisis.

I’d convinced myself that marriage meant making sacrifices for the people you loved.

I just hadn’t realized I was the only one sacrificing anything.

“I’m not changing my mind.” I pushed the pen closer to him. “Keep the house and the car. I want sixty percent of our savings.”

He studied me for a moment before his irritation gave way to concern. Then he sat beside me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

“Scarlett, sweetheart, let's not make a permanent decision over a terrible week.”

I didn't lean into him.

“I'll make things right,” he continued. “I'll answer your calls. You can have my location turned on permanently if that's what you need. No more missed calls, no more wondering where I am.”

“We can try for another baby,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Once things settle down, we'll have the family we've always wanted.”

I closed my eyes.

He spoke as though our lost child were a plan that had merely been postponed.

For years, he'd promised me a better tomorrow.

He'd missed Valentine's Day because Elena had a panic attack. Our anniversary trip had been cancelled when she said she couldn't cope alone. The honeymoon we'd planned since our struggling days had never happened because, according to Dominic, Elena still needed his support.

Every time, he'd ask me to be patient.

Every time, I'd believed him.

“You've stood by me for ten years,” he murmured. “Can't you stand by me a little longer? Elena's therapist says she's making progress.”

I pulled away from him.

“Dominic, I don't have another three years to give you.”

He frowned, apparently hearing only an accusation.

“Why are you talking as if I'm asking you to wait forever? Elena is getting better. She won't need me like this forever.”

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

Elena's name flashed across the screen.

He picked up immediately.

“Dominic!” she cried. “I slipped on the stairs. My ankle hurts so badly, and I can't get up!”

He was on his feet before she'd finished speaking.

“Don't move. I'm coming.”

He ended the call and reached for his keys.

I watched him cross the living room. Not once did he look back at me, ask how I was feeling after the miscarriage, or offer to bring me something warm to ease the pain.

“Dominic.”

He paused at the door.

“Sign the papers.”

His shoulders tensed. He returned, snatched the pen from my hand, and signed the last page without reading it.

“There. Happy now?”

He dropped the pen onto the table.

“One day, Scarlett, you'll realize what you've thrown away. Don't expect me to take you back when you come begging.”

Then he walked out.

The door slammed behind him.