When I stepped out of the operating room, Cillian stayed by my bedside.His tie, which was usually fixed properly, was off-center. There were still stark blood stains on his white shirt.The pair of eyes that were usually calm and still now contained a look of pain that could not be wiped off.Cillian closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was raspy, “I’m sorry, Margaret. I didn't know it was you.”I looked away. That was the first time I ignored him.I did not speak for the entire week that followed.Did I resent him?Probably.If it were not for him, I would not have lost my child.However, I resented myself even more.If I had realized I was pregnant, I would not have gone to him.Cillian must have felt guilty too because he made a point of spending time with me at the hospital nearly every day despite his usual complaints about how busy he was.However, I remained silent.One night, I dreamt of a girl with pigtails running up to me and throwing her
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