The monthly blood donations, even during pregnancy, weren't out of kindness or care. They were sacrifices—for Patricia.
Denise, you are truly foolish.
I mocked myself silently
For abandoning the foster father who gave me unconditional love...For returning to a mother who only saw me as a tool...For cherishing a husband who never cherished me...For loving a man so deeply that even my child had to suffer for it.
Overnight, I lost my baby, my husband, and my mother.
The wound in my heart was torn open once again. If felt as if salt had been ruthlessly rubbed into it—pain so sharp I could barely breathe.
As I drifted into uneasy sleep, I saw a vision.
A little boy stood at the gate of heaven, waving at me with a bright, innocent smile.
"Mom, I'm leaving," he said softly. "Don't worry. I'm just going to find my brothers and sisters."
His small voice trembled with warmth. "Mom, don't cry, okay? You have to be happy."
Before I could reach him, he turned and climbed the radiant stairway where several children waited with open arms.
"No! Baby! Don't go!" I screamed, running after him—but the light disappeared, and I fell into darkness.
"Don't!"
I jolted awake with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat, only to find myself lying in a hospital bed.
"Denise, it's alright," Weston's hoarse voice murmured beside me. "We'll have another child."
His red eyes and trembling hands only made the emptiness inside me grow deeper.
My trembling hand touched my belly.
Once round and full of life—now utterly flat.
"My child...my baby…"
Disbelief, pain, and despair surged through me all at once.
"Ah—!"
My scream tore through the sterile ward.
"Denise, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry…"
An's mother held my hand tightly, her face full of guilt and false tears.
But her apology only deepened the knife in my heart.
The memory of their conversation in the ambulance echoed in my ears—and I knew none of it was remorse.
"Get out! Both of you!" I screamed, grabbing anything within reach and hurling it at them.
Weston shielded An's mother, his voice soft and gentle. "Denise, please, don't be like this. You still have us."
"Go away! Go away!"
Seeing that I refused to listen, they finally left—leaving behind nothing but the sound of my broken sobs echoing through the empty ward.
The next day I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like a puppet whose strings had been cut.