I heard his footsteps grow lighter as he came closer and with a long sigh, he snatched the book from my hands and tossed a medical report in front of me. “Hannah, are you satisfied?”

The word “hysterectomy” stood out on the paper. “She was just a young girl. First you hit her, then forced her to kneel and now she has lost the right to be a mother. Hannah, you’re so cruel.”

“I’m cruel?”

“Carlos, when you called me to save you, did you forget my child was already eight months along?”

“My child didn’t deserve protection; why should you guard her so carefully? Whoever made the mistake had to pay.”

“Carlos, my only regret was not killing her the day she first appeared.”

I completely fell apart, lifted my loose nightgown, trembled and rushed out to grab a knife and only then did Carlos notice my flat belly.

After the shock passed, he wrapped his arms around me from behind as if pulling me into him. “Hannah, this is all my fault.”

A tear slid down my neck and I shivered.

It was ten years ago again when we ran hand in hand from the fire, clinging together and feeling only the heat on our necks.

A cold breeze at the hem of my skirt jolted me awake. “Carlos…”

"Don't be afraid, I'm here."

Then turned and pressed my head into his chest in a gesture that comforted and denied at once. He still thought I was the same Hannah who let him persuade me to give in.

I pushed him out the door, but before I could close it, Maya’s voice came through.

“Carlos, what’s wrong? Give me your phone! I want the whole world to see she’s a bitch!”

“Maya….”

“Carlos, I’m asking you something. Where’s the photo? Did she beg you so much? Did you give in?”

“Carlos, the doctor says I can’t have children. Please let me in. I want her child buried with mine, so she can feel the emptiness of a woman without.”

As Maya’s voice grew more frenzied, Carlos quickly covered her mouth and carried her away. I couldn’t see his expression; I only heard his soft voice, drowning like water. “Don’t be afraid, Maya, I’m here. I will love you forever.”

Five years ago, when I lost my first child in revenge and was left in torment, he had made the same promise. “Hannah, whether we have children or not, I will always love you.”

But who could have known his “forever” would last only ten years. My nails dug into my palms, yet all I felt was the same ache as the blood flowing out of me.

Men’s promises were cheap and laughable.