The blood on the operating table that day. There was a lot of it. The doctor said if I'd come in half an hour later, it could have been life-threatening.
Clay didn't know any of that.
He didn't need to.
The day I moved into the new apartment, I threw away that strand of hair.
It had been tucked inside my journal for almost six months. By the time I pulled it out, it had turned yellow.
I held it up to the light by the window, then opened my fingers and watched it drift into the trash can.
Like closing a chapter for good.
The new place was small, barely four hundred square feet, but the windows faced south.
In the afternoon, sunlight poured in and pooled on the floor. I stood there watching that patch of light for a long time.
My phone rang.
Mom.
"Lydia, honey, Chloe Chavez's daughter told me you moved?"
"Yeah."
"What's going on with Clay? Aren't you two engaged?"
I leaned against the windowsill. The sun warmed my back.
"We broke up."
"Broke up? Why? You've been together five years. You bought a place together—"
"Mom." I cut her off. "He was seeing someone else."
Silence on the other end. A few seconds.
"That son of a bitch." My mother's voice changed completely. "You sit tight. I'm coming to Graystone City tomorrow. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."
I almost laughed.
The first time Clay came to the house, my mom had held his hand and said, "What a good boy. I'm trusting you with my Lydia." Now he was a son of a bitch.
"You don't have to, Mom. I'm fine."
"Fine? You lost a baby and that's fine?"
I froze.
How did she know?
"Chloe Chavez's daughter is a nurse at that hospital. She told me. Lydia, something that serious and you didn't tell your family?"
My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
"That's enough. Don't worry about it. I'll be there tomorrow."
The call ended.
I stood by the window, staring at the sky outside. My eyes stung without warning.
It wasn't self-pity. It was the feeling of someone having my back. I'd gone so long without it.
When my mom arrived, she brought six homemade buns, a jar of hot sauce, and my dad's savings.
She slapped the savings down on the table. "Take this. Find a better apartment. This place is too small to breathe in."
"Mom, I have money."
"Your money is your business. This is my heart." She sat on the edge of my bed, glanced around the room, and sighed. "You've lost weight."
I didn't say anything.
"Has he come looking for you?"
"Yeah."
"What'd you say?"