"Let me see!" Ivan's voice turned urgent. Then, hurried: "Dad, you really need to stop coddling Stella. Something's come up on my end. I have to go. I'll talk to her tonight, I promise."
Click.
The dial tone echoed down the corridor. After a long silence, my father ground his teeth. "Do the surgery. Her husband might as well be dead. Whatever happens, I'll take responsibility. Give me the consent form—I'll sign it."
The anesthetic slid cold into my veins. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, but my body felt lighter—weightless, almost—as if I were dissolving into nothing.
When I opened my eyes again, there was a moment of hollow confusion. My hand drifted to my lower abdomen. An hour ago, there had been a tiny life here, connected to me by blood and bone.
Now there was nothing.
"Stella."
My mother was watching me, her face creased with worry. I managed a weak smile. "Mom, I'm fine."
I later learned I'd been unconscious for two days and a night.
I reached for my phone. The call log was empty. The only activity was in my message thread with Ivan—a few cold texts, all sent that morning.
[Remember to go to the courthouse in three days. Divorce.]
[Still not answering me? You think ignoring this will make it go away? Stella, this divorce is happening whether you like it or not.]
[Sometimes I really wish Glenda and Cooper were my real family. Cooper is so well-behaved. I can't even imagine what kind of child our son would turn into with you raising him.]
I stared at that last message for a long time. Then, slowly, I typed: [Okay.]
I hit send. Without a second of hesitation, I deleted him from my contacts.
The fluorescent lights in the hospital were blinding. Clutching the miscarriage report, I walked alone down the corridor to collect what remained of my child.
The maternity ward was full of couples. Every expectant mother glowed with joy, their partners hovering close.
I held the small box in both hands. My heart felt as though it had been sealed inside along with that tiny body.
"Ivan, I really owe you this time." A sugary-sweet voice drifted toward me. I looked up—and locked eyes with them.
Ivan was holding Cooper's hand. Glenda clung to his arm.
Standing together, they looked exactly like a real family.
Ivan's gaze swept over me. His expression shifted the instant it landed on my flat stomach.
He strode toward me, irritation written across his face. "What are you doing here?"