Chapter 1

I started spotting in my fourth month of pregnancy. My husband, a renowned OB-GYN, told me to go to my check-up alone.

I didn’t try to stop him. I just watched, quietly, as he rushed out the door to be with his childhood friend, Mia, who was drunk and threatening to do something stupid.

Last time, he went with me to the check-up. He saved me. I had a high-risk pregnancy.

Mia never saw him. She went crazy after drinking, falling from a rooftop, a bloody mess.

He disappeared for three days. When he came back, he was calm. We looked forward to the birth of our child, together.

But when I went into labor, he insisted on delivering the baby himself.

He watched, coldly, as I writhed in pain, bleeding uncontrollably. He refused to do a C-section.

I begged him to save our baby.

He brought up the past, icily.

“You didn’t have any problems at that check-up. You lied, used the baby to manipulate me. That’s why I couldn’t save her!”

“Mia was so young, so good. She wouldn’t have died so horribly if it weren’t for you. I wish it were you and the baby who died instead!”

I opened my eyes, back to the day of the bleeding, the day of the check-up.

I watched him brush past me, rush out the door. I knew he remembered, too.

…

That was the same look he gave me on the day I gave birth, in my previous life.

He stood by the delivery bed, watching me, cold and expressionless.

He held the scalpel, but he deliberately delayed, until I had a difficult birth and hemorrhaged.

They had to remove my uterus, and my baby suffered brain damage due to prolonged compression. He became a vegetable.

I didn’t blame my child. He was innocent.

But I couldn’t forgive myself, for not being responsible enough.

And I couldn’t bear the suffocating life, the cold indifference.

Depression consumed me, a tumor eating away at my every waking moment. Finally, I took my child and jumped from the building. I wanted it all to end.

He didn’t try to stop me. He just stood there, spitting out words that destroyed what little life I had left:

“Summer, stop acting. You’re too phony to commit suicide. Even if you do jump, you deserve it. You owe it to Mia. I won’t feel sorry for you at all.”

I could almost feel the pain of broken bones again. The discomfort, the ringing phone, reminded me: I was back. Back to the day of the check-up.

I could hear Mia’s voice coming from his phone. “Brandon, hic, I’m okay. I’m just lonely. I miss you. Can you come see me? It’s windy up here, and cold. Hic, Brandon…”

“Mia, be good. Are you drunk? Listen to me. Get away from there, don’t move around. I’ll be right there!” His voice was trembling.

“Go ahead, I can handle my check-up.”

The pain and hatred threatened to spill over. But I wanted to let go. He wanted to save Mia? Fine. I pretended not to hear their conversation.

He turned and left without a word, his back cold and resolute.

I remembered the old days.

He used to hold my hand as we walked. I liked to lag behind him, admiring his strong back.

He would gently squeeze my palm, smiling, asking, “Are you cold?”

I would push him away, pretending to be annoyed. But I would smile secretly, when he wasn’t looking.

Now, the man who used to protect me was leaving me when I needed him most. No explanation.

Everything I loved about him now hurt.

I touched my stomach. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. It’s bad for the baby. At least I have the baby.”

I went outside and hailed a cab.

The driver was a friendly older guy. He started chatting. “How many months along? Almost time, huh? Where’s your husband?”

I was pale. My body was shaking. The emotion was churning inside me, a fire about to explode. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. I needed quiet.

He noticed my silence, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. He realized something was wrong, stepped on the gas, and didn’t say anything else.

Suddenly, the screech of brakes, a huge crash.

Before I could react, the car was thrown off the road. We hit a tree. I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

Everything slowed down.

Sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I clutched my stomach. No. Nothing must happen to my baby.

People rushed over. Someone called 911. Someone patted my shoulder, gently. “Don’t worry, the ambulance is coming. The baby will be okay.”

The driver was hurt, but not as badly as I was. He got out of the car, frantically searching for my phone. He dialed the number labeled “Husband,” his hand shaking.

It rang a few times. He answered. The driver said, “Come quick! Your wife, she—”

He cut him off, coldly. “Summer, stop acting. Why are you always so dramatic?”

His voice was like ice. I shuddered, and the pain intensified.

I heard Mia giggling on the phone. “Oh, Brandon, don’t say that. It’s my fault. You should be with Summer.”

I bit my lip, tasting blood. My heart felt like it was being cut to pieces. People were trying to help me. The driver was pacing, anxiously.

He was a cold wall, blocking out any warmth.

“I knew you were planning something, when you pretended to be so understanding this morning,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “I just got here to see Mia, and you pull this? You’re so predictable.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. I clenched my clothes, my fingers white. Someone put a hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, miss. Stay calm. The ambulance is on its way.”

He changed his tone, became gentle, loving. “Mia, ignore her. Let’s go eat. Don’t let this ruin your day.”

Ever since Brandon and I started dating, Mia had always been like a clingy cat, always around him.

During lunch, on weekends, she always had an excuse. “Let’s see a movie tonight. I bought tickets!” Or, “I’m in your neighborhood. I miss you. Can I see you?”

I used to tell him, “Mia’s too clingy. She needs boundaries. I want space, just the two of us.”

He always said, “Mia’s just a little sister. Summer is my one and only. She’s just acting up, it’s no big deal. I can handle it. Don’t worry.”

His tenderness was once my own. Now, he gave it all to someone else.

I knew I shouldn’t expect anything from him. But his coldness still chilled me to the bone.

The world was blurring. I fought the panic, but the pain was overwhelming.

People were helping, but I felt like I was falling into darkness, alone.

The ambulance sped to the hospital, sirens wailing, blending with my heartbeat.

I was rushed inside. The familiar ceiling, the familiar halls, the smell of disinfectant.

The nurse, Susan, saw me.

She rushed over, worried. She dialed his number.

“Brandon, Summer’s had an accident. The baby…she might lose the baby. You need to come!” Her voice was anxious, her eyes red.

He said, coldly, “Susan, I know you and Summer are friends. But don’t waste resources. She’s fine. I took her to all her check-ups, and the baby’s fine. Stop this.”

I stared at Susan. Her hand was shaking. She looked panicked.

His voice was still cold. “Stop acting with her. I’m busy. Gotta go.” He hung up.

Susan stood there, speechless. She turned to me, lost. “Summer…what do we do? Should I call him again?”

I fought back tears, trying to stay calm. I took a deep breath, my throat hoarse. “Don’t call him. Call my mother-in-law.”

My mother-in-law. My only ally in this family.

She was good to me. She treated me like her own daughter.

Whenever Brandon and I fought, she would take my side, comforting me.

She knew how to care. Especially after I got pregnant. She took care of me, making soup, cooking meals, reminding me of everything.

When Brandon was cold, she was the one who soothed me.

She would say, gently, “It’s okay, Summer. Everything will be alright.”

Her care gave me some warmth in this cold house.

I could only depend on her now.

They wheeled me into the operating room.

My mother-in-law paced outside, frantically calling Brandon, but she couldn’t reach him.

She looked up at the door, worried, tired.

Whenever a doctor came out, she would ask about me. The answers made her more anxious.

Finally, the screen lit up. Brandon was calling.

She answered, urgently. “Brandon, why aren’t you answering? Where are you?”

His voice was cold. “I’m at the movies with Mia.”

“Your wife’s in an accident, and you’re at the movies? Why weren’t you there for her check-up?”

Brandon sounded scornful. “Mom, is Summer telling you stories again? You spoil her. What’s the big deal if a pregnant woman goes to a check-up alone? You’re too nice to her! Mia was upset, she had too much to drink. I wanted to be with her. She needed me more.”

My mother-in-law was shaking. She almost dropped the phone. She screamed, “Your wife is dying to give you a child, and you’re with another woman! Get over here! Now! Or you’re no longer my son!”

When I woke up, everything was blurry. I was weak, stuck in bed.

I reached for my stomach.

My mother-in-law sat by the bed, her eyes swollen. She squeezed my hand, trying not to cry. “Summer, listen. Don’t panic. Don’t get upset. The baby…didn’t make it.”

The words pierced my heart.

My mind went blank. The loss was crushing.

“Don’t be too sad. The doctor said you’re young. You can have more.”

She leaned over, wiping my tears.

I couldn’t stop crying. My heart was breaking. I failed to protect my baby again.

The door burst open. Brandon stormed in, angry.

“Summer, how much longer are you going to keep this up?”

“Every time, you pull some stunt. I told you, Mia and I are just friends! You don’t believe me. Now you’re staging a car accident? I’m done! I want a divorce!”

His words hit me like a thunderbolt.

I stared at the ceiling, unable to believe what I was hearing. How could he say such a thing at a time like this?

My mother-in-law stood up, pointing at his face. “Are you even human? Your wife is in an accident, she lost the baby, and you’re yelling? Do you have a heart?”

He realized something was wrong. He looked at my stomach, and froze.