Chapter 3

When I came to again, the doctor told me, with regret in her voice, that the baby's heart had stopped.

Lying on the operating table, staring up at the harsh light, I trembled at the cold touch of the instruments.

Sensing how tense I was, the nurse beside me spoke gently.

"Don't worry. You're still young. Once you recover, there'll be another."

I didn't know how to answer her. I only let the tears slide down my cheeks.

Seeing me like that, she must have thought I was simply new to all this, that I couldn't accept it yet.

She shook her head and said nothing more. But I knew. I would never have a child again.

All these years, because Stewart kept putting off marriage, I hadn't wanted a baby before we were even married.

But fate likes its little jokes. In the very year Stewart gave up his job back home,

we had a child.

Back then, thinking of our situation, we barely consulted a doctor before booking the procedure.

It was only afterward that I learned I'd been frail from birth, and after the surgery, having children later might be nearly impossible.

So when this baby came, I was so happy. I wanted to keep it no matter what.

When my parents found out, they even sold their house to help me cover the down payment.

And now, even this child, I hadn't been able to keep.

By the time Stewart arrived, I'd already been moved to a ward to rest.

Seeing how disheveled he looked, I thought at first it was because he'd rushed here in such a hurry.

"How could you not even protect the baby?"

Watching him stride quickly to my side, I thought he was worried about me.

The moment he opened his mouth, it was to blame me.

I looked at him coldly, and all I felt was how absurd it was.

"So it's because I didn't protect it?" My voice carried no emotion. My heart had long since gone numb with pain.

He seemed to remember our argument that morning, and to realize the words he'd just said weren't quite right.

He didn't argue further, only sat at the edge of the bed and took my hand.

"You know better than anyone, with your body, how hard it was for this baby to come. I was just anxious."

His palm was damp with sweat, and the instant he took my hand, something in me turned.

Seeing how poorly I looked, he sighed, reached for the cup by the bed, and got up to fetch water.

But as he turned to the side, I saw the red marks on his neck.

I caught his hand. Under his puzzled stare,

I pointed at the mark and demanded, "What is that?"

He followed my hand and looked down at himself. Even in his blind spot, he quickly understood what I meant.

"After everything that's happened, you're still here being paranoid?" He shot to his feet and glared at me.

As if I were the one who'd done something wrong.

"I think you're a little unstable right now. Maybe losing the baby is more than you can take."

"I'll call your parents later and have them come. I'm going back first."

Watching him flee out the door, the last bit of hope I'd held for him vanished.

He didn't need to contact my parents. I got there first, and dialed.

But the moment I heard my mother's voice, I couldn't hold it back, and broke into sobs.