Chapter 2

Early the next morning, I woke to the pain.

A surge of heat flowed from my lower body, staining the sheets crimson.

This was a consequence of my third miscarriage. The doctor had warned me that if I didn't rest and take care of myself, it would be very hard for me to conceive again.

I forced myself up and shook Colin awake beside me, where he was sleeping soundly.

"Colin, I don't feel well. I'm bleeding a lot. Come with me to the hospital."

He opened his eyes groggily, glanced at the sheets, and frowned.

"What happened? These sheets are going to take so much water to wash!"

He rolled out of bed and started dressing, grumbling the whole time.

"Why go to a hospital? Hospitals burn through money like water. You can't walk out of there without dropping several hundred bucks."

"This is just normal lochia. Drink more hot water and you'll be fine."

I was in so much pain I couldn't straighten up, and I gripped the edge of the bed hard.

"No, it really hurts. I have to go to the hospital."

Seeing how pale I was, Colin finally, grudgingly, picked up the car keys.

"Fine, fine. I must have owed you something in a past life."

Downstairs, I headed toward his secondhand commuter car, but he yanked me back.

"Why drive? It's rush hour. Traffic'll waste gas. There's a subway station right there—take the subway."

I stared at him, not believing my ears.

"I'm still bleeding, and you want me to cram onto a rush-hour subway?"

"The subway's three bucks. Driving is at least thirty in gas and parking. Isn't the money you save enough for two bags of brown sugar?"

He shot back like he had every right to, and he'd already started walking toward the subway station.

I stood there, watching his back as he strode away, my eyes stinging and swollen.

In the end, I took a cab to the hospital by myself.

Registered, waited in line, got an ultrasound.

The doctor looked at the results, his expression grim.

"Your endometrium is too thin and your recovery is very poor. We have to prescribe a specialized medication, and it needs to be combined with physical therapy."

"This medication isn't covered by insurance. Out of pocket, it'll run over two thousand dollars."

I walked out of the exam room with the paperwork in hand. Colin was sitting on a chair in the corridor, playing on his phone.

I handed him the paper.

"The doctor says I need a specialized medication. Over two thousand dollars."

He didn't even take it. He just shot to his feet.

"Over two thousand? That's daylight robbery!"

"What kind of specialized medication costs that much? This is just the hospital scamming women like you who don't know any better."

"No. Absolutely not. When we get home I'll make you some ginger tea with brown sugar. Same effect."

The patients and nurses coming and going in the corridor all turned to look at us.

My face burned, and I couldn't catch my breath.

"Colin, this is my body. It's about whether I'll ever be able to have children!"

"Children, children—you've already lost three, and I haven't seen a single one come out of it!"

Colin blurted it out, loud enough for the whole corridor to hear.

Everything went quiet. Everyone was watching me be made a fool of.

My face flushed red, then went pale, my nails digging into my palms.

Colin's phone suddenly rang.

He glanced down at the screen, and the fury drained out of his face, leaving it soft.

He took the phone to a corner by the stairwell, deliberately lowering his voice.

I quietly followed and stood behind the door.

"Oh, my precious little darling, you threw up again?"

"Okay, okay, I'll have the housekeeper go buy those imported cherries right away."

"Is the bird's nest soup on the stove yet? It has to be the premium kind—don't worry about the money."

"There, there. For our son's sake, hang in there a little longer."

The tenderness and the doting in his voice were things I hadn't heard once in these five years.

I leaned against the wall, my chest tight.

Imported cherries. Premium bird's nest soup.

He thought my two-thousand-dollar medication was too expensive, but he told someone else not to worry about the cost of bird's nest soup.

I took out my phone and opened Brenda Perez's page again.

Her latest post had gone up five minutes ago.

My morning sickness has been so awful, my husband just booked me the most expensive VIP suite at the maternity care center so I can rest and grow the baby—ten thousand a day!

Location tag: Harmony Private Maternity Hospital.

Only three kilometers from the public hospital where I was standing right now.