Chapter 4

I pushed the door open with shaking hands.

The little clothes I'd sewn by hand. The baby shoes I'd bought.

The crib Victor had put together piece by piece.

All of it was gone.

In its place stood Crystal's easel and a table covered in paint.

I tore through the room like something had come apart in me, searching for any proof the baby had ever existed.

Until my foot knocked over the brush-water bucket in the corner, and a soaked memory album spilled out with the dirty water.

I'd made it the day I found out I was pregnant, working on it for two full weeks, every line drawn by hand.

Inside was the first ultrasound photo, a record of every kick.

On the opening page were the words Victor had written to our child by hand.

Baby, Mommy and Daddy can't wait for you to get here.

Once, he'd held this album and kissed my forehead. "Etta, you and the baby are the most precious gifts I have."

But now this album, the one that carried all our love and hope, was so stained with paint you couldn't tell what it used to be.

I held the soaked album against me, shaking all over and unable to stop.

"What are you doing?"

Victor's voice came from behind me.

I whipped around.

He and Crystal stood in the doorway.

When he saw the album in my arms, his face changed.

The next second, out of habit, he moved Crystal behind him.

I couldn't even bring myself to care about that anymore. All I could think of was the baby soaking in that filthy water, and the rage of it.

"Victor."

I looked at him, tears falling and refusing to stop, a whole year of swallowed grief breaking loose at once.

"Who threw it out?!"

Victor lowered his head, avoiding my eyes, silent for a few seconds before he spoke.

"I did."

Two words.

And they shattered the last shred of hope I'd been holding on to.

"Why?"

"Crystal got into that accident swerving to avoid a pregnant woman. I didn't want to upset her."

He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, a different man entirely from the one who'd once waited for our baby with such joy.

Then Victor seemed to finally notice how pale my face had gone, and his tone softened.

"Have you forgotten? Crystal only got hurt because of us, after all."

"Once she's fully adjusted, we can have another child then. All right?"

I looked at him, my vision blurring more and more.

How could I forget.

If Crystal hadn't been in that accident bringing me my wedding veil, she never would have lost her memory.

I never would have handed Victor over to her with my own hands, never would have had to slip away from everyone just to hold him for five minutes.

But watching Victor shield Crystal like it was the only natural thing to do, I suddenly found the whole thing absurd, almost laughable.

Maybe the accident was only the opening that let the right two people find each other.

I stopped demanding answers. I just lowered my head and replied to my advisor's email: confirming my application.

Then I gathered the ruined album into my arms, little by little.

The way you'd hold the child who never got the chance to be born.

Passing through the living room, I slipped the bracelet off my wrist.

It was the one Victor's mother had put on me herself, the first time she met me.

Every time the hurt had grown almost too much to bear, I'd catch myself touching that bracelet on my wrist.

But now I set it down on the coffee table.

The jade bracelet gave a soft, clear chime.

Victor's face changed in an instant.

"Loretta, what are you doing?"

He stepped forward, reaching to take my arm.

I didn't answer.

I only moved my arm out of his reach, lifted my head, and took one last look at the home that had once been ours.

My voice was calm, without a single ripple.

"Victor, there's no need to wait for her to adjust anymore."

"Our wedding is off."