I had to know what was happening.
“Excuse me,” I said, stopping a passing doctor. “Flora… the woman in room 204. Is she okay?”
The doctor gave me a brief, cautious smile. “Yes, she’s stable. But we’re running tests to ensure the baby is fine after the fall.”
I froze. What baby?
“She’s…pregnant?” My voice barely came out, like the words were caught in my throat.
“Yes,” the doctor confirmed, looking down at his clipboard. “Still in early pregnancy. Are you her family? Her fall might have caused some complications, but we’re monitoring her closely. Don’t worry.”
I couldn’t move. My legs felt like lead, my heart pounding so loud I thought the whole hospital could hear it.
Pregnant. Flora was pregnant. While her husband had already passed away 3 months ago.
I forced myself to stand straighter, to push the pain aside. I tried to walk toward her room, but the sharp pain in my ankle made me stumble. I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking as I dialed Rowan’s number.
He didn’t answer.
I called again. And still No answer.
I tried a third time, my breath hitching with every ring, but he hung up.
I stared at my phone, my hands trembling. “Unbelievable,” I muttered, stuffing it back into my bag. “You’ll pick up for her, but not for me. Of course.”
I limped toward the surgical ward, each step slow and painful. My ankle throbbed with every movement, but I didn’t care anymore.
The doctor in the ward was kind. She worked quickly, cleaning the wound and wrapping it tightly. I barely flinched, the physical pain nothing compared to the storm raging inside me.
“You’re quite tough,” she said with a smile. “Not like the last patient we treated. Her injury was much smaller, but she insisted on being admitted.”
I let out a bitter laugh, my voice hollow. “Let me guess. She’s pregnant, right?”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Yes. You know her?” She chuckled softly, adding, “Her husband was so handsome and attentive. He was holding her when they arrived, staying close the whole time.”
I laughed again, but it was empty. “That wasn’t her husband,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “That was mine.”
The doctor’s face froze, realization dawning too late. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she stammered.
“It’s okay,” I said, a smile that didn’t reach my eyes pulling at my lips. “He’s not anymore.”
I pulled out my phone again, my hands shaking as I scrolled to a number I hadn’t dialed in years.
My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, then I pressed call.
The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered. Warm, calm, and steady. “So, you finally decided to call me.”
I couldn’t speak. The sobs I’d been holding back came pouring out, and I pressed the phone to my ear as if that would make everything better.
“Janet?” His voice was alarmed now. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I sucked in a shaky breath, forcing the words out through the tears. “I need you to prepare the divorce papers for me. And come pick me up…”
