Chapter 4
I didn’t know how much time had passed when consciousness began to The sharp voice of my best friend, Felicia Granger, echoed in my ears.
seep
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back in.
“Are you out of your mind, Lionel? You forced her to swim? Do you have any idea she just had a miscarriage?” she asked angrily.
“She… she had a miscarriage? When was she pregnant? Why didn’t she tell me…?” Lionel’s hoarse voice wavered with guilt and disbelief.
“Are you blind? Haven’t you noticed how weak she’s been these past few days? Or were your eyes glued only to Sandra?” Felicia seethed, practically trembling with
rage.
If we weren’t in a hospital, I was sure she would’ve slapped him.
“I really didn’t know…” Lionel stammered.
“You didn’t know?” Felicia scoffed.
“Yet you had no problem signing the house over to that two–faced leech and buying her a car, did you? Do you even realize she miscarried because of your cruelty? You’re the reason!”
“I…” Lionel trailed off, his voice hollow.
“Enough. Just seeing your face makes me sick. Get out!”
The room fell into silence as Lionel left the room.
I slowly opened my eyes, the faint fluorescent lights overhead swimming into focus.
Felicia plopped down onto the chair beside me, her gaze heavy with worry as she gently touched my forehead.
“Are you awake? Do you feel pain anywhere?”
I looked at her, my vision blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. My voice cracked as I asked, “You know everything now, don’t you?”
Felicia tapped my forehead with her finger. She looked at me exasperatedly.
“I told you not to marry him, didn’t I? Now look at you. It’s too late for regrets.”
The mention of the past stung, and my nose tingled as tears threatened to fall.
Back then, if I hadn’t been blinded by love, my parents never would have allowed the marriage, no matter how privileged Lionel’s family was,
I remember the first time our families met for dinner. In the restroom, I overheard
Lionel’s mother talking on the phone Her words still schood in
Chapter 4
Lionel’s mother talking on the phone. Her words still echoed in
my mind.
“We originally planned a marriage of half a million but the girl’s family reeks of poverty. 200,000 should be more than enough to shut them up.”
That night, I told Lionel about it.
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He criticized his mother for her insensitivity and promised to privately make it up to
- me.
That promise never materialized.
Three years into our marriage, after one too many drinks, Lionel finally confessed the truth.
“Yeah, I knew about the reduced budget for the wedding. My mom asked for opinion before doing it.”
He had laughed then, cruel and smug.
my
“You’re so easy to fool, Misha. No wonder they say women in love are the easiest to deceive.”
Now that I thought about it, stripped of the rosy filters I’d placed over him, Lionel wasn’t just cold, he was downright hypocritical.
The door creaked open, and Lionel entered the room silently.
His eyes were fixed on me, intense and unwavering.
“I’m sorry, Misha. I didn’t know you’d just had a miscarriage…” he said, his voice thick with guilt.
I looked at Lionel’s face, and the coldness I had felt in the ocean surged back through
- me.
“I know you like Sandra. Let’s get a divorce. You can marry her, and I wish you both everlasting happiness,” I said icily.
“No, I don’t want a divorce!” Lionel blurted, his tone frantic.
“There’s nothing between Sandra and me. I don’t even like her! If I did, I wouldn’t have married you.”
I met his eyes and let out a bitter laugh.
“Really? Didn’t you tell me before that you liked Sandra but missed your chance?
“You said you regretted proposing to me in a moment of impulsiveness. You even claimed that if we divorced, the first thing you’d do would be to marry her. Were those lies?”
Chapter 4
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That incident replayed vividly in my mind a night when Lionel came home drunk after an evening of socializing.
Sandra had been the one to escort him back.
I had been sleeping in the guest room but heard every word exchanged between them in the living room.
Sandra was helping Lionel onto the sofa. He reeked of alcohol and had vomited all over himself.
As she turned to leave, Lionel grabbed her waist.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I can’t believe I was so impulsive back then, proposing to her,” he said, his voice thick with regret and longing.
Sandra glanced toward the bedroom where I was and a smug smile curled her lips.
“And if you were to divorce her? Who would you marry then?”
“You, of course. If I got divorced, I’d marry you first thing in the morning.
“Baby, stay with me tonight, please?” he pleaded.
Thankfully, she didn’t that night.
I knew Sandra had brought Lionel back to me not out of kindness, but because she was disgusted by the mess he had made and didn’t want to clean up after him.
Thinking back, the fact that I didn’t storm into the living room to confront her that night was telling.
Deep down, I had already given up on Lionel,
Every interaction with him after that was nothing more than a gradual desensitization–a way to rid myself of any lingering attachment.
In the hospital, Felicia eventually forced Lionel to leave my room.
But he didn’t give up easily.
Within half an hour, my phone buzzed incessantly.
Lionel had sent a barrage of messages:
[I heard you just had a miscarriage, Chicken soup is good for recovery. I’ll make some for you later.
[Don’t eat anything cold for the next few days, and keep your stomach warm. I’ve ordered some supplements for you.
[I know I was wrong. Can we just start over?)
Chapter 4
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I didn’t reply.
Instead, I muted his messages and instructed the nurses to transfer me to a VIP ward, making it clear I didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone.
Lionel still wouldn’t relent. He started calling repeatedly to say he wanted to see me.
Annoyed, I finally answered.
“Look, I don’t want to see you right now, Lionel. Let me get better, and then we’ll talk about our divorce agreement. Deal?”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
“I’ll just watch you from a distance, Misha. I promise not to disturb you,” he said softly.
I hung up and turned off my phone.
Three days later, I packed my belongings and checked out of the hospital.
Lionel was already waiting at the entrance, his face lighting up hopefully when he
saw me.
“You’re discharged? Let me take you home.”
Without argument, I got into the car.
As the engine roared to life, the Bluetooth stereo system automatically connected to the iPod Sandra had left.
Her playful voice filled the car.
“Welcome back, my big guy. Remember to work hard and earn lots of money for me to spend!”
