(ARIELLE’S POV)
The moment Jared walked out, the dam let loose. Tears streamed down my eyes in torrents, and my body shook in unison. It was all too much to rein in. Seeing him had felt like rubbing salt to a fresh injury. So excruciating. “Hey, it’s alright. Let it all out,” Ashley whispered, squeezing my hands. She had been quiet all through the exchange with Jared, and had wanted to interfere if not for my subtle signal that she remained calm.
As I let the floodgate open, my emotions were heightened. Anger, sadness, and regret. Why had I held on for so long? Why had I ignored Jared’s aloofness, attributing it to his personality when it was actually a pointer? I cried harder, more at my foolishness, and less at Jared’s betrayal. But as I cried, something shifted in me. I realized that I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. I couldn’t keep loving someone who didn’t love me back. Jared would never choose me over Sofia. If after two decades he still hadn’t gotten over her, what were the odds that even after a millennium, he would?
I sniffled, it was only unfortunate that I lost my child in the process. But this time, I wasn’t going to lose another thing before I take a walk. I was going to make the one decision I’ve been too scared to make. I was going to make the same mistake my mother made, only that, this time, I don’t consider it a mistake. I consider it a coping mechanism, and I was going to take that one bold step for my dead child, and for myself.
After what felt like eternity, I slowly got a grip of myself, wiping my tears with the tissue Ashley offered.
“I’m done,” I announced, my voice firm. And then quickly added, “I’m done waiting, done hoping. It’s time to move on,” when a confused look appeared on Ashley’s face.
“Oh,” Ashley mouthed, her eyes filled with understanding. “Well, with all that has happened, it seems like the right thing to do.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m going to file for divorce.”
Ashley’s expression turned sympathetic, like the full impact of my words just registered in her memory. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. I deserve better. My child deserved better.”
“I want you to know that whatever decision you make, I’m with you all the way.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Let’s get you to the bathroom, you look a mess,” Ashley said, at an attempt at a joke, and it drew a laugh from me.
She helped me off the bed, supporting me as we walked to the bathoom. My waist still hurt, making it impossible to walk on my own.
In the bathroom, as I washed my face, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I cringed, unable to recognize the face that stared back at me. Red-eyed, pale, sickly. But I smiled because despite the look, my eyes held a glint of defiance and determination. I was going to get my broken pieces together, and get my life on track.
After I was done, Ashley led me back to the bed, and just then, the doctor entered with his usual entourage.
“Hey, Ma’am. How are you feeling?”
“Alive, except that I feel like an old woman because my waist hurts.”
He nodded with an understanding smile. “I can imagine. We’ll check your vitals now, give you a couple of analgesic injections, and then I will tell you about the news I have about the remedy for your waist.”
My eyes lit up in expectation and I nodded, “alright.” A few minutes the doctor was done, and turned to face me.
“So back to the pain in your waist. Besides the miscarriage you had, our tests prove that you suffered a severe sprain to your waist. That’s the reason you’re experiencing pain in your waist.”
I winced, dread creeping into my chest. “Will I ever recover?”
“Of course, you’ll,” he assured. “We will help you recover. You’ll need to undergo physiotherapy sessions to regain strength and mobility in your waist.”
I felt relieved at the realization that something can be done. “That’s great, Doctor. How soon can I start?”
“Our hospital has a physiotherapy department. If you’re okay with it, we can schedule your first session for tomorrow.”
I accepted eagerly. “Yes, please. I want to get better.”
“Alright, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Have a pleasant day, and I’ll check in later,” he said, turning to leave. But I stopped him. “Doctor?”
“Yes?” He turned back.
“Can I request not to be visited by someone?” I asked hesitantly.
His expression changed slightly to surprise. I guess patients don’t make such requests often, or they don’t make it at all. “If you’re not comfortable with someone
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Visiel
you, we can certainly grant your request.
I flashed him an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll add it to your file. Um… if you don’t mind, who is it? I’m not trying to pry, but we need
that detail to include it in your file.”
I hesitated, but responded, “my husband.”
(JARED’S POV)
I pulled into the driveway, exhausted. Sofia rushed out of the house, and into my arms, the moment I arrived at the front door.
“Oh my poor you, you look so miserable,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.
I barely returned the hug, before disengaging.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” she said, pulling me along. I followed, too drained to resist.
She led me to the sitting room, and to a couch. “Tell me, how do you feel?”
“Guilty,” I said, summing my emotions in one word.
Sofia’s eyebrows rose. “Guilty of what exactly?”
I hesitated, but the words tumbled out. “Of making her lose our child.”
Sofia scoffed. “Were you the cause of the accident? Did you hit her with your car?”
I shook my head. “Not literally, but I contributed to it. We both did.”
Sofia flared up. “Please, keep me out of your guilty game. She was
careless not to have seen an approaching car until she was hit. How did you or I contribute to it?”
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“For God’s sake, she saw us,” I said, my voice rising. “That led her into the streets.”
“And how’s that my fault or yours? If she had stayed put in the kitchen at her job, none of this would have happened…”
At that point, I decided I had heard enough. I rose from the couch, needing space.
“Don’t walk out on me, Jared!” Sofia yelled after me, but I didn’t look back. I kept walking.