Chapter 4 An Abortion Appointment
691 Words
The hospital hallway stayed quiet late into the night. The air reeked of disinfectant.
I sat alone on a cold bench, tightly holding a medical slip marked threatened miscarriage.
The doctor had said the fetus was in critical condition. I needed strict bed rest and could not handle any more stress.
I had locked Randal outside my hospital room.
I watched him pace restlessly through the glass on the door. He kept making call after call.
I knew exactly who he was reaching out to—Queenie.
Sure enough, Queenie arrived soon after, walking in with the same man from before.
She had changed her clothes and wore a reluctant look. The moment she saw Randal, she rushed into his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Randal," she said. "I had no idea she was this unwell. I was only joking."
Randal held her and patted her back softly. "It's not your fault. I didn't think things through."
Right outside my room, the two of them put on a show of being close like family.
I pulled the curtain closed coldly, shutting out that upsetting scene.
The ache in my belly was nothing next to the pain in my heart.
I sat there all by myself through the entire night.
Early the next morning, Randal pushed open the door. His eyes were bloodshot, and he carried a breakfast meal. "Phoebe, please eat something."
He set the food down gently on the table, then reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"We need to talk," I said. My voice was hoarse, barely sounding like my own.
Randal sat down beside my bed and stayed silent for a long while.
Finally, he said, "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I never should have let you get hurt on our wedding night. I've already spoken to Queenie. She knows she was wrong and swears she'll never pull tricks like this on you again."
I looked at him and felt a bitter amusement rise inside me.
Even at this point, he avoided the real problem and made excuses for Queenie.
"Randal, I want you to cut off all contact with her," I said, each word slow and clear. "From now on, it's either her or me. We can't both be part of your life."
Randal's expression turned grim in an instant. "Phoebe, stop being unreasonable. Queenie and I have been close for more than twenty years. I can't just end that bond overnight."
"What about our marriage? What about our baby?" I asked. "Are they less important than this so-called pure friendship you share with her?"
We began to argue, and our voices grew louder and louder.
He accused me of overreacting. I called him out for having no sense of boundaries.
Finally, he stood up sharply, his eyes filled with disappointment and anger. "I've completely had it with you! If you hadn't tricked me, slept with me on purpose, and gotten pregnant to force this marriage, I wouldn't have to put up with all this nonsense!"
My whole world crumbled to pieces.
I realized then—there was another version of the story I had never known, a version where everyone thought I had used schemes to pressure him into marrying me.
I parted my lips to speak, yet not a single word came out.
The pain in my chest grew so intense that I eventually went numb.
He kept shouting at me. "Keep carrying on like this all you want! If we lose the baby, it might be for the best. We'll stop torturing each other then."
With those words, he turned and stormed out without a single backward glance.
The door slammed shut hard, and the noise echoed throughout the room.
This was the thirty-fourth time Randal had abandoned me for Queenie.
A nurse came over to change my IV drip, her face full of sympathy.
The pure happiness I'd felt when I first learned I was pregnant now felt deeply ironic.
In that moment, I made a firm decision. I picked up my phone and dialed my family. "Mom, Dad... I've booked an abortion appointment. Please come take me home after the procedure."
- Writer
