Chapter 4 I Don't Like Your Jokes
1191 Words
Lily's POV:
The moment the words left my mouth, I'd be lying if I said I didn't regret them.
I had once dreamed of a love without deceit, but a love built on lies had nearly destroyed me. Now, I needed to protect myself.
I saw Brad frowning as he said in his icy voice, "Lily, I don't like your jokes."
My heartache felt like a noose tightening around my neck, nearly suffocating me, yet I managed a laugh. "You never had a sense of humor, did you?"
Indeed, our relationship was never real. Brad had welcomed back the woman he loved most, so why would he want to hear about an unwanted pregnancy at this moment?
I couldn't bear to hand everything over—including the man before me—back to someone else.
But borrowed things always needed to be returned. Was I too naive to believe that everything could turn out happily?
"But I admire your decisiveness, Brad." I moved closer to him, baring my teeth as if to bite, catching him off guard with my rudeness as he stepped back in disgust.
"Wait!" Emily stood to say something, but Brad stopped her. "Let her go."
Our eyes met, and I saw the fear in Emily's. She might have guessed, but I bet she wouldn't dare speak up. After all, seeing me leave immediately was what she desired most.
Dragging my luggage, I pushed open the door and saw the path to the exit, at the end of which stood a beautiful angel statue.
It looked as lively as ever, reminding me of the distant past.
It was my first time entering this luxurious house. I was so nervous that I greeted every servant who welcomed me, not even realizing at first that it was a statue.
A faint laugh from one of the servants, though brief, had deeply embarrassed me.
Back then, Brad, still blind, had grasped my hand and smiled at me—a charming smile that had lifted my spirits, making me excitedly ask myself, "Do I finally have a home?"
How strange. I had never noticed how long this path was before—so long that the good memories were just a tiny speck.
Now, I was nearly out of strength. Wouldn't it be funny to faint here? I'd love to see Brad's face when he learned the truth. By then, I would have nothing else to lose.
A horn sounded behind me. It was Brad's driver! He stopped not far behind me, sounding more polite than Brad ever did. "Mr. Garcia asked me to assist you."
Such unnecessary decorum. I should turn around and give a certain window a middle finger, perhaps to one or two hypocritical faces behind it.
But sadly, I really did need to get to the hospital quickly.
I didn't move forward but turned to the driver. "Just hail me a cab. Stop following me."
He nodded, did as I asked, and then returned to his car.
I was a bit worried he might follow me anyway, which would complicate things, but thankfully, I didn't see his car behind the taxi.
I should have realized by now that to Brad, I was just a big problem that needed quick disposal, not worth his energy anymore.
At the hospital's emergency room, no miracles awaited me.
The doctor dutifully explained what a biochemical pregnancy was, telling me I had experienced an early miscarriage, and the fall was just a catalyst.
Her eyes were full of sympathy as she said, "Many factors can lead to such outcomes in early pregnancy, like medications, alcohol, or even stress. It's common. So, don't blame yourself."
I felt the pain spread through my body and morph into tears.
So, was this child doomed from the start?
That brought back memories of that alcohol-laden night. Bliss had made me intoxicated and clouded my judgment. Brad's eyes had filled with a passion I hadn't seen in a long time, which ultimately made me unable to resist the temptation.
I knew Brad had been a bit different those days, but sadly didn't realize it was because Emily was about to return.
Tears soaked the miscarriage diagnosis paper, and I couldn't stop trembling.
It was me, together with Brad, who had killed this child.
The doctor, worried about my condition, suggested I stay in the hospital overnight. With nowhere else to go, I complied.
But I hadn't expected Brad to suddenly reach out.
Brad: Where are you?
I stared at the message, baffled. Why was he bothering me when he should be with Emily?
"Under a bridge," I replied.
Life was absurd, after all.
The next second, Brad's call came through.
He sounded angry. "I told you, I don't like your jokes."
There it was again. I bit my lip hard, sadness and pain reminding me of the child I had just lost.
'Who's going to help me refuse the cruel jokes fate plays?' I wondered desperately.
I hung up, turned off my phone, and then fell asleep under the influence of a sleeping pill.
When the sun rose again, I accepted the loss of my child and decided to visit my only family, my "mother".
Tessa Clarks was the same as always, lying motionless on her hospital bed, her face thin and pale.
It was all thanks to Clara, who paid for all Tessa's medical expenses and hired the best caregivers to look after her.
However, the price was that I couldn't visit her often.
Because the wife of the Garcia heir couldn't be discovered as the daughter of a thief.
After a night, I thought I was strong enough to face the world, but as I sat by Tessa's bedside, tears still streamed down uncontrollably.
"Tessa, I can come to see you more often now."
I held her hand, recalling how, after a successful theft, she'd skillfully led me through the crowds to escape.
She wasn't a noble person and didn't have a respectable job, but to me, she was the kindest person in the world.
I tried to tell her about recent events in a calm voice. Perhaps she would lament the loss of a wealthy son-in-law.
I told her I was pregnant, but the child was gone. Being a mother was hard, and I didn't know what the future held.
In the quiet of the hospital room, it felt like I received a response. After all, my life was already at its worst—it couldn't get any worse. Even if I had to sleep under a bridge, I'd survive to show her that I would be just fine.
Brad had asked me not to tell Clara about the divorce yet, which meant Tessa could continue to enjoy the best medical care.
I bent down to kiss her cheek, even though she wasn't used to such intimacy from me.
But at that moment, I truly wished she could jump up and chide me, "Don't smear your saliva on my face, Lily!"
"My life is already at rock bottom, but it won't get worse, Mommy. Even if I have to live under a bridge, I'll keep fighting."
- Writer
