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“He’s dead! He’s f*****g dead! You’re free, isn’t that what you always wanted? Go to hell, Mother! Just go to hell!” I screamed, running out from the corridor. I turned left and pressed my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. I curled into my knees, tears streaming down my face.
Just as I caught my breath, hurried footsteps approached. The doctor from earlier rushed towards me, a green stretcher in tow, surrounded by nurses. My heart dropped as I recognized my mother lying on it in pain. I scrambled to my feet, as if he had guessed what was running through my mind, he said.
“Your mother is having a miscarriage. Call your father or any close relatives; she’s lost too much blood.” My head spurned sideways, tracing the trickles of blood on the white tiles leading away from her.
‘Mother was pregnant?’ My fingers curled up to a fist having my nails dug into my palms and my knuckles turning white. I spotted her handbag on the floor and rushed over, rummaging through it until I found her cellphone.
I unlocked it and scrolled through her call logs, my pace quickening in the hallway. My heart raced as I tapped on the number labeled Shane Hubby and hit call. “Pick up, damn it!” I muttered, my legs wobbling from the stress my body was going through.
As much as I despised my mother, I couldn't let her die easily. A miscarriage was too simple; she deserved something more painful.
I pressed the phone to my ear, desperate for an answer, but heard the same message over and over: “The number you are failing is currently switched off, please try again later or better still leave a voicemail.” I groaned, clutching to the cellphone and tried again, over and over, the same response hitting me on my face.
I scrolled over to her chats with Shane, reading through it, every one of them stunning me.
“Baby, when will you come back home? I’m about to break things off with Richard, and I have news—I’m pregnant. Come home, hubby. Let’s celebrate with some champagne.”
This was her last chat with him and he had seen it but hadn’t replied. My mind raced, reeling at the realization that my mother must have been cheated.
It was clear my mother did all the talking; his responses were barely there. I darted down the hallway, spotting the doctor with his eyes closed, clearly impatient for my decision.
“I can’t…I just can’t decide right now,” I murmured. It wasn’t my place to demand the baby be removed to save her, even though every part of me wanted to.
It was his baby—Shane’s baby, my crush’s child—and he had to make this decision himself. I glanced sideways through the glass, my mother unconscious and pale. I loathed her, yet I couldn’t leave her alone. I exhaled, checking my watch. If I stayed any longer, the wedding would be over, but if I left, my mother wouldn’t survive either.
I was trapped between the deep blue sea and the devil himself, with no way out. “Cut off the baby…”
“There are complications. Your mother’s pregnancy is ectopic. If I sever the baby, she’ll fall into a deep coma from hypoxia. If I don’t, they’ll both die. Make a choice.” He yelled, gripping the scalpel and tearing into my mother.
“And I made my choice, I want the baby to be removed.”
_______________________________________
Hours dragged on, and I lost count of how many times I’d cried. My gaze shot to my buzzing phone, flooded with missed calls and messages from Denny, my fiancè and only one struck me dumbfounded.
“Since you decided to run off from your own wedding, don’t blame me for calling off the engagement. Lauren Wayne, it’s over. Our relationship is over.”
I read the words over and over, each one hitting harder than the last. My head dropped, tears streaming down my face. I had chosen my mother over my fiancé.
“Please be alright, Mother. I know I hate you, but I can’t let you die. I’ve already lost my father; I can’t lose you too.” I kept on muttering some sort of consoling words to myself. Just then, the door swung open, I braced myself, already knowing what he was going to say.
This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
“Your mother lost a lot of blood. She was four months pregnant, and the child was growing in her fallopian tubes. There were serious complications, but—” He stepped out of the cubicle, approaching me with his head hung low.
But what? I screamed inside, my heart racing. I couldn't bear the suspense. If she was dying, just say it! Why put me through this torment over bad news?
“But we managed to stop the bleeding. She’s in a coma, and we can’t say how long she’ll be out. It could be a year and a half. Prepare for the worst, and get the baby’s father here ASAP. She may need major surgery tomorrow.”
Where was I supposed to find Shane to tell him my mother was pregnant with his child? How could I face him without wanting to kill him for ruining my family?
“Can’t I just sign it? I don’t know where to find him, and I’m exhausted, doc. I really don’t want to see Shane at all…”
“I’m sorry, Miss Wayne, but only the father can sign the form. We can’t proceed with the procedure without his consent. You have to understand…”
I stretched out my hands, my face frowning deeply. “Where’s the consent form? Give it to me! I’ll get his signature before tomorrow. But one thing’s for sure: I don’t want her dead before I get back! I still have a lot to blame her for…”
Clueless, I stood there, speechless. In just a day, I had lost both my parents, my fiancé, and my dream wedding—everything had crumbled. I thanked the doctor as he briefed me on what to bring for my mother’s admission, then he left.
She would be under critical care in the ICU until either death or suffering claimed her. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since morning; I’d skipped breakfast to look my best.
I gathered her things from the floor and exited the hospital, catching a cab just outside the lobby. I leaned against the window, lost in thought, wondering where everything had gone wrong in my parents' marriage.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, as I saw an unfamiliar number.
“Lauren, I heard you were back to Braxton. This is Shane. Let's meet and talk…address is 24, Greenwood Villa”
My breath caught in my throat. What did he want now? I stared at the screen, reeling from his words. Did he already know what happene
d to my mother? Or was there something more he needed to tell me?
- Writer
