Chapter 6
913 Words
When she regained consciousness again, she was in the hospital.
The familiar smell of disinfectant, the familiar hospital room ceiling.
Her head ached terribly. The back of her head was wrapped in thick gauze.
Her left arm was also in a cast. There was a dull pain in her ribs on her chest. The doctor diagnosed a minor bone c***k and a concussion.
A nurse told her that a passerby had called the ambulance.
She and another woman had been brought in together.
That other woman only had some scrapes and was overly frightened. She had already been treated and was fine.
"Your husband is with her. He was just outside," the nurse said casually, adjusting the drip rate on her IV.
Linda closed her eyes.
So, in that split-second instinctive choice between life and death, he had unhesitatingly left the chance for survival and safety to Lucy.
And left her to fate, or rather, to death.
That divorce report had been filed exactly right.
No, it had been filed too late.
She had actually shared a bed with such a man for five years.
She had actually carried a child for such a man.
Absurd, utterly ridiculous, and completely disgusting.
Linda's injuries required several days of hospitalization.
David came to her room a few times. Each time, he stood silently for a while, looking at her cold profile, wanting to speak but holding back.
In the end, all he could say was a dry, "Get some rest."
Then he would put down some fruit or nutritional supplements and leave.
He didn't seem to know how to face her, nor how to explain that instinctive lunge in the road.
Explain? What was there to explain?
It was instinct. And instinct was often the truest answer.
Lucy came once too, her eyes red and swollen, as if she had been crying for a long time.
She sat by the hospital bed, held Linda's right hand that wasn't in a cast, and cried before she could speak. "Linda, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry... I was frozen with fear. David... he was just anxious. He didn't think it through. He definitely wanted to protect both of you..."
Linda pulled her hand back. The force wasn't strong, but the message was clear.
She watched Lucy perform, watched her explain through tears that life-or-death decision she "hadn't thought through," watched her make excuses for David while pretending to blame herself.
What a deeply devoted and helpless pair of "star-crossed lovers" they made. And she, Linda, was just the obstacle stuck between them who had almost been run over.
"Dr. Green," Linda said, her voice hoarse from weakness and not having spoken much, but clear as day, "I don't need visitors here. Please leave."
Lucy's crying stopped abruptly. A flash of embarrassment and awkwardness crossed her face, along with a hint of barely concealed annoyance.
She pressed her lips together and stood up. "Then... rest well. Don't overthink things."
Linda closed her eyes and no longer looked at her.
The hospital room finally fell quiet.
The physical pain came in waves, but none of it was as cold as the barren wasteland in her heart.
She lay there, staring at the drops falling one by one through the IV tube, counting the time, only hoping to be discharged soon, to leave this place completely.
That afternoon, the medication took effect. She was drifting in a hazy half-sleep.
The hospital room door wasn't fully closed, leaving a c***k. Sounds from the hallway outside drifted in faintly.
First, the low voices of nurses changing shifts. Then, a slightly clearer conversation filtered in.
It was two voices, one male and one female, not far from her door, by a window.
The man's voice was very low, but Linda still recognized it: David. The woman's voice was choked with sobs: Lucy.
"...Stop. I'm very confused right now," David's voice was thick with exhaustion and irritation.
"Confused? David, now you tell me you're confused?" Lucy's voice was agitated, tearful. "After that night, I'm pregnant! David, I'm pregnant!"
Outside the door, suddenly dead silent.
Inside the room, Linda's breathing stopped. Blood rushed to her head, then drained away just as quickly, leaving only cold.
"Definite! Almost seven weeks!" Lucy's crying was heart-wrenching. "By my calculation, it was the night before Linda miscarried and was hospitalized! That night, you were at my place..."
Linda's mind exploded completely.
So, on the night she lost her child, he had given Lucy a child.
The voices outside the door blurred into meaninglessness.
She pulled the sheet over her head and buried herself beneath the white.
That was enough.
On the day she was discharged, David didn't come.
She handled the paperwork herself and went back to that so-called home.
She walked straight into the bedroom, took out a suitcase, and began packing her things.
Her movements were slow, but exceptionally steady.
She only took her own clothes, books, documents, and the divorce report she had prepared long ago.
She put the report in the most conspicuous spot on the living room coffee table.
After a moment's thought, she tore a piece of paper from her notebook, wrote a few words with a pen, and placed it on top of the report.
Then, she pulled her suitcase, took one last look around the place she had lived for five years. There was no trace of reluctance in her eyes.
She opened the door and walked out without looking back.
- Writer
