Chapter five
1243 Words
The sharp scent of antiseptic hit her before she opened her eyes. The ceiling was white, too white, the kind of white that made her feel small and insignificant. A slow, rhythmic beep echoed beside her, the sound of a heart monitor keeping count of a life she didn’t recognize anymore.
Jane blinked, trying to remember. The road. The rain. Francis’s words. The flash of headlights.
Then darkness.
Her throat burned as she tried to speak, but only a hoarse whisper came out. “Where…?”
A nurse appeared beside her, smiling softly. “You’re awake. You’ve been out for almost a day. You were in an accident.”
Jane’s heart stuttered. “Accident?” Her voice cracked. “Is… is anyone..?”
“No one else was hurt,” the nurse said quickly. “You were lucky. Seatbelt saved you. You hit your head, but nothing too serious.” She hesitated then, as if something heavier lingered on her tongue. “There’s something else. The doctor will explain when he comes.”
Jane tried to nod, but the pounding in her head made her sink back against the pillow. Her body felt strange, like it belonged to someone else. Every movement ached. Every breath carried the weight of something unnamed.
Minutes turned into hours. Machines hummed. Nurses walked in and out, asking questions she barely heard. No one she knew came. No husband, no flowers, no familiar face by the window.
When the doctor finally came, he looked uncomfortable, the kind of look people wear when delivering news that can’t be softened.
“Mrs. Reece,” he began, glancing at the clipboard. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Jane’s pulse quickened. “What is it?”
He cleared his throat. “During the scans, we discovered that you were… pregnant.”
Her eyes widened. “I..” She shook her head. “No, that’s not possible. I.. I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It was early, only a few weeks. But due to the stress and the impact of the accident, you lost the baby.”
The world froze.
Pregnant. Lost.
Two words that didn’t fit together, yet somehow did. She hadn’t even known hadn’t had the chance to feel happy or afraid or anything at all. The life she didn’t know she carried was gone before she could give it a name.
Jane pressed a trembling hand to her stomach. It was flat. Empty. She felt nothing, but everything hurt.
The doctor murmured something about rest, about recovery, about talking to someone. But she wasn’t listening.
Because the only thing that echoed in her head was Francis handing her that envelope.
You’ll thank me later.
Tears slipped down her temples, soaking into the pillow. “He’ll never know,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He didn’t even care.”
Days passed. No one came.
Not Francis. Not even a message.
Each morning, nurses brought her breakfast she couldn’t eat. Each night, she stared at the ceiling until sleep blurred the edges of her thoughts. Painkillers dulled the ache, but not the silence. The silence screamed louder than anything.
On the third day, a nurse entered hesitantly. “Mrs. Reece? Your husband..he’s here.”
Jane froze.
Her chest tightened painfully as the door opened and Francis walked in, immaculate as ever. He looked untouched by grief, by worry, by anything at all. His expression was businesslike, the same face he wore in boardrooms.
“Jane,” he said simply.
She didn’t answer. She only stared.
He sighed, as if the weight of her silence inconvenienced him. “I heard about the accident.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Did you? Congratulations. The hospital still works.”
Francis’s jaw clenched. “Don’t start.”
Her laughter died as quickly as it came. “You didn’t even call.”
“I was out of town. Meetings..”
“Meetings.” She repeated it like a curse. “You didn’t even ask if I was alive, Francis. I lost..” Her voice broke. “I lost something I didn’t even know I had.”
He looked uncomfortable for the first time. “Jane, I’m sorry, but..”
“But what?” she snapped. “But you still want the papers signed?”
He hesitated. That was enough.
She laughed again, hollow and sharp. “You came here to finish what you started.”
“Jane..”
“No,” she interrupted, voice trembling but steady. “Say it. You came to make sure I signed those damn papers so you can be free. Free of me. Free of us. Free of everything we built.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s better this way.”
Her eyes burned. “Better for who?”
He didn’t answer.
And that silence, that cruel, empty silence,was her final proof that there was nothing left to save.
“Get out,” she whispered.
“Jane..”
“Get. Out.”
He lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to argue, then turned and left without another word.
No backward glance. No apology. Just the sound of the door closing behind him.
She sat there long after he was gone, staring at the papers he’d left on her bedside table. Divorce documents. The same ones she had refused to sign before.
Her hands shook as she picked up the pen. “You’ll never have to see me again,” she whispered, echoing his words from that night.
The pen moved. One signature. One ending.
By the time the ink dried, so had her tears.
A week later, Jane stood at the hospital reception, clutching a discharge form in one hand and her new ID in the other. Her suitcase looked too small for the woman who had walked in a week ago and too heavy for the one walking out now.
The nurse smiled kindly. “Mrs. Reece, please wait a moment,your husband..”
Jane stopped her with a quiet shake of her head. Her voice was steady when she spoke.
“It’s Ms. Reed now.”
The nurse blinked, unsure how to respond.
Jane signed the final form, slipped her sunglasses on, and turned toward the exit.
She didn’t look back.
Not at the hospital.
Not at the past.
Outside, the sky was overcast but open wide and gray and waiting.
For the first time in years, she didn’t know what came next.
But for the first time, that didn’t terrify her.
She took a deep breath, let the cold air fill her lungs, and whispered to herself,
“Goodbye, Mrs. Reece.”
Then she walked away.
- Writer
