Chapter 2
1094 Words
The first thing I became aware of was the beeping.
Steady. Rhythmic. Like a heartbeat that wasn't my own.
My eyes were heavy, weighted down by something I couldn't name. I tried to open them.
The room came into focus slowly. White ceiling. White walls. Machines beside my bed with numbers I didn't understand.
The smell of antiseptic. A doctor was standing over me, his fingers pressed against the inside of my wrist.
He was older, with gray streaking his dark hair. His expression was serious in a way that made my stomach clench.
"Welcome back," he said, releasing my wrist.
"You gave us quite a scare."
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. The words came out as a whisper.
"My husband. Where's Damian?"
The doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse standing beside him. The nurse looked away first.
"He brought you in and left about an hour ago," the doctor said carefully.
"Said he had urgent business to attend to."
I didn't think much about it. I turned my face away from the doctor, toward the window. Outside, the city was going about its day. People walking. Cars moving. Life continues like mine wasn't falling apart.
"Ms. Ashford." The doctor's voice pulled me back.
"I need you to sign some paperwork. And I want you to take these medications regularly. Your blood pressure is dangerously high. You need to manage your stress."
He handed me a folder and a pen. I stared at both without really seeing them. My hand moved mechanically, signing my name on documents I didn't read.
The doctor watched me sign. When I finished, he placed the folder on the small table beside my bed.
"I want to see you in my office before you leave," he said.
"We need to talk about your health. The baby's health."
I nodded without looking at him.
Two hours later, I was sitting in his office. The space was small, cluttered with medical journals and photographs of his family.
I stared at a picture of him with his wife. They were smiling. His arm was around her. The kind of photograph that documented a life together.
I looked away.
The doctor came in and closed the door behind him. He moved to his desk and gestured to the chair beside it. I was already sitting there, but he gestured anyway like he needed the ritual of it.
He took a deep breath and settled into his own chair. For a long moment, he just looked at me. His eyes were kind, which somehow made it worse.
"What's happening, Sienna?" His voice was gentle.
"Your blood pressure readings say that you're under extreme stress. The fainting episode, the elevated vitals these aren't things that happen without a reason. Can you tell me what's going on?"
I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, everything would come pouring out.
The affair. The betrayal. The knowledge that my husband was creating a child with my secretary while I carried his child.
The realization that I'd been blind enough to miss all of it.
I shook my head.
The doctor leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his temples like he was tired. Maybe he was.
Maybe he’d seen this before. Women sitting where I was, pretending they were fine.
"Please," he said.
"Take care of yourself. Your baby needs you to be healthy. Whatever is happening in your life, whatever stress you're carrying, you need to find a way to put it down. At least for now, until you deliver."
"Thank you," I said. The words felt hollow.
I stood up. The conversation was over. There was nothing more to say.
The sun was harsh when I walked out of the hospital building. I hadn't called anyone. Hadn't arranged for a ride. I just walked, my hand moving instinctively to my belly, feeling the baby move inside me.
He was alive. At least there was that.
As I walked, memories began surfacing. Things I'd pushed aside, things I'd convinced myself didn't mean anything.
Our anniversary. Three weeks ago.
I'd waited for him all evening. Candles lit. Dinner prepared. I was seven months pregnant and exhausted, but I'd still done it. Still tried. Still believed that showing up mattered.
He never came home.
The next morning, he walked into my office like nothing had happened. His hands were full with flowers, a velvet gift box. The kind of grand gesture that was supposed to erase everything.
I remembered exactly how it felt when he handed me the bouquet.
"I'm so sorry about yesterday," he'd said, his voice sincere in a way that almost sounded real.
"I got caught up with work. I should have called."
The flowers smelled like regret, but they were his regret, not genuine remorse. They were a performance. I'd accepted them anyway because that's what I did. I accepted the performances. I told myself they meant something.
Then Nora had walked in.
I could see her now, as clearly as if it was happening again. She'd looked at the flowers in my hands, then at Damian, then back at me.
"Wow," she'd said, and her voice had that edge to it, that knowing quality.
"These are beautiful. You look beautiful, Sienna."
I smiled at her. While my husband looked at her, and she looked at him, I was too naive to see what was happening right in front of my face.
"Thank you," I'd said.
Then Damian had turned to her. His expression shifted. Became softer. The way he looked at her was different. It was the way I wanted him to look at me.
"I bought you something too," he'd said.
He pulled out a small box. Velvet. Black. Expensive.
Nora had opened it with shaking hands. A necklace. Delicate. Gold. Beautiful.
"Oh my God," she inhaled.
"You bought this for me?"
She'd looked at me, maybe she was showing me that she could have things I couldn't.
"Can you help me wear it?" she'd asked him.
She'd turned around, lifting her hair away from her neck. Damian had moved behind her, his fingers gentle as he'd fastened the necklace.
I watched him do it. Watched his hands touch her skin. I watched her close her eyes like his touch meant something.
My hand had been shaking. I'd been holding a pen, and it had slipped from my fingers. It had landed on Damian's hand just as he was
adjusting the necklace. The necklace had fallen.
He turned to me. His face turned cold. Furious.
"How dare you?"
- Writer
