Jenna gasped, clearly not expecting to be discovered. She scrambled to compose herself, her words tumbli
ng out in a rush.
‘Claire, don’t get the wrong idea! After the fever broke last night, I was still worried, so I brought him to the
ER for a proper check-up.”
She gestured around the crowded room. “They’re swamped, there are no private rooms. They’re just putting patients wherever they can fit them. I had no idea Thomas was in the same cubicle.”
‘I know you don’t like me,” she finished, her voice laced with false sincerity. “As soon as my son wakes up, I’l ask a nurse to move us. I won’t cause any more trouble for you two.”
Just as she’d said, a small boy was asleep in the adjacent bed, his cheeks flushed. Jenna’s performance was lawless-the concerned mother, the considerate neighbor, the innocent bystander.
Before I could even speak, Thomas jumped to her defense.
‘Jenna, the boy needs his rest. Don’t trouble yourself. If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.
We both know we’re innocent…”
Suddenly, the fight drained out of me. It all felt so pointless. The scathing words I had prepared died on my tongue. I let out a cold, humorless laugh.
“You’re right. You’ve done nothing wrong…”
My voice dripped with a loathing so thick it was almost tangible. “I just find you filthy. And that’s why I want a
divorce.”
The color drained from Thomas’s face. He stared at me, his expression a mask of profound disappointment. “Claire, how long are you going to drag out this petty nonsense?” he pleaded.
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“All I did was give a sick child a box of Tylenol…”
His voice rose, cracking with desperation and rage. “Is this because you can’t have children of your own? Is that it? You can’t stand to see anyone else with a healthy kid?”
He’d gone too far. The words, flung in the heat of the moment, hung in the air like poison. A friend standing nearby shoved him hard. “Thomas, what the hell is wrong with you? That’s too much.”
Realization dawned on his face. He looked at my hands, which were shaking uncontrollably, and his eyes
filled with regret.
“Claire… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up…”
Five years ago, Thomas made a rookie mistake during surgery. A premature baby didn’t survive. The father broken by grief, came to the hospital with a knife, looking for revenge.
I had just arrived to bring Thomas his dinner.
In the ensuing chaos, Thomas grabbed me and used me as a shield.
A long paring knife pierced my abdomen. The baby I had been carrying for three months was gone. My uter us was so severely damaged that I could never have children again.
Afterward, Thomas had knelt by my hospital bed, slapping his own face until it was bruised, his body wrack ed with gut-wrenching sobs.
‘Claire, it’s all my fault. I’m a monster. How could I…” he’d choked out between tears. “I swear, I’ll spend the ‘est of my life making it up to you. We don’t need kids. I only need you.”
Now, those words were nothing but a bitter joke.
My silence seemed to terrify him more than any outburst. He ripped the IV needle from his arm, ignoring the protests of the nurses, and stumbled toward me. He collapsed at my feet, his voice a desperate plea. “Clai e… it was a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean it… Please, I’m begging you, don’t divorce me. I can’t imagine my ife without you. What would be the point?”
For a fleeting moment, I was transported back five years, to that hospital room. The scene was almost ident-
cal.
The only difference was me.
My face was a mask of ice. I kicked him squarely in the chest. “Get off me.”
“And don’t ever call me that again. It makes me sick.”
“Sign the divorce papers, or don’t. I have a thousand ways to ruin your life. Go ahead and test me.”
With that, I turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance. Halfway down the hall, I stripped
off the jacket he had touched and threw it in a biohazard bin.
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As I stepped out of the hospital, I heard someone call my name.
It was Lily, a new friend from my apartment building.
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Chapter 2
