Chapter 3 - The Third Pregnancy
I had thought I understood guilt.
I had been wrong.
There is a kind of guilt that comes from making a bad decision.
There is another kind that comes from discovering the damage after it is too late to undo it.
That was the kind sitting inside my chest.
Sophie stared at the floor.
Dr. Brooks gave us a moment.
I couldn't take it.
“What happened?”
Sophie swallowed.
“I was late.”
“When?”
“Before you asked for the divorce.”
My hands went numb.
She continued quietly.
“I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure.”
“You should have told me.”
Her head snapped up.
“And you should have answered the phone.”
I had no defense.
She looked away again.
“I took three tests.”
“Three?”
“The first one was positive.”
Her voice shook.
“So was the second.”
She drew a breath.
“By the third, I was sitting on the bathroom floor because I couldn't make myself feel happy.”
I pictured our bathroom.
The same room where our first nightmare had begun.
“Why didn't you tell me that night?”
“You came home at eleven-thirty.”
I remembered.
There had been an operations meeting.
“You were on your laptop during dinner.”
I remembered that too.
“I told myself I'd tell you the next morning.”
Her fingers twisted together.
“But the next morning you left before six.”
I closed my eyes.
The memories arrived one after another.
Briefings.
Reports.
Early departures.
Late returns.
All the things I had once called responsibilities.
All the places I had hidden.
“Two days later,” Sophie said, “you told me you wanted a divorce.”
I opened my eyes.
She was crying now.
Not loudly.
Sophie never cried loudly.
“I thought maybe you were right.”
“Sophie.”
“I thought maybe this baby was going to disappear too.”
Her mouth trembled.
“And when it did, I'd have to watch you disappear again.”
I leaned forward.
“What do you mean when it did?”
Dr. Brooks answered.
“Sophie began bleeding shortly afterward.”
I felt sick.
“The pregnancy wasn't developing normally.”
“Another miscarriage?”
“Not exactly.”
Dr. Brooks turned the tablet so I could see a scan.
I didn't understand the image.
I understood her face.
“There was abnormal tissue.”
Sophie spoke before the doctor could continue.
“They thought it was another failed pregnancy.”
Her voice became flat.
“But my hormone levels didn't return to normal.”
Dr. Brooks nodded.
“That was the first warning.”
I looked at Sophie.
“The week before the divorce hearing?”
“Yes.”
“That was what you called about?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
She took a breath.
“The first voicemail was about the blood test.”
My stomach tightened.
“The second was after the ultrasound.”
I couldn't speak.
“The third was when they told me they wanted more scans.”
She looked directly at me.
“The fourth was because I was scared.”
I remembered deleting four voicemails without listening.
Not one.
Four.
“I thought giving you space was the right thing.”
Sophie gave me a tired smile.
“You always had a name for running away.”
I deserved that.
I deserved worse.
Dr. Brooks shifted gently.
“We need to discuss treatment.”
I forced myself to focus.
“What are her chances?”
Sophie turned toward the window.
Dr. Brooks answered carefully.
“This disease can be aggressive.”
My heart stopped.
“But it is also one of the more treatable malignancies when managed appropriately.”
“How treatable?”
“Very.”
I breathed for the first time in several seconds.
Then Dr. Brooks added something that wiped the relief away.
“Sophie has delayed treatment twice.”
I turned to her.
“Why?”
Sophie didn't answer.
May you like
Dr. Brooks did.
“Because she was trying to handle it alone.”
