Chapter 8
That night, he came home past midnight, reeking of perfume and booze.
When I nervously handed him the investment plan my dad pushed on me, his eyes blazed with disgust.
He shoved me down on the couch and tore apart my clothes. The memory splintered.
His frantic bites and my sobs of pain still haunted me to this day. My blood flowed freely, spreading across and soaking the carpet. Only then did he come to his senses.
The entire process from learning about the pregnancy to the loss took only half a day.
“I heard what the doctor said, even though you told him to lie to me,” I said, stopping at his complicated expression. “Maybe we loved each other once, but we missed our chance. Looking back, it’s just pain. Is it worth going on?”
He didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, and his head hung low.
After what felt like forever, he walked out and carefully closed the door behind him.
Days later, I was single again, finally reclaiming the freedom I had long lost.
Word came from Mistormere that all my paintings were bought for a fortune. My account swelled overnight.
The next time I heard about Chad was half a month later.
Back when he stayed out all night, I’d keep the TV on. The noise had made the empty house feel less hollow.
I had constant nightmares then, waking to bad news like a crash from speeding or some scandal fit for tabloids.
Now, hearing his mom’s sobs on the phone, I thought dreams sometimes carried omens.
“For the ties between our families and you guys, come see him at the hospital,” she pleaded.
My heart raced on the way as I imagined every scenario, like arriving too late and hearing wails outside the ward.
But the room was silent. Chad, wrapped tight in bandages, looked at me calmly.
“You’re here,” he muttered, quickly looking away to the window.
Sunlight poured in, warming the white sheets.
His voice was flat and emotionless as he continued, “In the past couple of weeks, hit the clubs like before. Got drunk but drove fast. I went through different women, but weirdly, none of them felt as good as before.”
I checked my watch. There was less than an hour before my gallery signing. Considering the traffic, I’d need to leave in ten minutes.
Parking there was tricky. Maybe I should leave right away.
“Are you zoning out?” he asked.
I snapped back and felt a flash of embarrassment. “What were you saying?”
He looked at me. His old cockiness was gone, replaced by loneliness.
“Heather was a lot like you, but she’d stare at me so hard it made me squirm,” he muttered. “My eyes kept drifting to you, catching your shy glances, like you were as guilty as me.”
His words tugged me back to years ago. Our trio always had that vibe.
