My head is spinning, trying to process all the eventsfrom last night. Brad still has not called me back, nor sent even a text to check in. I lost my baby.. I dreamed of bringing my new baby home, greeting Presley at the door while my mom stood behind her, taking photos of Pres meeting her new sibling. Something that won’t be happening now. I never imagined this outcome.
I’m not sure what this will mean for our marriage. It doesn’t exactly bode well for him at the moment. I look down at my bare ring finger, the place where my wedding band and engagement ring usually sit. They put my rings in a little bag before they took me back for the procedure and I have yet to put them back on.
A key clicks in the front door, alerting me to Megan and Presley’s arrival. I’m excited to see my baby girl, and hope maybe she can help ease some of my pain.
“Megan? Presley?” I call when there isn’t the familiarity of Presley’s energy through the house. Instead, I’m greeted with heavy footsteps.
Brad appears in my line of sight, dressed in his suit and tie, like he’s heading to work. “Brad?” I ask, my voice breaking in relief.He came.He cares. All my previous negative thoughts of him fly out the window as I shift to a sitting position. He must have rushed home the second he saw my message that I was in the hospital, right?
“Fallon, what are you doing here?” Brad retorts, his voice almost… accusatory. I sit further forward on the couch, unwrapping myself from the blanket.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I inhale a shaky breath. “I tried calling you, tried texting you. You didn’t come home to see me? To help me?”
“God, you’re so lazy. You can’t even be bothered to get off the couch and do anything. No wonder why you can’t lose all the extra weight.” Brad scoffs, his facewrinkled in disgust as he takes in my appearance. Where did this come from? What is he talking about? I mean, I know I have gained a lot of weight since having Pres, and he’s mentioned dieting and working out a few times, but is now really the time to bring it up?
“Brad, I… I was in the hospital last night.”
“I met someone else.” He speaks over me, running one hand through his hair, the other he holds up in front of him, halting me from speaking more. My gaze falls to his left hand. He isn’t wearing his wedding ring.
His words strike me. A painful ache spears through my heart, like a bullet being torn through the muscle with no exit wound.
“Oh,” I respond lamely, because what does a person say to that? Has he even processed that I told him I was in the hospital? Something he should have known after reading the text messages I sent him?
“Her name is Trixie. We met on a business trip last year. We’ve decided we want to be together.”
Only then do I notice the empty duffle bags at his feet.
It’s like my brain can’t process any words he’s saying. I only recognize the empty bags at his feet. “Why are the bags empty? What are you doing? I—Brad, what is happening?”
He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I can’t believe I need to lay this out for you,” he mumbles under his breath. “Fallon, I’m leaving you.”
“But I need you, Presley needs you.” I clutch at my stomach, the place where our baby was only hours ago, and is now empty. “I had a miscarriage, Brad.”
Brad doesn’t seem surprised or even hurt by this news. He simply nods. “It’s better that way.”
“It’sbetterthat way?” I shriek. “How is it better? I’m being ripped apart piece by piece. My body aches, hurtsfrom the loss of my baby, my heart is cracked wide open, and now my husband is telling me he’s leaving me for someone else. How is thatbetter?”
“It’s better, because now you only have to be a lackluster parent to one child. I never should have agreed to get you pregnant again. Not after seeing the way you are with Presley. She’s too dependent on you. I can’t stand how whiny she is; you made her that way. She’s just like you.”
“She’s four!” I shout, my throat burning against the words. How could he say such cruel things of his own flesh and blood—his own daughter? “Of course she’s going to whine and be dependent on her mother! I’m a stay-at-home mom, I spend every hour of every day with her. I love her more than anyone. How can you say these things, Brad?”
“Exactly,” Brad says through gritted teeth. He’s unbearably calm. “You loved her more than you ever loved me. Shouldn’t you love your husband more? You should have chosen me!”
I don’t speak, don’t even know what to say. Am I really that horrible of a mother that I pushed away my own husband?
“You’ll hear from my lawyers.” With that, he grabs the bags at his feet, and heads down the hall to our bedroom. My bedroom.
I hear the opening and closing of drawers and closet doors but choose to shut my brain off. His footsteps come closer until he steps in front of me. He doesn’t say anything as he leaves his wedding ring on the coffee table and throws his duffle over his shoulder.
Once he’s gone, I break again. Tears stream down my cheeks in rivulets. He’s right. I could have paid more attention to him and been a better wife. I could have done more, been there for him more. I could have lost weight, couldhave… I can’t even list all of the things I could have done, because now, I lost my chance.
I rise from the couch and slowly walk through the house. My body aches with even the smallest of movements. Every step is a reminder of the loss of my baby, of the way my life just changed so drastically. My heart no longer feels as though it’s being shredded from the inside out. Now, it’s empty. Like a shell.
I make my way into the bedroom, to where there is still the faint scent of his cologne. I slowly get into the bed, which I’ve never slept comfortably in after Brad insisted we buy a memory foam mattress. Pulling the covers up over my head, I start to sob.
Megan and Presley arrive home shortly after, having stopped somewhere to pick up breakfast. I put on a brave face for my daughter and best friend, only breaking down later in my best friend's arms.
I pretend it’s all a dream. Maybe it’s a horrible nightmare, one I’ll wake up from and roll over to find my husband still in bed with me, cradling me in his arms. He’ll kiss me on the head, and splay his hand over my stomach, caressing where our baby grows inside me.
