Broken Heels and Bitter Truths Chapter 2

A year ago. The first snowstorm of the season.

I was walking to the train after work. The drop in temperature had been sudden, catching the city completely off guard. The sidewalks were a sheet of black ice beneath a dusting of white.

I slipped.

It was just a fall. But the sheer volume of blood that followed was terrifying. Against the pristine white snow of the pavement, the bright, violent red was blinding.

Bystanders and a coworker who had been walking behind me panicked. I laid there, entirely numb, save for a heavy, agonizing pulling sensation in my lower abdomen.

The ambulance took me to Northwestern Memorial. The ER doctor looked at me with a mix of clinical detachment and pity.

"You're miscarrying," she said. "Did you know you were pregnant?"

I shook my head, the room spinning.

I tried to call Devin. It went straight to voicemail.

My parents had retired to Florida. Devin’s parents were on a cruise somewhere in the Mediterranean.

When the nurses told me I needed a family member to sign the consent forms for the D&C procedure, I dialed Devin's number again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

In the end, with a shaking, bloodless hand, I signed the surgical forms myself.

Hours after the surgery, as I lay staring at the ceiling of my recovery room, my phone buzzed. A single text from Devin.

On a business trip.

Three days later, I was discharged.

While waiting for the elevator, I overheard two nurses whispering at the station.

"Did you see the guy in the VIP oncology suite? What’s his name?"

"Oh, he's a big deal," the other replied. "CEO of some tech firm. Devin Frost."

"He is incredibly handsome. Does he have a ring?"

"He's got a girlfriend. That older man he’s pushing around the courtyard in the wheelchair? That's his future father-in-law."

I felt the floor drop out from under me.

When I walked out into the main lobby, I saw him. Devin was standing near the entrance, flanked by the hospital's chief of oncology and a team of specialists. Standing right beside Devin, looking up at him with tearful gratitude, was Ella.

He hadn't been on a business trip.

While I was bleeding out our child on an operating table, he had gone completely off the grid to secure top-tier medical care for his ex-girlfriend's parents.