The Final Blow

Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes, the blinding light of the hospital room made me squint. My body felt heavy, and an ache spread across my abdomen. As I slowly sat up, the thin hospital gown brushed against my skin, and that’s when I saw it—the stitches running down my stomach.

Panic gripped me as the memories came rushing back. The crash, the voices, the sirens… the words of the doctor: “The baby didn’t survive.”

“No!” I screamed, my voice raw and filled with anguish. “Where’s my baby?!” I clawed at the covers, yanking them off as if the baby would magically appear underneath. My breathing grew ragged as I screamed louder, tears streaming down my face.

A nurse rushed into the room, her eyes wide with concern. “Ma’am, please calm down! You’ve been through a lot—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shouted, clutching my stomach. “Where is my baby? Where is my child?!”

The nurse placed her hands gently on my shoulders, her voice steady but soft. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for your loss. You need to rest. Your body is still healing.”

I broke down, my sobs filling the room. My baby… gone. I’d carried that child for months, felt every kick, every movement. And now? Nothing. Just an empty void and a cruel scar to remind me of what I’d lost.

After what felt like an eternity, my cries quieted, replaced by a hollow numbness. The nurse handed me a glass of water and sat beside me.

“We’ve been trying to reach your husband,” she said carefully, as if testing my reaction. “But he hasn’t answered our calls.”

I froze, her words slicing through me like a blade. Jason hadn’t come? Not once?

“How… how long have I been here?” I croaked, my throat dry.

The nurse hesitated before answering. “You’ve been unconscious for a month, ma’am.”

A month.

My heart sank as I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, my fingers trembling. The calendar confirmed it. Thirty days had passed since the crash, and Jason hadn’t even bothered to visit.

I scoffed bitterly, dialing his number. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

The first words out of his mouth were like a dagger to my chest: “You’re alive.”

I clenched the phone tightly. “You didn’t even come to see me?” I asked, my voice low but trembling with anger. “I was in an accident, Jason. I lost our baby.”

There was a pause before his cold, indifferent voice replied, “You’re of no use to me anymore. The baby’s gone. I don’t have a reason to see you.”

My breath hitched as his words sank in. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone cruel and dismissive. “You couldn’t even protect our child. You’re a murderer, Andrea.”

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered, my voice shaking with rage. “Don’t you dare put this on me! It’s your fault, Jason! You’re the one who—”

“Enough,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “My lawyer will bring the divorce papers. Sign them. After that, I’ll have your things packed and sent to you. I don’t want to see you again.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, disbelief and fury coursing through me. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of love, sacrifice, and loyalty, all thrown away as if it meant nothing. My baby was gone, my marriage was over, and Jason had the audacity to blame me for everything.

Tears burned my eyes as I clenched the phone in my hands. My chest heaved, the pain too much to bear. He’d betrayed me, abandoned me, and now he was leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my life.

“Jason,” I whispered, my voice filled with venom. “You’ll regret this.”

The door creaked open, and the doctor walked in, clipboard in hand. His expression was calm but unreadable. I could tell he was used to delivering bad news, and that thought alone made my chest tighten.

“Andrea,” he began, his tone soft yet firm, “I’m glad to see you’re awake. We need to discuss your condition.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers clutching the thin blanket covering me. “Just tell me,” I whispered, my voice hollow.

He nodded, glancing at the clipboard before meeting my eyes. “During the accident, the impact caused significant internal injuries. Your uterus was severely damaged.”

My heart started pounding. “What… what does that mean?” I asked, though deep down, I already knew.

He hesitated, but only for a moment. “It means you won’t be able to conceive again. I’m so sorry, Andrea.”

The words hit me like a freight train, knocking the air out of my lungs. My entire body went cold as I tried to process what he’d just said.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “No, you’re wrong. There has to be a mistake. I’ll get a second opinion. There’s no way—”

“Andrea,” he interrupted gently but firmly, “I understand this is difficult, but I assure you, the damage is irreversible. Your body needs time to heal, and pushing yourself right now won’t help.”

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, tracing the outline of the stitches beneath the hospital gown. First my baby, now my future… everything was gone.

“This can’t be happening,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “This can’t be my life.”

The doctor sighed, his gaze sympathetic. “I’ll leave you to rest. If you need anything, the nurses are just a call away.”

He left the room quietly, but his words remained, echoing in my mind like a cruel taunt.

“No more children…” I whispered, my voice breaking. The pain in my chest felt unbearable, as though the very essence of my being had been stripped away.

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. My mind replayed Jason’s cold words over and over: “You’re of no use to me anymore.”

This wasn’t just the end of my marriage; it was the end of the life I had envisioned for myself. Everything I had sacrificed, everything I had endured—for him, for our family—was now meaningless.

Through my tears, a bitter thought emerged, clear and unyielding: Jason had taken everything from me. But he wouldn’t get away with it not when i am still alive !