My birthday happens to be the anniversary of his first love’s death. The man who always acts so polite and composed in front of others turned into a raging beast, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me as he screamed: “You wretch! Why wasn’t it you who died back then?” Later, I suffered a miscarriage, lost my mother, and was left with no one. I gave him what he wanted—a divorce. But then, he regretted it. In the pouring rain, he knelt at my feet, begging me to come back. I was pregnant. Clutching the ultrasound report in my hand, I felt no joy—only a heavy, sinking despair. This child was a mistake. I walked out of the hospital in a daze, my mind flashing back to that night three months ago. Three years into our marriage, William Blake and I had lived more like strangers than a couple. If he hadn’t gotten drunk that night—mumbling the name of his late first love, Sophie Winters—he would never have touched me. I still remember the way he kissed me so roughly, all while calling out Sophie’s name. The memory stung, and the sharp ringing in my ears forced me to press my hands against them, trying to block it out. My heart ached so much it felt like it was being torn apart. My gaze dropped to the report in my hands. What would William say if he knew I was pregnant? Would he be happy? I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head. No. He’d probably hate me even more—for daring to carry a child when his heart was still fixated on someone who was gone. “Mom, I want that cake!” “You don’t need cake. We’re having dinner at home!” The sound of a mother arguing with her child near a bakery caught my attention, and I stopped in my tracks. Through the glass window, I stared at the rows of beautiful cakes, suddenly remembering that today was my birthday. I used to look forward to my birthday every year. I thought back to our first year of marriage. Out of guilt, William had thrown me a grand birthday party. That night, he stayed until midnight, cutting the cake with me and even singing me a birthday song. Back then, Sophie was still alive. Smiling bitterly, I walked into the bakery, bought myself a cake, and carried it home. At the dining table, I lit the candles on the cake and sat there, waiting for William to return. But by the time the sun set and the clock struck nine, he still wasn’t home. Staring at the cake, I reached out and dipped my finger into the frosting, tasting it. It was sweet, but all I could feel was bitterness. The corner of my mouth twitched into a self-deprecating smile. Click— The sound of the door unlocking made me look up. William walked in, reeking of alcohol. His cheeks were flushed, his white shirt stained with red wine, his hair slightly messy. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. The moment he saw me, his brows furrowed, and his voice was cold: “What are you doing here?” He turned his head and glanced at the cake on the table. His eyes flickered, and I noticed his hands clench into fists. The wedding ring that should’ve been on his finger was gone. “Joanna! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” He stormed toward me, his voice full of anger. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, and I instinctively took a step back. With a wave of his hand, he knocked the cake off the table. The loud crash startled me, and I froze, staring at the shattered cake on the floor. It wasn’t just the cake that had been smashed—it felt like my heart had shattered, too. “You knew today was Sophie’s death anniversary! Why did you buy a cake? What were you trying to prove? And to think you used to be her best friend!” “You’re so cruel!” he shouted, his voice filled with venom. “She completely misjudged you. I never should’ve married you!” Maybe it was the alcohol, but his words cut deeper than usual. They were harsher, more honest. Fighting back tears, I replied calmly, “William, today is my birthday.” “So what?” His voice was icy, stabbing straight through me. “She’s dead, and you’re still alive.” “You’ll have countless birthdays, but Sophie will never have another one.” “It’s all my fault. I should’ve never come back for your stupid birthday last year. I should’ve stayed with her.” “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault…” I let out a hollow laugh as his words echoed in my ears. All because last year, he’d come home to celebrate my birthday, he hadn’t been able to see Sophie one last time before she died. She had died on my birthday, of all days. Clutching my chest as the pain grew unbearable, I placed a hand on my slightly swollen belly, remembering the doctor’s warning: Don’t get upset. Avoid emotional stress. But how could I not? William’s cold eyes bore into me as he sneered: “Joanna, don’t you dare get your hopes up.” “A manipulative woman like you? I could never love you. Ever. If you want to celebrate your birthday, do it somewhere else. Get out of my sight.” With that, he slammed the door and left, leaving me standing there, utterly defeated. But you know what, William? I celebrate my birthday every year just so I can see you. All I wanted was to spend a little more time with you. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at my stomach and whispered to myself: “Joanna, he’ll never love you. He’ll never love your child…” “Ma’am, should I clean this up?” My housekeeper, May, spoke hesitantly, not even daring to breathe too loudly. I froze for a moment before replying, “Yes, clean it up.” I tossed the ultrasound report onto the melted frosting. “And throw this away too.”
I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. Reaching into the drawer, I grabbed a few pills and swallowed them dry before picking up my phone, which had been vibrating non-stop. “Hello?” “Joanna! Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you,” a frantic voice said on the other end. “Your mom suddenly went into shock. Her surgery has to be moved up, but I can’t get in touch with Dr. Blake. Is he home? Can you get him here right away?” My mind went blank. Throwing on a coat, I raced downstairs, searching every room in the house, but William was nowhere to be found. I called him over and over again, even as I jumped into a cab and started going to all the places he might be. Ten calls. No answer. I arrived at the hospital, and a nurse ran up to me, her face full of worry. “Joanna! Where’s Dr. Blake?” My lips trembled, and my face went pale. “He… he’s not here yet?” “Where’s my mom? I want to see her! Take me to her right now!” “Please, someone else can do the surgery!” The nurse hesitated, guilt flashing across her face. “All the other doctors are in surgery right now. Your mom… it all happened so suddenly.” My heart pounded in my chest as dread consumed me. Through the glass of the emergency room, I could see two doctors trying desperately to save my mom. She lay there, completely still, a breathing tube in her mouth. She looked so weak, so fragile—it broke me. Just yesterday, she’d texted me to wish me a happy birthday. Now, tears streamed down my face as I pounded on the glass. “Please! Save her! She’s all I have left!” “Joanna, calm down! Please!” The nurse grabbed me, trying to pull me away. Suddenly, the door to the operating room burst open, and William rushed in, sweat dripping down his face. He was already wearing a surgical cap, moving with urgency as he entered the room. He picked up the scalpel, but before he could make the first incision, the heart monitor let out a terrible, high-pitched sound. Beep— The faint hope I’d been clinging to disappeared in an instant. On the monitor, the once-erratic lines flattened into a single, endless line. That line was the wall that now separated me and my mom forever. “Mom!” I collapsed to the floor, clutching my chest as if the grief would suffocate me. I felt something wet against my left hand, which was resting on the ground. Looking down, I saw bright red blood trailing down my legs and pooling on the floor. “Joanna! Blood—there’s blood!” the nurse screamed. A sharp pain shot through my body, and everything went black.
William Blake, Sophie Winters, and I all met in high school. But unlike me, William and Sophie had known each other since they were kids. Sophie, delicate and perpetually ill, was like porcelain. Everyone thought they were the perfect couple. But their love story didn’t end like the fairy tales. When William graduated from college, Sophie broke up with him. He waited outside her house for several nights, hoping she’d change her mind. But she didn’t. She eventually collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. I’ll never forget the way William clung to her hand, his voice trembling as if he was terrified she would disappear. “Sophie, please don’t leave me. I love you. I went to med school for you. Please, just give me more time—I’ll figure out how to cure you. I promise.” Sophie, struggling to stay awake, gently wiped the tears from his eyes. “William, I know my body. I don’t have much time left.” “I know your parents don’t approve of us. I know they’re pressuring you to get married.” “Promise me… promise me you’ll be with Joanna. I know she likes you.” Hearing my name fall from her lips, I froze. It was as if a deeply buried secret had been dragged into the light. I felt exposed, raw. Panic bubbled inside me, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear. I had never expected Sophie to notice the feelings I had tried so hard to hide. From the moment I met William in high school, I had secretly fallen for him—this boy who didn’t belong to me. I envied Sophie. She had his love, his attention, his unfailing gentleness. In the end, she chose to give him to me. But in doing so, she pushed me into a pit I would never escape from. I can still hear her voice, her trembling words as she held my hand. “Joanna, promise me you’ll love William for me.” There was a pleading look in her eyes, and I thought about the years I had spent quietly yearning for him. So I promised her. “Don’t worry, Sophie. I’ll take care of him.” But I regret it now. I should’ve listened to you, Mom. I should’ve never reached for something that wasn’t mine. It’s my fault. It’s my fault you’re gone.
The sharp smell of alcohol in the air stung my nose as I slowly opened my eyes. Looking around, I realized I was alone in the hospital room. “You’re awake?” The curtain was pulled back, and there he was—William Blake. His face was pale, his exhaustion evident. “Where’s my mom?” I asked calmly, my voice steady, but the question made his pupils tremble. He avoided my gaze and lowered his head. “Where is she? William, where is my mom?” I sat up abruptly, grabbing his shirt collar, my voice breaking as I shouted at him. “Joanna, you need to rest,” he said, his voice soft but heavy. “You need to recover so you can prepare for the funeral. Your mom… she’s gone.” Slap! The sound of my hand striking his face echoed through the room. “William Blake! You’re shameless!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. “Where were you? I called you ten times! Ten times! Why didn’t you answer? Where the hell were you?” “I…” He opened his mouth but stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Then it hit me, and I laughed bitterly. “You were with her, weren’t you?” His body stiffened, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at me. “You think I don’t know?” I asked, tears blurring my vision. “Do you know what people think of us? They think we’re a happy couple, newly married and in love.” “But I know the truth.” My voice cracked as I continued, “You bought a house for Sophie, didn’t you? You decorated it like it was your dream home with her.” “All those nights you didn’t come home—you were staying there, weren’t you?” “Why, William? Why would you do this to me? You should’ve never married me!” “Give me back my mom! Give her back to me!” I pounded my fists against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, my cries so loud they drew the attention of the nurses. His bloodshot eyes stayed on me the entire time, and he grabbed my wrists tightly, refusing to let go. “And what about you, Joanna?” he said, his voice low and trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” “If you had told me…” I let out a hollow laugh, looking up as tears rolled down my cheeks. “And what difference would it have made, William? Did you forget what you said to me yesterday?” “You told me not to have any delusions. Well, I listened to you.” “The baby’s gone,” I said, my voice cold. “Isn’t that better for you?” “You…” His brows furrowed as his grip on my wrist tightened, the pressure leaving red marks on my skin. Finally, he let go, his voice softening. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time I’d ever heard him apologize. “I’m sorry, Joanna. This is all my fault.” I stared down at the damp bedsheets under my knees, refusing to look at him. “I’m tired, William,” I said quietly. “Loving you is exhausting. Let’s get a divorce.”
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