He Held Her Hand While I Lost Our Baby,So I Married Someone Else

The day before our engagement party, I was in a multi-car pileup. So was Rosamund Gilbert, Owen Matthews's so-called girl best friend.

I was lying in the ER, drenched in my own blood, when a WhatsApp message from Owen lit up my screen

Rosie got scared by all the blood and fainted. I need to stay with her while she gets her IV.

She hasn't been doing well lately, and she can't handle any more stress. Let's cancel the engagement party tomorrow.

Figure out something to tell both families. Just make sure it doesn't upset RosieTell them you changed your mind for now.

I stared at the forms the doctor had just placed in front of me. An induced-labor consent form. A critical-condition notice.

Through the blinding pain tearing through my abdomen, I typed back a single word

Fine.

This wedding was one I truly wouldn't live to see.

Almost instantly, Rosamund posted on Instagram.

The photo showed a bowl of peeled shrimp, a hand wearing an engagement ring, and the backdrop of a private hospital suite.

The caption read

He told me that no matter what happens, I'll always be his first priority.

In the comments, Owen's friends were falling over themselves with likes, calling him the perfect man.

I let out a bitter laugh, pressed my hand against my now-flat stomach, and liked the post.

Then I left a commentWishing you both a lifetime of happiness!

Ms. Summers, is your family still not here?

A nurse stood at the foot of my bed, holding a stack of forms. There was pity in her eyes.

The anesthesia from the procedure is wearing off, and you're still in the critical observation window.

These forms have to be signed by a family member.

I stared up at the harsh fluorescent light on the ceiling. My vision blurred.

There's no family.

I'll sign them myself.

I braced my half-numb body and tried to sit up.

A tearing pain ripped through my abdomen.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

The nurse grabbed me before I could fall back.

Don't move.

You lost so much blood during the surgery, we almost didn't bring you back.

She handed me the pen and pointed to the blank lines on the forms.

Here. And here.

I gripped the pen.

My fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

The tip touched the paper and left a crooked trail of ink.

Induced-Labor Consent Form.

Critical-Condition Notice.

Discharge Risk Acknowledgment.

I finished writing my name on each one.

My phone buzzed against the pillow.

Owen's name flashed across the screen.

I answered.

Did you smooth things over with both families yet?

Owen's voice came through the speaker.

Not yet, I said.

What do you mean, not yet?

A note of irritation crept into his voice.

Rosie just saw a text from my mom and thought we were fighting. She panicked so hard she ripped the IV right out of her hand.

She's terrified of blood. The second she saw it on the back of her hand, she started crying again.

Can you just handle this? Get it under control?

It's just the back of her hand bleeding, right? I asked.

There was a pause on the other end. When Owen spoke again, his voice had dropped.

What's that supposed to mean?

Roberta Summers, are you getting jealous again?

It was a chaotic crash scene. Rosie's a girl. Of course she was terrified.

You've always been so independent. Don't pick now to start making a scene, alright?

Independent.

I closed my eyes.

Because I was independent, I deserved to lie in the ER alone.

Deserved to hear him comforting another frightened woman while I clawed my way back from the edge of death.

Owen.

Which hospital are you at?

City Central. Why?

No reason.

I was at City Central too.

He was in the private suite on the top floor. I was in the ER on the first.

Post something in the family group chat. Now. Owen's voice was clipped, impatient.

Tell them you've been stressed at work, pre-wedding jitters, and you want to push the engagement party back.

Don't bring up Rosie. I don't need the relatives running their mouths.

I pressed my hand against my stomach. Flat now. Fine. Anything else?

Owen paused, caught off guard. His tone softened a fraction.

Bobbie, don't be too upset about all this.

Once Rosie's feeling better, I'll take you to pick out that wedding dress you liked.

I know today was hard on you.

I said nothing. I hung up.

Hard on me?

No. It wasn't hard on me.

I was just disgusted.

I opened WhatsApp and scrolled to the post Rosamund had just put up on social media.

A slender, pale hand wearing an engagement ring.

The ring Owen and I had picked out together.

Our initials were engraved on the inside of the band.

He'd said it was too much trouble, that since Rosamund liked the design, he'd just lend it to her for a while. Calm her down.

It's just a ring. I'll buy you a bigger one later.

I stared at the photo.

My fingertip hovered over the screen for a long time.

Then, slowly, I raised my left hand.

On my ring finger, a faint indentation circled the skin.

A plain band ring I'd bought myself. Three years I'd worn it.

I forced it off.

The metal edge scraped skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

I placed the ring on top of the induced-labor consent form, right over my signature.

The nurse froze when she came to collect the paperwork.

Ms. Summers, the ring

I don't want it.

I turned my head toward the window. The sky was a flat, colorless gray.

Put it toward the hospital bill.

Eight years.

And a child who never got to see the world.

All of it died in that moment.

Three days later, I signed the discharge papers.

The doctor told me to stay in bed, rest, and under no circumstances touch cold water.

I nodded, then took a cab back to the Riverview Apartment alone.

This was the place Owen and I had set up for after the wedding.

On the coffee table in the living room, an unopened box of wedding favors still sat waiting.

I pulled open the drawer beneath the table.

Inside was a thick binder of pre-wedding checklists.

Venue layout, guest list, every last detail in my handwriting.

Underneath the binder was a pink envelope folder.

I slid it out.

Inside were a stack of prenatal reports and several pairs of baby socks with the tags still on.

I'd planned to surprise Owen with the news at the engagement party.

I'd even picked out a name.

It was written on the last page of the planning binder.

I turned to that page and looked at the two words I'd penciled in. The name I'd chosen for our baby.

My vision blurred.

The lock beeped once, soft and electronic.

Owen walked in.

He was wearing the black coat I'd bought him, a sleek gift bag in one hand.

He stopped when he saw me on the couch.

You're out of the hospital?

He walked over and set the bag on the coffee table.

Why didn't you call me? I would've picked you up.

No need. I tucked the envelope folder back into the drawer.

I got myself home.

Owen sighed and sat down beside me.

He reached over to touch my hair.

I tilted my head away.

His hand hung in the air. Something in his expression hardened.

Bobbie, how long are you going to keep this up?

He pulled his hand back, a thin thread of exasperation in his voice.

I already told you, the engagement party is only postponed.

Rosie was really shaken up that day. She's all alone in this city. If I don't look after her, who will?

You're usually so easygoing. Why are you picking a fight with someone who's still recovering?

I looked at him.

Owen.

Do you have any idea what these past three days have been like for me?

Owen frowned.

I know you've been upset.

He pushed the paper bag on the coffee table toward me.

This is from that chestnut cake place on the south side you love. I waited in line half an hour for it.

Stop being mad, okay?

He was using that tone, the one you'd use to coax a child.

I looked at the bag with its elegant logo.

Rosamund's leftovers?

Owen's expression froze.

What are you talking about?

That shop is on the south side. The hospital is on the north side. You came straight from the hospital. Why would you go all the way across town for cake?

I held his gaze. My voice was completely flat.

Rosamund likes chestnuts, but she's allergic to peanuts.

This shop puts crushed peanuts in their chestnut cake.

You bought it for her. She couldn't eat it. So you brought the rest home to me. Am I wrong?

Owen's eyes flickered away for a second.

But he recovered fast, straightening up like he had nothing to be ashamed of.

So what if I did?

I figured you like it too. What's the big deal?

Roberta, do you have to make everything sound so ugly?

He stood up and looked down at me.

I've been at the hospital taking care of Rosie for days. I'm exhausted.

Can you stop nitpicking over every little thing?

Nitpicking.

I nearly laughed.

Owen, do you even know what I lost?

I tilted my head up to look at him.

Owen blinked, caught off guard.

It's just an engagement party.

He tugged at his tie, irritated.

I told you I'd make it up to you. What more do you want?

Is saving face really that important to you?

I watched him in silence.

Watched the impatience in his eyes, the certainty that he'd done nothing wrong.

Every explanation I had left died in my throat.

He didn't even know what injuries I'd sustained.

He didn't care.

I stood up. The motion was too quick; pain tore through my abdomen.

I gritted my teeth against it and walked to the entryway.

We're done.

My voice was quiet, but every word was clear.

Owen went still.

He turned, eyes wide.

What did you just say?

We're done.

I said it again.

There's no wedding. I'll contact a realtor to sell the apartment. Wire my share of the money to my account.

Owen stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh.

Wow, Roberta. You've really grown a spine, haven't you?

Using a breakup to threaten me?

He walked up to me, his gaze dripping with the smug certainty of a man who believed he could never be left.

Fine. You want out?

Go ahead.

I'd love to see what you amount to without me.

He grabbed his coat off the sofa and walked out without looking back.

Call me when you've come to your senses.

After Owen left, I took out my phone.

I opened the family group chat, the one titled "One Big Happy Family."

Both sets of parents were in it, along with a few relatives we saw regularly.

The chat had been dead silent ever since I'd announced three days ago that the engagement party was off.

My fingers moved across the keyboard.

No hesitation. I hit send.

Dear family, apologies for the interruption.

Owen and I have officially broken up due to irreconcilable differences.

The engagement party is canceled. There will not be another one.

Thank you all for your concern. Wishing everyone good health.

Owen's mother was the first to respond

Bobbie, what on earth are you saying? Why would you two break up out of nowhere?

My mom panicked too and called me immediately on voice.

I didn't pick up. I just switched my phone to silent.

Less than five minutes later, the keypad on the front door beeped again.

Owen stormed in, practically shaking with rage.

His phone was clenched in his fist, the screen still open to the family group chat.

Have you lost your mind, Roberta?

He crossed the room in three long strides, disbelief burning in his eyes.

Why the hell would you post something like that in the group chat?

You know my mother has a heart condition. She can't handle this kind of shock!

I sat on the couch and took a calm sip of warm water.

I stated a fact.

We broke up. Of course the family should know.

Who agreed to break up?

Owen's voice cracked upward, a vein pulsing at his temple.

Roberta, there's a limit to how far you can push a tantrum!

Is this all because I didn't spend enough time with you the past few days?

Rosie is an orphan. I'm the only friend she has in this city.

She was in a car accident. The psychological trauma is serious. What's wrong with me looking after her a little more?

He drew a deep breath and switched to a tone of weary sincerity.

Bobbie, we've been together eight years.

Since college. I'd like to think I've treated you well.

You can't throw away eight years over something this small.

Eight years? The corner of my mouth curved, but there was nothing warm in it.

Owen, do you even remember what I was wearing the day of the accident?

Owen went still.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out for a long time.

Of course he didn't remember.

Because that day, he never once looked at me.

You don't remember. I answered for him.

And you don't remember that it was the day of my wedding-gown fitting.

I was wearing that white dress you always loved. By the time they loaded me into the ambulance, it was soaked red with blood.

Something shifted behind Owen's expression.

Why are you bringing this up now?

You're sitting right here, perfectly fine, aren't you?

Rosie's different. She's sensitive. She can't handle the slightest bit of hardship

So I'm the one who deserves to suffer. Is that it?

I cut him off.

Bobbie, that's not what I meant

He stepped forward, reaching for my hand.

I stepped back, just out of his reach.

Owen, drop the act.

I looked at him, my gaze ice-cold.

You know exactly who you chose.

Since you chose her, don't stand in front of me pretending you care.

I turned and walked to the bedroom, pulling a pre-printed property-sale authorization from the drawer.

I came back and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him.

This apartment is joint property. I've already contacted a broker. It goes on the market tomorrow.

Proceeds split fifty-fifty.

Owen stared at the document. The rims of his eyes were turning red.

You're serious?

His jaw clenched, his voice trembling faintly.

Roberta, you think you'll find someone better than me out there?

You're twenty-eight. Who else is going to want you?

That's no longer your concern.

I turned and walked to the foyer, picking up my bag.

I'm getting married next week.

Owen's head snapped up. He stared at me, unblinking.

What did you just say?

I said I'm getting married next week.

I looked straight at him and said every word with perfect clarity.

Owen froze for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

Roberta, you'd really make up something this ridiculous just to get under my skin?

Married? To who? That guy from college you turned down a hundred times? Jayden Henson?

His face was pure mockery as he looked at me.

You think marrying some random guy is going to make me regret anything?

Grow up.

I walked out the door without looking back.

I'm not playing games. Believe what you want.

Early the next morning, my best friend Janet Fox showed up at the apartment with a crew of movers.

The second she saw how pale I was, her eyes went red.

Bobbie, you

She walked over and wrapped her arms around me, gentle, like I might break.

I'm fine.

I patted her back and forced a smile.

Everything's packed. Let them get started.

Where's that piece of trash? Janet asked through clenched teeth, shoving my clothes into a suitcase.

Still at the hospital keeping his precious little 'friend' company. My voice was flat.

Janet slammed the hanger in her hand onto the floor.

Are you kidding me? Is he even human?

You just had a miscarriage, and he's

She didn't finish. A low male voice at the doorway cut her off.

Which car should I load these into?

I looked up and saw Jayden Henson standing in the doorway in a simple white button-down.

Jayden?

Janet blinked, then it clicked.

The black SUV. Thanks.

Jayden nodded and came inside to help the movers carry boxes.

When nearly everything was loaded, he walked over to me and held out a cup of warm ginger tea.

Drink something warm. You don't look good.

Thank you.

I took the cup. My fingertips brushed his warm palm, and a small shiver ran through me.

I already booked your follow-up appointment. Tomorrow at ten. I'll pick you up.

He looked at me, his gaze steady and intent.

Okay.

I nodded.

Just then, the phone on the coffee table rang.

Owen's name flashed across the screen.

I didn't answer. I let it ring.

Jayden glanced at the phone, then back at me.

Want me to answer it for you?

No.

I picked up the phone and hit decline.

But Owen called right back.

I frowned and pressed accept.

Roberta, what the hell are you doing?

Owen's voice came through the speaker, seething.

The realtor just called me. You're selling the apartment?

Have you lost your mind?

I said I'm selling it, so I'm selling it.

My voice was calm.

I already signed the paperwork. All you need to do is come in and sign yours.

I'm not signing a damn thing!

Owen shouted on the other end.

Roberta, don't push me!

All I did was spend a few extra days with Rosie. Is that really worth tearing apart our home?

That was your home. Not mine.

I was about to hang up.

The line went quiet for a moment.

Then Owen's voice dropped, turning cold.

Is there a man with you?

Roberta, don't tell me what you said yesterday about getting married was real.

There was a thread of panic in his voice he didn't even seem to notice.

It's real.

I watched Jayden's back as he carried boxes toward the door. My voice didn't waver.

Owen, don't call me again.

You disgust me.

I hung up, then blocked his number.

Janet walked over and looked at me.

You sure about this?

Yeah.

I looked around the apartment I'd lived in for three years.

Then I looked at Jayden, standing in the doorway, waiting for me.

Next week. Come with me to get the marriage license.