My heart lurched. I tried to sit up, but a dull ache spread through my body, heavy and disorienting. Panic crept in as I scanned the room. A thin curtain, a metal stand with an IV drip, the unfamiliar stiffness of the bed beneath me.
What happened?
Memories rushed back all at once, cruel and vivid: Adrian's office, his hands on her, the courthouse, the pen in my hand, the way he signed the divorce papers without hesitation, the way he didn't stop me, didn't fight, didn't even pretend, the way my heart finally gave up. And then...darkness.
The sound of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I turned my head slowly, my chest tightening as I saw him.
Adrian stepped into the room from what I assumed was the restroom, sleeves rolled up, expression composed as always. He looked completely untouched by the chaos he had left in his wake, like this was just another inconvenience in his carefully controlled life.
"You're awake," he said, his tone neutral.
I stared at him, disbelief hardening into something colder. "What have you done to me?" My voice was steady, sharper than I felt. "Why am I here?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked past the bed and sat down on the couch, leaning back like he belonged there. Like this room, this moment, was under his authority too.
My fingers curled into the sheets. "Did you bring me here to finish what you started?" I demanded. "To silence me? To erase what I saw?"
He glanced at me then, a faint, dangerous curve to his lips. "I would," he said calmly.
Fear shot through me, instant and paralyzing.
"If I could," he added after a pause.
I realized then that I'd stopped breathing. My lungs burned as I exhaled, anger rushing in to replace the fear.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed despite the ache, my movements clumsy but determined. He watched without stopping me, without offering help.
Fine.
I reached for my shoes, slipping them on with shaking hands. I was done lying down for him, done being weak.
When I stood, the room tilted slightly, but I steadied myself and walked toward the door.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked finally.
"What I should have done a long time ago," I replied, not turning around. "Leaving you." My hand closed around the door handle.
"Not with my child."
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I froze.
Slowly, too slowly, I turned back to face him. My heart was pounding now, loud enough that I was sure he could hear it. "What did you say?" I whispered.
He stood, his expression unreadable, eyes dark and assessing. "You collapsed at home," he said evenly. "The doctor ran tests."
My throat tightened. "What tests?"
His gaze didn't waver. "You're pregnant, Jane."
The room seemed to close in around me. "No," I said immediately, shaking my head. "That's not possible. But-"
"But nothing," he interrupted. "You're pregnant, and that's all that matters."
My mind spun violently, emotions crashing into each other: shock, disbelief, fear, something dangerously close to hope that I refused to acknowledge.
I pressed a hand to my stomach instinctively.
Pregnant? After three years of nothing? After everything?
"So now what?" I asked hoarsely. "You think this changes anything?"
His jaw tightened. "It changes everything."
I laughed then, a broken, incredulous sound. "You don't get to decide that. Not anymore."
He stepped closer. "You're carrying my child."
"And I'm still leaving you," I said, meeting his gaze with everything I had left. "A child doesn't erase betrayal. It doesn't excuse what you did."
Silence stretched between us, thick and volatile.
"This isn't over," he said finally.
I opened the door. "For me, it is." I gave my final verdict and walked out, walking out this time with the awareness that the war had just begun.
I made my way down the hospital's hallway, my eyes stinging with tears that I tried hard to conceal.
Yes, I'm leaving him, but the pain is just so much, and this child unfortunately had to come at the wrong timing.
Footsteps approached me directly from behind, fast and hasty. I didn't bother to look who it was, it'd definitely be a nurse or a doctor rushing to a ward. But then a warm strong hand grasped mine from behind, bringing me to a halt. I instinctively turned to find Adrian, and my foolish heart had to make my tears drop at that very moment.
His eyes locked to mine, emotionless, and expressionless. "Why leave if you regret it?" He asked.
"I don't regret it," I responded, yanking my hand off his.
"Then what's with the tears?" He asked next.
"Isn't it too late to care?" I shot.
"Care?" He scoffed, putting his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't doing that."
"Just don't draw unnecessary eyes towards me," he added, looking around like he was looking out for something.
I looked around and that was when I noticed the people sneak-peeking on us. I scoffed, realizing all again that he only cared about his reputation.
"Why? You don't want them to know how bad of a husband you've been?" I shot at him.
"Come with me quietly and stop trying to cause a scene here," he said, offering me his hand.
I looked down at his hand and scoffed. Without further words to him, I turned and began walking out of the hospital.
He followed me and grabbed my hand but I yanked it off him. "Let go of me!" I yelled, earning just the right size of attention from the people around. Watchful eyes were on us, waiting patiently for the next headlines that I plan to give to them.
"Stay away from me, you ly-" my words got stuck in my throat as he pressed his lips to mine, sealing me up with a kiss. My eyes widened in shock as I tried hard to push him away, but he was way too stronger. He drew me in, closer to him, sealing the distance between us.
I bit his lip hard, trying to force him away, but instead, he deepened the kiss, prying deeper into my mouth.
Cameras began flashing at us, muffled whispers began flying in the air as more people came to the scene. And then it clicked. This wasn't about me, it was about what the world would believe.
No...This isn't the headline I planned to give.