Chapter 3 Five years, and she still lost.

(Heather's POV)

What would become of my unborn child now?

If I had the slightest hint that this would happen, I would never have gotten pregnant just yet.

My marital problems with Roland began a few months after our marriage, when I miscarried my first pregnancy. Naive me had been consuming pineapple juice excessively, as it was my top craving then, without the knowledge of the threat pineapples poses to pregnancies in the first trimester.

I was rushed to the hospital that faithful noon, bleeding profusely, after consuming four packs of pineapple juice at a go.

There was nothing to be medically done as the embryo was badly affected, so I lost it.

And then the doctor revealed the cause of the miscarriage to Roland. He went berserk that day, blaming me for killing his unborn child, the one reason he had accepted to tie the nuptial knot with me.

Of course, my marriage to Roland was not borne out of his love for me. He had married me because I got pregnant from the one night stand we had at a club, five years ago.

I had snuck out of college in my second year to attend a party held at a club with my then best friend, Nina. Unknown to me, the drink I was offered was spiked and I got really drunk and horny.

When Roland, looking so hot and handsome, approached me, the only thought I had was to pull off my panties and jump right into bed with him. And I did just that. We had sex in one of the exclusive rooms in the club, a decision that had a significant impact in my life afterward.

I discovered I was pregnant a month later. No, I didn't, my step mother did. She had caught me puking and dragged me to the hospital where I was confirmed a month pregnant.

Heaven let loose that night after my father returned, and I was threatened to produce the father or risk being thrown out of the house.

It took days of pleading with Nina to reveal Roland's identity to me before she did. I, in turn, relayed it to my parents. Armed with the information, My step mother dragged me to Winston's mansion.

Until then, I didn't realize that Roland was the first and only son of the prestigious Winston's family, one of Los Angeles' influential and richest families.

Roland had tried to deny me, not until I produced the bracelet he left behind that night. The rest of his family, his mother and sister, were hostile, save for his father.

Mr Leonard Winston, who is late now, God bless his kind soul, was empathetic. He had insisted that Roland, who was in his finals in college then, got married to me immediately after his graduation.

When Roland tried to protest, his father threatened to deny him of his inheritance. Mr Winston was elated about the pregnancy and could not wait to be called a grandad.

Upon his graduation, Winston and I had a low–key marriage, attended by only family members.

Afterward, we moved into his own house, courtesy of his father who insisted that a married man should live in his own home and not his parents.

Winston took over his family's businesses while I dropped out of school because I couldn't continue with the pregnancy.

Roland didn't love me and he made it clear, unlike me who had loved him right from that night I set my eyes on him at the club.

He tried to tolerate my presence for the baby's sake even though he snapped at me most of the time.

And then three months later, I miscarried the baby. Roland, his mother, and sister were embittered and they blamed me for it. Roland moved out of the master bedroom and I was left alone to navigate through the trauma of losing a child.

Fortunately, God sent Mrs Smith, the housekeeper, to my aid . She was kind hearted and ensured that I visited a therapist and got over the pain.

Mr Leonard was a good support system too, but he died a few months later from cardiac arrest.

And ever since then, my marriage to Roland was synonymous with that of roommates. Although he moved back to the Masters bedroom a year after, he barely made love to me. Most times, I had to make the first move.

Still, I never gave up on him, on us. I believed that one day he would finally reciprocate the love I have for him. And while I waited for that day to come, I made efforts to make our marriage work, and one of the ways I did that was by trying to get pregnant again.

I naively thought that since losing my first pregnancy was the Genesis of Roland and I falling out maritally, working hard to conceive again would repair the damage in our marriage.

But Roland's words tonight after I broke the news of my pregnancy to him proved to me that it was never about me losing the baby. He neve loved me, and probably will never, even in the nearest future.

I don't know how long I sat on the floor of the restaurant parking lot, reminscing, until I felt a gentle pat on my shoulder.

Startled, I looked up at the owner of the hand. A breath of relief escaped my lips when I realized it was the driver.

"I'm sorry, Ma, but we have to leave. It's pretty late and dangerous out here." The driver said, hit brows furrowed in concern.

"What time is it?" I inquired, rising to my feet.

"A few minutes past 12 am, Ma."

I gasped. That means I had spent approximately two hours in the parking lot. I glanced in the direction of the restaurant entrance door, and I saw the "closed" sign put up at the door.

"Phew," I hissed in disappointment. "So much for an anticipated anniversary dinner date. Let's go," I said to the driver and walked away.

I slept off during the drive home, and only woke up when the driver pulled up in the garage. Drowsily, I alighted and walked into the house.

Like I anticipated, Mrs Smith was still up, waiting for me in the living room. She sprang to her feet, her face masked with the worry, the moment I walked through the door.

"Heather, didn't I ask you not to stay out..." she began to say, but the words caught in her throat as she saw my tear streaked cheeks and disheveled look.

"Oh, dear. What happened to you?" She asked, rushing to me.

On seeing her, I burst into tears again.

"Come sit," she said and led me to the sofa. "What happened?"

I could not reply as I kept sobbing my heart out. The pain had returned, and this time, it was more heart wrenching than before.

Mrs Smith was patient and let me cry it all out, while she patted my back soothingly. Few minutes later, when I could finally say a few words in between my sobs, I let the words out.

"Five years, five years of fighting to get him to love me back and I still lost."