Chapter 4 - The Hospital Bed
Rosa didn't drop me off at a police station; she drove me straight to the emergency room at Cedar Ridge Memorial. The triage nurses took one look at my bare, blue-tinged feet and my massive belly, and immediately rushed me into a private trauma bay.
For an hour, a flurry of doctors and nurses prodded, warmed, and monitored me. The lead obstetrician, a kind-faced woman named Dr. Aris, finally offered a reassuring smile.
"The baby is perfectly safe, Lena," Dr. Aris said, adjusting the straps of the fetal monitor wrapped around my stomach. "Her heartbeat is strong. However, the extreme cold and the emotional stress triggered premature contractions. We need to keep you here overnight for observation."
"Thank you, Doctor," I whispered, sinking back into the sterile white pillows.
As the doctor left the room, a nurse walked in carrying a plastic bag holding my belongings, including a spare phone I kept hidden in my bra for emergencies—a habit I had developed months ago when Derek began taking my primary phone to "check my screen time."
I booted up the device. It immediately pinged with a forwarded text message from my primary number, which I had synced to the cloud. It was from Derek.
Don’t bother coming home until you are ready to formally apologize for your psychotic behavior today.
May you like
I stared at the glowing screen. There was no inquiry about my health, no concern for the freezing temperatures, and absolutely no thought given to his unborn child. Just raw, unchecked narcissism.
I didn't reply. I simply took a screenshot. It was the first piece of ammunition for the war that was about to begin. The rhythmic, steady thump-thump-thump of the fetal monitor echoed in the quiet room. I stared at the ceiling, feeling the last remaining shreds of love I held for that man evaporate into cold, hard ice.
