“What about Baby C?” I asked desperately. Someone answered. “We’re still working.”
The room blurred. For one impossible moment, I imagined Mark bursting through those operating room doors.
Terrified. Ashamed. Choosing his family at last. Instead… A nurse gently held my hand while darkness swallowed me.
Hours later, Mark finally decided to return. He still smelled faintly of expensive cake frosting.
And Madison’s perfume. On the elevator ride, he rehearsed his excuses.
His phone had died. I always overreacted. Hospitals exaggerated everything.
He was certain I would forgive him. Just like I always had. The elevator doors opened.
He walked confidently into the maternity ward. Then stopped. My room was empty.
The bed had already been stripped. A bouquet from his office sat untouched beside the window.
No wife. No babies. Only silence. He stopped a passing nurse. “Excuse me.
My wife, Emily Carter… she delivered triplets. Where is she?” The nurse studied his face for a moment.
Recognition slowly replaced confusion. “Emily Carter?” “Yes,” he answered impatiently.
“She’s my wife.” The nurse frowned. “She was discharged four days ago.”
She paused. Then quietly asked the question that drained every bit of color from his face.
“… Isn’t she home?” The story is too long to post in the caption, so just say you “Yes”.
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