Chapter 6
675words
He slumped against his car, surrendering to the downpour. A memory surfaced from the depths of his mind, sharp and clear as crystal.
Early in their marriage. He'd performed a marathon heart transplant, emerging victorious well past midnight.
He'd dragged himself home, bone-tired, to find a single lamp glowing in their living room.
Sophia, curled on the sofa, a thin blanket over her shoulders, a medical journal fallen from her fingers. On the table, dinner she'd made—long since cold.
He'd taken it for granted then—just a considerate wife. Only now did he understand: it was love, unconditional. A light that would burn for him no matter how late he returned.
And how had he repaid her?
With "emergencies" and "critical surgeries" that kept him away. Until one day, that lamp stopped waiting for him.
Eventually, he'd forgotten there was ever someone who waited for him with such quiet devotion.
He laughed bitterly into the rain, a sound more broken than weeping. His tears mixed with the downpour.
God, what a blind fool he'd been.
He wrenched open his car door, fired the engine, and tore through the streets like a madman.
He checked every place she might be, interrogated anyone who might know where she'd gone.
He called in every favor, exhausted every resource. His eyes grew bloodshot, his body running on desperation—find Sophia, beg forgiveness, make things right somehow.
He knew his chances were slim. He knew his sins were unforgivable.
But he couldn't stop.
The terror of losing her forever, the love that had awakened too late—they consumed him entirely.
Ethan pulled every string, called in every debt, hunting for Sophia like a man possessed.
He traveled to cities she'd mentioned, hounded friends who might be hiding her.
After three grueling months, he found her in a sleepy coastal town down south.
She worked at a private OB-GYN clinic now. She looked healthier, wearing a simple sundress, standing amid a riot of bougainvillea. Her face held a serene detachment he'd never seen before.
"Sophia..." He stepped forward, his voice a ragged whisper.
I studied the man before me—once loved beyond reason, then hated just as fiercely. He'd lost weight, his cheeks hollow, his once-vibrant features haggard with exhaustion and guilt.
"Dr. Kosters. Can I help you?" My voice was cool, professional—the tone I'd use with any stranger.
"I'm sorry, Sophia, I'm so sorry—" he stammered, reaching for my hand.
"I didn't know about the baby—about the accident. I'm a monster. Please, forgive me—"
I pulled my hand away before he could touch me.
"It's over now. Just sign the divorce papers." I focused on the crimson flowers at my feet, unable to meet his eyes.
"No!" The word exploded from him, his eyes wild. "I won't divorce you!"
"Sophia, I love you. I can't live without you. Please, let's start over. I'm begging you—"
"Love?" The word escaped as a hollow laugh.
"Is love getting Vivian pregnant while fooling around with Rachel? Is love slapping me in front of our colleagues when I couldn't save your precious baby? Is love ignoring calls while I bled out on an operating table, losing our child?"
Each question hit him like a physical blow. The color drained from his face.
"No—it wasn't—" His protests died on his lips, empty against the weight of truth.
We stood on the clinic's terrace, salt breeze in our hair, yet the air between us remained thick with grief.
"Ethan." I gazed toward the distant blue horizon.
"Between us lies a human life. Our child's life."
He stared at my profile, agony etched in every line of his face. His lips moved, but no sound emerged.
I finally met his gaze, my voice devoid of emotion. "I don't need your guilt. If you have any humanity left, save it for our child."
His last hope shattered. He closed his eyes, tears tracking silently down his face.
