Never Too Late to Change My Mind

Connor Lockwood abandons me at the hospital's entrance even though I'm bleeding in the middle of my pregnancy. He insists on sending his client, a divorcée, home.

The blood flows down my legs, but he hurries off without another look back.

He should've been at the hospital and by my side, but instead, I see him in his client's social media update.

It's captioned, "Thank goodness for my wonderful lawyer. Do you know who gets to have hangover soup when they're drunk? Me!"

I spend the rest of the night wide awake.

The following morning, I calmly dial a number. "Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll return home in three days to take over the company."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a deep sigh.

"Alright. All is fine as long as you're coming back. I'll be waiting for you at home."

Hearing Dad's voice, I held back the ache in my heart and hung up the phone.

After ending the call, I placed a hand on my flat stomach as tears spilled down my face.

The doctor told me that the baby had just started forming. If I'd come any earlier, there might have been a chance…

"I'm sorry, baby. I failed to protect you. I'm so sorry…" I muttered, crying so hard that I could barely breathe.

A young nurse on her rounds opened the door and stepped in. She seemed used to such situations but still ended up feeling moved.

"A miscarriage is a big deal. Why are you here alone? Where's your husband? Why isn't he here with you?" There was evident concern in her voice.

I'd just gone through a miscarriage and was lying in a hospital bed. Yet, the only person who cared about me was a nurse I'd never met. Meanwhile, my husband was probably waking up in another woman's arms.

My sobs slowly stopped, and I bitterly murmured, "He's dead…"

The nurse looked apologetic. Her gaze filled with newfound sympathy.

I ended up ignoring the doctor's advice and insisted on getting discharged. As I scanned the miscarriage report, my body trembled.

How had my baby turned into just a piece of report? This pain shouldn't be mine to bear alone.

When I returned home, the house was empty. As expected, Connor Lockwood hadn't returned home last night.

He and a woman spent the night together. No one would believe that nothing had happened between them.

In the past, I would have bombarded him with phone calls. Now, I just felt so tired.

My phone rang with a call from Connor.

As soon as I answered, his concerned voice came through. "Wynn, are you okay? Something happened to Quinn. She drank too much last night, and now she has a fever. I'm taking her to the hospital now…"

After he spoke, I calmly replied, "You two were together last night."

My voice was steady. It was a statement of fact rather than a question.