The sterile brightness of the hospital room engulfed Lily whole, robbing her of all she had believed in. She lay motionless, hollow, with her hand resting on the flat curvature of her stomach. The kid she carried, the life she fostered inside her, is long gone.
The echo of her anguish flooded the room, pressing on her chest, leaving her with only a broken heart and a hollow pain.
The door creaked open. Jason stood there, his hair untidy, his bowtie undone, and the slight scent of champagne lingering on him. Lily's fingers grasped the clinic sheet, clinging to her last remnant of calm.
He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering as he moved within. "Lily… I came as soon as I heard."
Her eyes met his, hard and unwavering. "wherein have been you?" Her voice became hardly more than a whisper, but it cut through the silence like glass.
Jason paused. "there has been a critical donor…" He trailed off, his expression showing a mix of shame and frustration.
"I lost our toddler this night," she interrupted, her tone raw and filled with a pain that no words could truly capture. Her lips twitched. "I misplaced our child, Jason… and also you were together with her."
His face paled, his mouth opened, but no words came out. A beat of quiet stretched between them, heavy and stiff.
"It wasn't like that," he said, his voice sounding dubious even to himself. "You understand how important it became for me to be there, Lily. The gala was a significant opportunity. We're about to sign—"
"Of signing?" She chuckled cruelly, her tone harsh and empty. "Is that all that subjects to you presently?"
Jason's face twitched with irritation. "This became one of the most significant nights of my career, Lily. The investors needed to show my commitment—"
"What is your level of dedication to me?" To us?" She felt bitterness rise in her throat, each sentence sharper than the last. "Or became it handiest ever about your achievement?"
He sighed and averted her gaze as he ran his hand through his hair. "You're now not being honest."
"fair?" She spat the phrase, her anger blending with her anguish. "I was lying here bleeding, fighting for our baby's life, and you were laughing with her. "Don't you dare to speak to me about fairness."
"Lily, it wasn't like that." His tone softened, but it was too late. The harm was done. She should still notice it: the small lipstick trace on his collar, the scent of costly perfume clinging to his jacket, Sarah's scent. It became all there, a harsh reminder of where he was and who he was with, even if she had fought on her own behalf for their child.
He took a tentative step toward her, reaching out as if to console her, but she shrank back, drawing the medical institution sheet up like a guard.
"Don't," she said softly, the words stopping in her throat. "You can't touch me now. "Now, not after this."
He gave a frustrated look. "Lily, you are not thinking directly. I understand you've been dealing with a stressful situation, but Sarah... "She is no longer the reason for any of this."
"She's no longer?" Lily's voice became constant and icy, even as her heart tortured with each pulse. "Then tell me why." Tell me why you continue to walk towards her. Tell me why, at night, when I needed you the most, she became more important than your own kid."
Jason opened his mouth, but no words emerged. The stillness between them became terrible, stretching out into an abyss she knew they would never cross again.
"Lily..." he said softly, begging. "It's no longer what you believe you studied."
She shook her head, a tear trickling down her cheek and leaving a cold, bitter track. "So what is it, Jason? What should I suppose? Because right now, all I can see is the man who let me go through this alone. Who put his ambition - or her - before his own family?"
Jason's expression distorted, and rage flashed through his eyes. "You're complicating issues, Lily. It's not like I wanted this to happen.
"wanted?" The term stings. "You didn't want it, but you let it show up. And now there is nothing left.
Silence. He seemed distant, his face rigid and his body traumatized.
Her look softened and her voice broke. "You made commitments, Jason. You promised to be there, to like me, and to create a life with me. But every time, you selected her. "You always left me alone."
"I did not leave you on my own," he said gently, his voice protective. "I'm right here now."
Her snort became harsh, devoid of any genuine humor. "Now? "Now that there is nothing left?"
Jason ran a surrender face, frustration visible in every movement. "Lily, this is not... It's no longer as simple as you make it."
"simple?" She shook her head, her heart heavy from pain. "It became simple, Jason. It developed into a preference. And you made it."
The weight of her words sat between them, thick and oppressive.
He appeared dejected, with his shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry," he said, the words flat and empty.
"Sorry?" She let out a bitter chuckle. "Are you sorry?" That does not change anything, Jason. It does not restore our child's lower back. It does not change the fact that you were with her at the same time that I was here alone."
Jason cringed at her words, his eyes flickering with something almost like shame.
"Lily, please..." Let's just go home and talk about it. We can fix this," he urged, reaching out to her.
But she returned, her face firm, her eyes filled with a determination he had never seen before. "This cannot be solved. "Not anymore."
He stared at her, as if the truth of what he had lost had finally set in. However, it became too late.
With a final, lingering look, she turned away from him, her heart breaking and her world disintegrating around her.
"Goodbye, Jason," she muttered, her voice heavy with the weight of everything they had just shared and lost.
And as she walked away, leaving him there, alone in the clinic room, she felt the final shreds of her love for him vanish, leaving just a lonely void.
The door clicked shut behind her, a genuine sound that resonated through the silence, final and immovable.
Outside, the rain poured down, washing away the final traces of her wish, leaving her to face a future without
him, without the kid they had misplaced, and without the promises he had shattered.