"Why me? What did I do in my past life to deserve all this? Every man I've ever loved has broken my heart in the end. Life is just so unfair, especially after all the good I've tried to do."
The hospital felt empty without him. Owen's absence left a void, one I couldn't simply erase. We had been through so much together, the moments we shared, the memories we created. And now, he was married. Still, I couldn't shake him from my mind, especially as I carried his child.
"Doc, the inmate at the VIP ward says the heart is ready. He's requesting immediate surgery."
I instructed one of the cardiothoracic surgeons to take charge. Though I had no concrete evidence, I suspected the heart was obtained illegally. The surgery was a success, but it left me with a lingering feeling of unease. The police were monitoring everything closely.
Later, I overheard some of the doctors discussing Owen's wedding. They spoke about how romantic it had been, praising his passionate kissing moments. My heart twisted with pain.
"DON'T YOU GUYS HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO?" I snapped, trying to mask the hurt that was bubbling inside me.
I knew Owen would be back from his honeymoon soon, and I had to find a way to regain control of myself before that happened. I couldn't let him see me fall apart.
Later that week, I attended a national medical seminar, hoping to focus on the future of the hospital. I needed to find talented doctors who could help us become the best in the country. Nicolas was one of the speakers, and the crowd applauded him after his speech. But I knew the truth, Nicolas was a hypocrite, and I didn't buy his act. I crossed my arms as the applause echoed around me.
When he approached me, I couldn't hold back.
"What can I possibly learn from someone like you? A hypocrite, a cheater? Your speech was full of empty words, and the people who clapped are just looking to get something from you. They were feeding your ego."
He smirked, unfazed. "No wonder Owen married another woman. With that attitude of yours, I can see why he's moved on. I heard his colleagues say you've been struggling to let go. You must be heartbroken."
His words hit me harder than I expected. The pain I had buried resurfaced in an instant. I couldn't help but picture Owen with Adele, enjoying their honeymoon, making love while I was left here, feeling empty.
I needed to distract myself. I stopped at a shop to buy a bottle of wine, hoping it would ease the tension inside me. But when I entered, I saw a young man working on the floor, collapsed in pain. I quickly called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital.
"How are you feeling, young man? You collapsed yesterday, and we brought you here for treatment."
"What's wrong with me, doctor?"
"You have a tumor near your heart. It's causing you pain and difficulty breathing. We need to perform surgery right away before it gets worse."
The young man was reluctant. "I don't need surgery. I'm fine. I've been managing."
The next day, when I went to check on him, I was told he had left without paying for his treatment. Determined, I went to the shop where he worked and tried to convince him to have the surgery. But he ignored me, too busy with customers.
I waited until the shop was empty, bought a cake, and gave it to him as a gift, hoping to soften his resistance. "Please, come to the hospital tomorrow. We'll take care of everything. The surgery's already been paid for."
But despite my efforts, he refused. "I don't need it, doctor. I'm not coming to the hospital."
"Then I'll come here a hundred times if that's what it takes. You don't have a choice. You're getting the surgery, whether you like it or not."
The following morning, I saw him standing outside the hospital. I didn't know what he was thinking, but I couldn't let him slip through the cracks. I grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, instructing the nurses to prepare him for surgery.
I personally went into the operating room to perform the procedure, knowing it was necessary to avoid any complications. Meanwhile, rumors began circulating that Owen was back. I tried to act indifferent, but when I went to my office, I kept hoping he'd show up. He didn't.
After work, I saw a car pull up in front of my house. It looked like Owen's. My heart raced as I approached. But when I saw who was inside, I was filled with anger. I ran inside, but I missed a step and fell, landing hard on my stomach. The pain was instant. Blood began to stain my thighs.
Owen rushed me to the hospital, but it was too late. I had miscarried our child.
"Owen, is this what you wanted? Is this how you're happy now? How could you be with her in front of my house?"
He tried to explain, "That wasn't the intention, Jasmine. We were just coming to say hi."
"How could you do this to me, Owen? I was your fiancée. I was carrying your child! And you left me to marry someone else. And now, after your honeymoon, you're here… with her. In front of my house. This is beyond cruel."
For weeks, I was a shell of myself, unable to go to work, consumed by the pain of losing not just our child, but Owen as well. He visited, but nothing seemed to ease the pain.
One day, as I cried, I saw Owen. He walked over to me, his touch gentle as he rubbed my back. He pulled me into an embrace, and I couldn't resist the urge to kiss him. One kiss led to another, and before I knew it, we were making love again. The familiar warmth of his touch, the feeling of him inside me, it was all I had longed for. But the pain was still there, lingering beneath the surface.