Seven Years of Love Lost, After the Stand in Left, He Went Mad
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When I woke up again, I was greeted by the stark white ceiling of the hospital.
Cody sat by my bedside and his first words were full of reproach, “Elise, why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
My voice was weak as I replied, “Did you ever give me the chance to speak?”
He replied, “How could I not? If you had told me the moment you arrived, I wouldn’t have made you drink.”
I almost laughed out of sheer anger at his attempt to twist the blame. “So, now the fact that I lost the baby is my fault?” I sneered.
He said, “Well, it’s not entirely your fault. I share some of the blame too. But take care of your body and we can have another child in the future.”
I said softly, “No, we won’t. We won’t have any more children, Cody. We’re done.”
His expression froze, “Elise, don’t say such things in anger.”
He opened the container of porridge on the table and brought it to me, his face showing a hint of appeasement, “The doctor said you need to nourish yourself. I specially ordered this polenta for you. Here, let me feed you.”
I replied flatly, “I’m allergic to corn.”
His voice faltered in surprise, “How? I distinctly remember you loving…” His words trailed off. He had realized that the one who loved corn was Brittany.
“I’ll … I’ll order something else for you. How about millet porridge?” Setting the yellow polenta aside, he picked up his phone to place a new order.
I turned away, refusing to look at him and said, “I want to rest. Please leave.”
Cody stood behind me for a while before saying quietly, “I’ll be right outside. Call me if you get hungry.”
The next day, he appeared at my bedside with a bowl of fragrant millet porridge. It was as if he had made up his mind about something. He looked at me with unusual determination, “Elise, let’s get married.”
A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my lips, “Cody, what is this? Compensation for your guilt?”
For three years, I had hinted countless times that I wanted to marry him, to be a true family with him. But every time, he had dismissed me with the excuse of needing to stabilize his career.
Hearing my question, guilt flickered across his face. He quickly replied, “Even though you lost the baby, you still get to marry me. It’s not a bad trade–off for you.”
I sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard. My voice was soft but steady, “Cody, come closer.”
He leaned down and I mustered all my strength to slap him hard across the face and said, “That slap was for the child, for having a cold–hearted father like you.”
Then, I backhanded him with another slap, “And this one’s for myself, for wasting seven years of my youth on you.”
Caught off guard, Cody took the slaps without resistance, his face instantly darkening. He grabbed my chin with his hand, his fingers digging into my skin and hissed, “Elise, are you looking for trouble?”
My gaze was icy, unwavering as I stared him down, “That’s what I should be saying to you. Who gave you the audacity? What makes you think I’d still want to marry you now?”
A few seconds later, Cody released me and said coldly, “You just lost a child, so I’ll let this slide.” With that, he stormed out of the room.
Not long after, my phone buzzed with a stream of congratulatory messages from friends. I stared at the screen, my heart heavy with irony. It was as if they were congratulating someone else, not me.
