Lost Me Gained Regret

It was my third try, three times I'd attempted to tell Bryant about my pregnancy, and each time I got the cold shoulder.

Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

And I was relieved that I never got the chance to tell him, which would make our divorce cleaner and smoother.

The odds of running into him post-divorce were slim to none in a city as vast as RiverCity. He might go his whole life without knowing about the child we could've shared.

Hearing my thoughts, Christine agreed, "No kid wants a deadbeat dad. Keeping it from him is the right call."

Leaving the hospital around 2:30 PM, Christine linked arms with me, steering us toward the parking lot. "Your car's at Dave's Garage, getting fixed after that nasty crash. It'll take about a week. I'll go with you to pick it up. Until then, just hit me up wherever you need to go, and your driver, Christine, is at your service."

I couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time. "You'll hover around me all day, not working? Don't worry. I've got another car."

Bryant might not have given me much in the way of love, but he never skimped on the material things like a house, a car, and much money. But all I ever wanted was love.

"The doc said you need to rest and keep an eye on things for a couple more days, and here you are, talking about driving. In your dreams," Christine playfully scolded, stopping herself just in time from poking my forehead, mindful of the bandage there.

As we drove off, Christine almost lit a cigarette but then remembered I was pregnant and put it back. "I was thinking we could visit the cemetery, but with the shock you've had, plus being pregnant, better not. Focus on settling things with Bryant for now. Once everything's settled, we can pay respects to your folks."

"Sounds good." I agreed.

The drive home felt different this time. Soon, it wouldn't be my home anymore. Someone else would live there, erasing every trace of me. Soon enough, Bryant would probably forget about me, the person once in his life.

...

Back home, I realized my phone was dead. Charging it, I saw many missed calls. They were all from Bryant. It was the first time he'd called so much, especially after I'd decided on divorce.

There was also a photo from an unknown number, the same one that sent me a video half a month ago.

In the photo, Bryant, CEO of Ferguson Group, was holding popcorn and an ice cream cone, standing close to Margaret. The timestamp showed the photo was taken right before I woke up in the hospital. So, they were on a date. Bryant left his hospital-bound wife behind to go on a date with his old flame.

How touching. A bitter smile spread across my lips as I sat by the window, phone in hand, lost in thought.

He didn't come home.

In the evening, Emma invited me for dinner. The meal tasted like cardboard.

Thinking of the child, I forced myself to take some pasta and shrimp and wiped my mouth with a napkin before heading upstairs.

After calling Christine, I began to pack my belongings.

Three years wasn't long, but I’d accumulated quite a bit. I didn't want anyone else handling my stuff, nor did I want to leave anything behind to bother them. So, I packed everything into suitcases.

"Mrs. Ferguson..." While passing by my room, Emma spotted the large suitcases and asked, "Are you going on a trip abroad?"Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

"No." I shook my head softly, "I'm moving out. If I leave anything behind, could you please keep it for me? I'll arrange for a courier to pick it up."

Emma was stunned. "Why move out all of a sudden? Did you and Mr. Bryant fight? I'll call Mr. Timothy right now. He'll talk some sense into Mr. Bryant!"

"Emma, Timothy's blood pressure hasn't been stable. He can't be stressed. Besides, we didn't fight. It’s just that I don't want to be with him anymore."

‘How would he fight with me? I am not even worth the effort.’ I mocked myself inwardly.

After hearing that, Emma could only watch me anxiously, wanting to say something. But she knew better since she had seen firsthand the state of my marriage with Bryant over the past three years.