At twenty-eight weeks pregnant, I could barely manage the baby's movements and begged my husband, Jesus, to drive me to the hospital. Just as we were about to leave the garage, he received a call and told me to get out of the car.

"Catalina's running a fever and wants some apple cider from The Orchard. I have to take it to her. You'll have to get to the hospital by yourself."

I battled the intense pain gripping my abdomen and pleaded with him, "Jesus, we live in the suburbs, and there are no taxis around. Please, just take me to the hospital first."

Growing impatient, he shoved me out of the passenger seat and drove away. As I sat on the pavement, I felt the warm trickle of blood running down my legs and lost consciousness from the pain.

While my husband savored the sweet cider with his muse, I was robbed of my nearly full-term child and my womb. I woke up in the hospital bed, my heart shattered. I sent the remains of our child and a divorce agreement to his office via courier.

---

I clung desperately to Jesus's arm, the searing pain in my abdomen rendering me speechless. "Please, take me to the hospital," I begged.

He sneered and pulled his arm away. "Cali, stop pretending! If you're in pain, why didn’t you call an ambulance earlier?"

I wanted to tell him I had called an ambulance, but living so far out in the suburbs meant it could take a while to arrive. I had hoped he would take me first.

But now, the pain was too overwhelming to form words. Jesus, seeing my anguished expression, grew more irritated.

"Every time Catalina calls, you pretend to have stomach pains! You're almost due, and you think this excuse will still work on me?"

"Catalina’s feverish right now and waiting for me to bring her the cider!"

"Cali, can't you understand plain English? I told you to get out of the car!"

When I didn’t move, he lost his temper and shoved me to the ground. "If I had known it would be this much trouble, I’d have told you to terminate the pregnancy the day you found out!"

Stunned, I fell, instinctively protecting my stomach with both hands. As he slammed the car door and drove off, I heard him reassure Catalina over the phone, "Don’t worry, Catalina, I just had a little issue to deal with. I’m on my way to you now."

The car sped away, and I felt the moisture of blood spreading between my thighs. In panic, I reached for my phone and tried calling Jesus. I heard the ringtone again and again, but he never picked up.

The blood flowed faster, and my consciousness began slipping away. There wasn’t a single car on the road in our isolated neighborhood. Fighting the darkness creeping at the edges of my vision, I used the last of my strength to dial Catalina's number.

The call connected quickly, but before I could say a word, Jesus's cold voice came through, "Cali, can't you just stop? Can’t this wait until I get home?"

The line went dead, and when I tried again, no one picked up. Despair enveloped me as I collapsed into the pool of blood and lost consciousness.

When I regained consciousness, I was already in the hospital. Frantically, I pulled back the sheets and felt my stomach—there was nothing there anymore.

My heart plunged into a cold abyss as tears streamed down my face. The baby was gone, and at that moment, I felt hollow.

Ignoring the nurse's protests, I insisted on being discharged. I checked my phone—no missed calls.

Logging into the home surveillance camera, I unsurprisingly found Jesus absent. He'd stayed with Catalina for two whole days, personally tending to her.

In the past, I would have demanded answers about where he'd been and who he was with. But now, I didn’t care anymore.

Jesus didn’t come home that night, and I barricaded myself in the bedroom, finally finding deep, uninterrupted sleep.

The next day, when Jesus came back, I was busy organizing the closet. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching me for a while. When I didn’t turn to look at him, he chuckled lightly.

“What’s going on? Suddenly, you have the energy for chores and aren’t complaining about your stomach hurting?”

I kept my back to him, focused on my task. He likely thought I was pouting again. With a touch of flair, he pulled out a small food container.

“Look, some spiced honey cake from Derun’s. Didn’t you always say it was amazing but too expensive? Well, I got you some!”

He opened the lid and tried to offer me a piece. The cake had clearly changed color, indicating it had been in the fridge for a couple of days, and a slice was missing. Jesus motioned for me to open my mouth. “Come on, give it a try. Spiced honey cake is great for calming nerves!”

I was about to mention I didn’t want someone else’s leftovers, but then realized how pointless that would be.

“No thanks, I’m not in the mood for sweets. Just leave it in the kitchen.”

Seeing that I didn’t appreciate his gesture, his face immediately darkened.

“Cali, you know Lina had a fever and wanted spiced honey cake. You pretended to have a stomachache to stop me from going. I was really upset, but Lina said not to be mad at you. I’ve forgiven you and even brought you some cake. So, what’s with the attitude now?”

I turned around and looked at him calmly. “Jesus, I’m not sulking or trying to make a scene. I just don’t want anything sweet right now.”

He muttered something about me being unreasonable, and then his phone rang. The screen showed a local number.

Since it was an unknown number, he answered it right in front of me. “Same-city delivery? Who’s it from?”

A few seconds later, he glanced at me, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m not at the office right now. Could you leave it at the front desk? I’ll pick it up when I get there.”

After hanging up, he gave me a significant look, a hint of smugness in his voice. “We’ve been married so long; why the surprises? You could’ve just given me the gift in person instead of sending it to my office.”

A sharp pang hit my heart. The surprise gift…

I clenched my fists tight, holding back tears. I forced a smile in return. “I hope you like it.”

Jesus hadn't been home for long before he left again. Catalina had called, saying she was running a high fever once more. As I continued packing, my heart clenched when I saw the box containing the prenatal check-up reports. I picked up the 3D ultrasound on top and looked at it closely, tears falling onto the paper. This was from last month's detailed scan, where we had clearly seen the baby. But now, the baby lay alone, merely a memory in a box.

I quietly placed the box in my suitcase when my phone buzzed with a message from Jesus. I played the voice note, his anxious tone filling the room:

"Cali, you need to drive over to that little chapel on the north side of town and ask for a blessing card for Catalina. She's burning up again, just like last time. She's probably scared again!"

"You know Father Roger well. Make sure to get one of those special cards he blesses himself. Catalina is so upset she's crying. Hurry up, get it, and deliver it straight away."

I didn’t respond. In the past, I would answer his calls immediately and reply to messages right away. An hour later, Jesus called.

"Why are you so slow, Cali? Where’s the blessing card?"

I used to visit that chapel often, well acquainted with Father Roger. During my preparations for Thanksgiving, I once caught a cold and had a fever. Unable to take medication, I climbed the hill to ask for a blessing card for peace of mind. Maybe it was the placebo effect, or perhaps the illness was mild, but I recovered quickly after that visit.

Later, when Catalina had a persistent fever, Jesus remembered this incident. He couldn’t bear the thought of his beloved climbing the hill, so he ordered me to fetch the card for her. He claimed that since I knew Father Roger, the card I got would be more effective.

I refused to go, and he lashed out, calling me heartless, eventually forcing me to climb the hill. I was newly pregnant, and after the climb, I had a scare. Fortunately, a hospital visit and a timely intervention ensured everything was alright.

Since that incident, Catalina frequently claimed to have high fevers, saying she felt frightened each time. And each time, Jesus would insist I go fetch a card, ignoring that I was heavily pregnant with his child. He assumed I’d go this time after seeing the message, and when he realized I hadn't, he was furious.

I casually lied, "My stomach hurts. I can't climb."

His angry voice pierced the room.

"If you couldn’t go, why didn’t you say so earlier? I’ll have to go myself now! Catalina suffered an extra hour because of you!"

"Cali, I truly regret not making you terminate the pregnancy back then. And even more so, I regret marrying you!"

I replied with a simple "Oh," and ended the call.