TAMSIN

"How could you?"

James's voice came out raw and broken.

"How could you betray me like this? Lie about being pregnant just to manipulate me into killing my child?" He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing. "Do you understand what you almost made me do? I was going to make Isla terminate. Because I believed you. Because I trusted you."

The words landed like blows.

"What kind of person does that?" His voice cracked. "What kind of person uses a fake pregnancy as a weapon?"

I stood there. Frozen. Tears sliding down my face.

He looked at me one more time. Something that might have been pain flashed across his face. Then he turned and walked out.

The silence that followed felt like drowning.

I became aware of movement behind me and turned my head slowly.

Isla was smiling. Not the careful, tragic smile she wore for James. This one was pure triumph.

She turned to Mrs. Whitmore, who immediately swept her into another embrace.

"Don't worry, darling," the older woman cooed. "We'll get you married to James before the baby comes. You'll be family. Properly this time."

I turned away, and walked back toward the bedroom on legs that didn't feel attached to my body.

Of course I was a fool, I thought. What was I expecting? James never planned to choose me. It was all performance. In the end, he showed me exactly where I stood.

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to grip the doorframe.

I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up.

Afterward, I stood at the sink, hands shaking, hungry but unable to imagine eating. There was this tightness in my chest that made breathing feel like work.

I quickly washed up, went back to the bedroom, and started packing what was left of my things.

Then, I heard footsteps behind me.

I didn't turn around. Maybe James had come back. Maybe he'd realized how wrong he was.

But it was too late. My mind was made up.

But the voice that spoke wasn't his.

"Leaving so soon?"

I turned. Isla stood in the doorway, that smile still playing at her lips.

My stomach cramped, hard. I didn't have the energy for this.

"Yes," I said flatly. "You can have him."

She laughed. It was soft and musical. "Oh, Tamsin. You are not giving him to me. I'm taking back what was always mine." She stepped into the room. "James belonged to me long before you showed up and stole him. But don't worry. I'm here to correct that mistake now."

I'd suspected it for months. The way she looked at him. The way she inserted herself into every corner of our marriage. But hearing her say it out loud still landed like a blow.

"Congratulations," I managed. "You've won."

Because she had. There was nothing left to salvage here. The man I'd loved was gone. The one left behind was a stranger who thought I was capable of faking a pregnancy to destroy his child.

That hurt worse than anything else. Worse than the affair. Worse than the baby. Worse than all of it.

He thought I was lying.

I tried to lift my suitcase, but it was too heavy. My arms felt like water, so I left it on the floor.

James had destroyed my phone. I'd have to go out if I needed someone to help with my luggage. It was better to leave now and come back for my things later.

I was halfway to the door when Isla's hand shot out, grabbed my arm and shoved me backward.

"That bastard in your stomach won't save you," she hissed.

I staggered, and caught myself on the bedpost.

Something in me snapped.

My hand flew up before I thought about it, and connected with her face with a crack that echoed.

Isla screamed. Loud enough to wake the dead.

I didn't care. I raised my hand a second time, but James burst through the door and caught my wrist mid-swing.

"Tammy, stop!" His voice was sharp with shock. "What are you doing?"

I tried to pull away, but he held on, though not roughly. Like he was trying to restrain me without hurting me.

Isla sobbed. Perfect, theatrical sobs. "I only came to talk to her. To ask her not to be angry with you. To give my baby a chance because it's yours too." Her voice broke beautifully. "She just attacked me for no reason."

"Let me go," I said through my teeth.

James released my wrist and stepped back.

I stumbled, and my foot caught on the suitcase. I tried to catch myself but my body was moving wrong, too fast.

My stomach slammed into the bedpost.

Pain exploded through me. White-hot and terrible.

I cried out. Doubled over. One hand clutching my abdomen. I collapsed forward, upper body draping over the bed, legs still on the floor. I couldn't straighten. I couldn't move.

Something warm trickled down my inner thighs.

TAMSIN

"James..." My voice came out weak. Shaking. "Please. Help me. My baby..."

"Tammy, please." His voice was strained. "After everything today, I can't... I need you to stop."

"My baby..." Tears streamed down my face. I was bent over the bed, and I could feel the wetness spreading. I knew what it meant. "Don't let me lose my baby. Please. Take me to the hospital."

My vision started to blur at the edges. Everything going soft and distant.

I turned my head slightly. James stood near the door, his face a mask of conflict. Pain and doubt warring in his eyes.

He took a step toward me.

Then Isla made a sound. A horrible, choking gasp.

I couldn't see her from my position, but I heard the thud as she hit the floor.

"Isla!" James's voice went sharp with panic.

Through my darkening vision, I saw him drop to his knees beside her. Saw her body jerking. Convulsing.

A seizure.

His face went white. "Oh God. Isla. Isla, stay with me."

He scooped her into his arms. Her head lolled back, body still twitching.

He looked back at me, and for one second, our eyes met.

I saw the torment there.

"I'll come back for you," he said, voice breaking. "I promise. I have to get her to the hospital. I'll come back."

While he was running with Isla's limp body in his arms, her head turned and for a brief second, she opened her eyes and stared at me, as her lips curved into a smile.

Then he was gone.

I tried to call after him, tried to tell him about the blood, but my voice wouldn't work anymore.

I was alone.

The cramping got worse. A sharp, tearing pain that made breathing impossible.

I looked down. Blood pooled on the floor beneath me. Dark. Too much.

My baby.

I tried to move. Tried to reach for something, anything. But my body wouldn't respond.

The room tilted and my legs gave out.

I slid to the floor in slow motion. The blood warm beneath me.

Then everything went black.

-

I opened my eyes and gasped.

I was on the floor. Blood everywhere. My blood. Soaking through my dress, pooled beneath me, dark and thick.

How long had I been unconscious?

I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't hold me. I collapsed back down.

My baby.

I had to get to the hospital. I had to try.

I started crawling, my knees scraping against the floor, but I didn't care. If there was even the smallest chance my baby was still alive, I'd crawl through broken glass to reach it.

My phone. I needed my phone.

I found it in the living room, shattered. James had destroyed it. I had no way to call for help.

Tears streamed down my face. Pain radiated from my abdomen, my knees, but worst of all, from somewhere deep in my chest that had nothing to do with physical injury.

I kept crawling. I had to get to my car. Had to drive myself to the road, flag down a cab and get to the hospital.

It took forever to find my keys. I grabbed them with shaking hands.

Getting into the car was agony. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through me. My dress was soaked through. More blood on the seat.

I didn't care.

I started the engine, my hands trembling so badly I could barely grip the wheel.

Just get to the main road. Just get help.

My vision kept blurring. I blinked hard, trying to clear it. My mouth was dry as sand, lips cracked, throat burning with thirst.

The driveway seemed endless.

Finally, the main road. I could see it. Just a little further.

My vision dimmed at the edges and everything was going dark.

No. Not yet. Please.

I didn't see the post until I hit it.

The airbag exploded into my face. There was pain, and then darkness.

-

I became aware of white lights, chemical smell, and beeping machines.

I opened my eyes slowly. Everything hurt. My forehead throbbed. My arms felt heavy.

Someone was holding my hand.

I turned my head. James sat beside the bed, gripping my fingers like they were the only thing keeping him anchored. His eyes were red and wet.

"You're awake." His voice cracked with relief. "Thank God, you're awake."

I looked to my right. Patience stood there. One of the nurses I'd worked with for years. Her eyes were red too.

"My baby." The words scraped out of my throat. "How is my baby?"

Patience's face crumpled. She took my other hand, squeezed it gently.

"I'm so sorry, Tamsin." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Your baby didn't make it."

The words landed. I felt them hit. Then I felt nothing.

"The crash?" I asked. My voice sounded flat. "I lost it in the crash?"

"The pregnancy was already compromised from the bleeding." Patience's professional mask was slipping. I could see her grief underneath. "If you'd gotten to the hospital sooner, we might have been able to save it. But the accident..." She trailed off.

I nodded. "I see."

"But you can try again," She added too quickly. Like she needed to fill the silence with something hopeful. "Your womb is intact. There's no reason you can't conceive again when you're..."

"Thank you, Patience." I cut her off gently. "I appreciate it."

I closed my eyes. Heard her moving around the room, checking monitors, and adjusting things I couldn't see.

Then the door clicked shut.

I opened my eyes again and looked at James. He was still holding my hand like he had the right to.

He wiped his face with his free hand. "I'm so sorry, Tammy. I was coming back for you when..."

"James."

He stopped. Looked at me with those red, desperate eyes.

"It's enough," I said quietly. "Let's get a divorce."

TAMSIN

James sat beside my hospital bed, staring at me in stunned silence, as though he had not been the cause of the blood that stained my dress, the bruises on my skin, and the unbearable emptiness inside my body.

His presence filled the room, familiar and unwelcome all at once, and I wondered how a man could look so much like home and still feel like a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he finally found his voice, it was low and rough, the kind of voice that once convinced me he meant every word he spoke. “Tammy, I swear to you, I didn’t know you were telling the truth. I was blinded by my mom's words. If I had known you were truly pregnant, if I had even suspected it, none of this would have happened. I would never have left you. Never.”

I did not look at him. I kept my gaze fixed on the ceiling, on the faint crack that ran through one of the tiles above my bed, thin and crooked, like something broken that had been ignored for too long.

“I don’t want a divorce,” he continued, his hand closing around mine as though he feared I might disappear if he let go. “I don’t understand how you can even think of living without me when I cannot live without you. You are my wife. My life. How am I supposed to exist without you, Tammy?”

The words were passionate, dramatic, and tragically familiar. Once, they would have undone me completely.

“My mind is made up,” I said quietly.

He shook his head, a faint note of frustration creeping into his expression. “You are just reacting to the loss of our baby. You are grieving, saying things you do not mean because you are in pain.”

I almost smiled at that.

“You do not mean what you just said,” he insisted. “I know you better than anyone else. I know your heart. We cannot survive apart. You cannot survive without me.”

I closed my eyes then, not because I was overwhelmed, but because I knew that if I opened them, I would do something crazy and that was bad for my condition.

“Please leave,” I said.

Instead of releasing my hand, he tightened his grip, his other hand covering mine as if he could hold me in place by sheer will alone. “I am not leaving. I will stay with you through your entire hospital stay. I will take you home. I will take care of you. I will not leave your side, Tammy. I promise.”

The door opened before I could respond.

A nurse stood hesitantly in the doorway. “Mr. Whitmore, Miss Parker is asking for you. She says she is in pain and insists on seeing you.”

James stilled. I felt it, the exact moment his promise expired.

“I will be right back,” he said, already standing. “Just a few minutes.”

I watched him leave in a rush, his concern swift and urgent, moving in a direction that had never truly included me.

“James,” I murmured to the empty room, my voice steady despite everything. “Do not make promises you cannot keep.”

The door opened again almost immediately.

For a brief, foolish moment, I thought he had returned.

It was Poppy.

She stopped short when she saw me, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God, Tammy.”

She crossed the room quickly and took my hand, her fingers trembling. “I tried calling you. Over and over. When you did not answer, I called James. He told me you were here.” Her voice broke. “What happened to you?”

“My baby,” I said, the words scraping painfully out of my throat. “I've lost my baby.”

Her face crumpled, and without hesitation she climbed carefully onto the bed beside me and wrapped her arms around me. That was when everything I had been holding back finally broke loose.

I cried until my chest ached and my throat burned, until the question that had been circling inside me tore free. “Why am I so unlucky? What did I do wrong? What happened to my life?”

She cried with me, holding me tightly, whispering that none of it was my fault.

When the storm passed and we pulled apart, she wiped her face and looked at me closely. “The last time we talked, you were so excited. You were planning that dinner. You were going to surprise James. What happened?”

So I told her.

I told her everything.

By the time I finished, her hands were clenched into fists. “I cannot believe this. James? James loved you. I was sure of it.”

“So was I.”

“I want to leave this hospital,” I said after a moment. "Can I move in with you for a while?"

She protested at first, insisting I wasn't strong enough to leave, but when she saw my face, she nodded. “You can stay with me. As long as you need.”

She helped me dress and supported me as we slowly made our way down the corridor toward discharge. That was when we passed Isla’s room.

The door was open.

“I just want Tamsin to take care of me,” Isla said tearfully. “The doctors say it is high risk, but I trust her. She loves you so much, James. I know without a doubt that she will make sure nothing happens to our baby.”

I stopped walking, and just stood there, staring at them.

“She is a doctor, regardless of her field,” Isla continued. “She knows hospitals. She will notice complications early. I will feel safe with her. Then, after the baby is born, I can leave your lives completely and disappear for good.”

James stood beside her bed, visibly uncomfortable. "But Isla..."

“If anything happens to our baby,” Isla added softly, cutting him off, “it will be your fault.”

James exhaled slowly. “Fine,” he gave in. “I will make Tammy take a year off from work to care for your baby, happy now?”

My nails dug into my palms.

Poppy tightened her arm around my waist. I could tell she was struggling to control her anger at this point.

Isla wrapped her arms around James' body, her face radiating joy as she hugged his waist and thanked him for agreeing.

Then, to my surprise, she looked toward the door and her eyes met mine.

She smiled.

And in that moment, I understood that every single action of hers was calculated and planned. She came prepared for battle.

She was winning.

And James, whether he meant to or not, was letting her.