One Missed Call Killed Our Baby

Chapter 1

I was burning up with fever when Andrew called, asking me to pick up Matthew from the train station.

"Something urgent came up," he said.

Something urgent? My heart thudded, a mix of fear and fury. What the hell could be more urgent than our son?

But I didn't argue. I never do anymore. What's the point? I just swallowed the rage and dragged myself out the door.

By the time I got to the station, my head was pounding and my mind was racing. There were flashing lights, police cars, ambulances. My stomach dropped. I panicked.

I searched frantically through the crowd, my pulse pounding in my ears, until I saw him.

Matthew.

Lying on the ground, still as stone.

"Matthew!" I screamed, running to him, clutching his bloody body. My baby, my baby, gone in a heartbeat.

And then my phone buzzed.

Claire.

Andrew's first love. She'd posted a picture of the two of them grinning like high school sweethearts, not a care in the world.

How dare they?

Hands shaking, I took a screenshot and sent it to Andrew.

[Is this why you left Matthew by himself?]

No reply.

Coward.

I cremated Matthew alone. Held the burial alone. Where was Andrew?

Probably still tangled in bed with Claire.

Sure enough, days later, he finally texted.

[Matthew's not a baby anymore, Emily. He can take care of himself. Claire needs me.]

Unbelievable.

[Let's divorce then,] I replied, not a shred of regret in my chest. Good riddance to thirty wasted years.

Andrew used to be my whole world. We grew up together, went to school together. I was that pathetic girl trailing behind him like a lost puppy. Always cheering him on, even when he was with Claire.

I don't even know when I fell in love with him. Maybe it was always there. A slow, steady burn that turned into a wildfire. When Claire left, I finally confessed. We got married. Had Matthew. And for a while, I tricked myself into thinking it was enough.

But I was wrong. I was just second place. The girl he settled for because she was conveniently close. Not because he ever truly wanted me.

And maybe… that's on me. I should've left back then. But no, this dumb girl chose to be even dumber.

Well, not anymore.

I stood by my son's grave, tears long gone. I had trusted his father with him just once, and look what happened. I can't even imagine how scared Matthew must've been, dying all alone.

He was just a kid. He deserved so much more.

As I stood up, vowing to move on, I saw them, Andrew and Claire, walking toward me. Claire had an urn in her hands. Her face looked pale, worn-out.

What the hell is this?

Andrew's expression, pitying. Tender, even.

I almost laughed. Since when did this asshole grow a heart?

Oh, right. Claire's around. She's the magic switch.

"Babe, this cemetery's so pretty! Look at all the flowers! Milo would've loved it, right?" Claire said, her voice sugary-sweet and fragile.

Milo?

Wasn't that her dog?

Andrew looked like he was about to say something, but then he noticed me. His expression shifted instantly, like I was a roach crawling across his perfect picnic.

"Emily, you're never gonna stop, are you?" he snapped. "You talk about divorce, now you're following me here? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Oh, the audacity.

Like I had time to stalk this loser and watch him play happy family with his mistress and her dead dog.

He stormed over, face twisted with disgust.

Did I flinch? Did I cry?

Please.

I looked him dead in the eyes and said, cold as ice:

"Get lost."

Each word a knife.

He already took everything from me.

There's nothing left to say.