One Missed Call Killed Our Baby

Chapter 7

Absolutely, here's a more natural, emotionally charged version in authentic American English while preserving all the important beats, character dynamics, and raw intensity:

I didn't bother packing any of my things. I just grabbed Matthew's.

His were the only things worth holding onto.

As I was about to leave, Andrew showed up, looking drained, like he hadn't slept in days.

"Emily," he said, holding out a box like it was a peace offering, "I brought you some chocolate cake."

I barely looked at him. He didn't deserve my attention.

"I never even liked chocolate cake," I said flatly.

"I just pretended to because you did."

His expression crumbled. He stared at the box, then back at me.

He loved that stupid cake.

I used to go out of my way to get it for him, even if it meant a detour in traffic or skipping lunch.

I told him I liked it too, just to make him happy.

Because that's what love looks like sometimes, silent, inconvenient, and completely one-sided.

"I thought… I thought it might help," he mumbled.

I let out a sharp laugh.

"Help? With what, Andrew? You think cake is gonna fix this? Bring Matthew back? Are you actually that dense?"

Thirty years.

I spent thirty years putting him first.

Before we were anything, I was his best friend, the one cheering him on while he chased other girls.

Once we got together, I became the girlfriend who bent over backward to keep him happy.

And after we got married, I was the wife who managed everything while he lived like he didn't have a care in the world.

All he had to do was exist, and I still gave him everything.

And the worst part? I was fine with just a smile. A thank you. A little scrap of gratitude.

So sure, I blamed him.

But I blamed myself more.

"Emily," he said softly, "I know I messed up, bad. But we can start over, can't we? I'll leave Claire. We can try for another baby. We can rebuild. I'll do it right this time. I'll take care of you."

For the first time in a long while, he actually sounded sincere.

And maybe, if Matthew were still alive, that might've meant something.

I mean, how could it not? I loved him for so long.

But now?

Now, everything was different.

"Another baby?" I whispered, my voice shaking.

"Another baby? Matthew was our son. Our son, Andrew. And you left him behind. You think a new child is just gonna erase that? Like he's some... some replaceable mistake?"

His eyes welled up.

"I'm not trying to replace him," he said. "I just... I don't want to lose you too."

"You already did," I said coldly.

"The second you chose your freedom over your family, you lost me."

His face crumpled like paper in the rain.

"Emily, please," he begged. "I know I've been selfish. But I love you. I always have."

I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound.

"Love? Don't talk to me about love. Love is selfless, Andrew. Love is sacrifice. And I sacrificed everything, for you. For this family. And what did I get back?"

I pointed around the room, to the emptiness that surrounded us.

"Loneliness. Heartbreak. And now, the death of our son."

"We can fix this," he said, taking a step forward. "We can get through this, together."

He reached for me, but I recoiled. Even the thought of his touch made my skin crawl.

"There's no fixing this," I said. "No going back."

My voice was ice. Final.

"When you walked away from Matthew, that was the end."