Another Woman's Name on File

"You gave my car to her?" My voice echoed through the empty garage, carrying a thread of desperation I had not even realized was there.

I had chosen every ornament hanging in that car. No one other than my parents and Zachary had sat on the passenger seat, and now, just like that, he had handed over something so precious and personal to another woman.

"It's just a car." Zachary's patience had clearly run out. "Cecilia, can you not make things difficult for me right now? There's water everywhere over here! I'm hanging up. Get a ride yourself. I'll reimburse you for it."

The line went dead. I stood there holding my phone in front of the empty parking space, feeling like the world's biggest fool.

Reimburse me? Did he think everything could be measured in money? Did he think my dignity, my feelings, could all be given a price tag?

In the end, I called for a ride. Sitting in the back seat, I watched the city scenery blur past the window. The winter sunlight in Halfort was pale and weak, offering no warmth at all.

The driver was a talkative middle-aged man. He must have noticed I looked unwell because he tried to lighten the mood.

"Headed to Ford Maternity Hospital for a checkup? You look great. I bet the baby's doing wonderfully."

I managed a weak smile but said nothing.

The car moved smoothly along the main road and stopped at a red light. I glanced out the window absently, and my gaze froze.

In the adjacent lane sat a familiar white sedan, parked crookedly. It was my car. In the driver's seat sat Emma. She wore carefully applied makeup and a cream-colored cashmere coat.

She was using the rearview mirror to touch up her lipstick, a smug little smile playing on her lips. That lipstick was a limited edition I had bought just last week. I had left it in the car's storage compartment. I had not even used it once yet.

The light turned green.

Emma was probably inexperienced; she hit the gas too hard. The car shot forward with a lurch, swerving visibly and nearly sideswiping the vehicle next to her. Horns blared. She looked startled and started jerking the wheel in panic.

My driver muttered under his breath, "How does someone like that even have a license? She's just a menace on the road."

My heart jumped. I watched helplessly as my car careened through traffic. It scraped the back of a bus, then suddenly swerved hard to the right, heading straight toward us.

Everything happened in a split second. I heard the driver's terrified scream, and then a deafening crash. The violent impact threw me forward. My abdomen slammed hard into the back of the front seat.

Pain ripped through my abdomen and radiated outward. The world spun around me.

In the last second before I lost consciousness, I felt something warm flowing from between my legs. The bright red color stained my white dress.

…

When I woke again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I lay in a hospital bed surrounded by blinding white.

Instinctively, I reached for my belly. It was flat now.

A nurse walked in. Seeing I was awake, her face softened with sympathy. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

My lips moved. The voice that came out was raspy and unrecognizable. "My baby..."

The nurse's expression dimmed. She looked down, avoiding my eyes, and said quietly, "Ms. Sinclair, I'm so sorry. The impact caused severe hemorrhaging. We couldn't save the baby."

My world shattered completely. The baby I had carried for six months was gone, just like that.