Cast Away The Slipping Sand

After checking in at the hospital and getting my tetanus shot, I sat on a bench waiting for my prenatal ultrasound.

Seeing me completely soaked and coming alone, a pregnant woman next to me laughed and teased me. “Your husband must be out of town, right? If he saw you this pregnant and soaking wet, he’d be freaking out with worry.”

I shook my head, then looked at my phone.

Belle had just posted on her Instagram.

[My CEO fixed my light bulb himself. I’m making him a candlelight dinner to say thanks. Mr. Sterling is so handsome!]

My chest seized up with a sharp, aching pain.

I gently touched my lower belly and turned off my phone with trembling hands.

After the 4D ultrasound, I walked home with unsteady steps.

When I arrived home, it was empty.

While showering, the water heater suddenly broke.

When the sudden cold water hit my body, I finally broke down.

I squatted down, held my belly, and sobbed loudly.

Walter and I were childhood sweethearts. Our families had been close friends for generations. When we were kids, our grandfathers made vows that we would get married.

In my senior year of high school, my grades were better than Walter’s. To get into the same university as him, I deliberately skipped the last math question on the SAT exam.

But fate had other plans.

Walter performed exceptionally well for that particular exam. As a result, we missed going to the same university by just ten points.

During our long-distance relationship, Walter insisted on video chatting with me every day.

Once when I was too busy to answer, Walter stayed by his phone all night.

The next day, he had asked with teary eyes, “Zara, are you dumping me?”

I had comforted him and said, “Just hang on a little longer. We’ll get married after we graduate.”

On his birthday, my surprise turned into shock.

The boy who was head over heels with me was intensely doing the deed with another girl.

Walter and I should have ended long ago.

After showering, I lay in bed. My high fever made me drowsy and dizzy.

Just then, the bedroom door opened.

Walter saw my flushed cheeks and pressed his palm against my forehead.

He frowned and said, “Why are you burning up so badly?”

Then he smirked, leaned closer to me, and whispered, “The doctor said the baby is stable now that you’re in the third trimester. Don’t worry. Let me give you a shot of fever medicine. I promise it’ll knock it right out.”

Soon after, he went all the way in. I was burning up and out of it. I held him on instinct, and we got lost in the heat again.

Afterward, I noticed a glaring red mark on Walter’s neck.

My muddled brain finally cleared. At that moment, it all clicked.

How ridiculous.

If Walter truly loved me, how could he bear to vent his own desires while I was five months pregnant and burning with a high fever?