Divorce After Deception

When Leo stepped through the door, Rory immediately put on an air of innocence and vulnerability.

I asked him coolly, "Leo, aren't you curious about where our baby is?"

Only then did he seem to recall he hadn't seen the child since he'd arrived. "Oh right, where's the baby?"

I forced a bitter smile, "I had severe complications during childbirth, and the baby..."

"Oh. With complications, they usually keep the babies in incubators," he interrupted casually, pulling out a box of cold mozzarella sticks and lowering his voice. "Here, didn’t you say mozzarella sticks always cheer you up? I grabbed some for you. You look alright, so help yourself."

"Rory's still not well, she shouldn't be standing too long. I'll help her back," Leo said. "She needs me or things might get worse for her."

I didn’t respond, just accepted the cold mozzarella sticks. I recalled back in college, Leo would sneak out late at night to get me mozzarella sticks when I was upset. He once got locked out and spent a freezing night outside the dorm. Back then, I told him they were the happiest mozzarella sticks I'd ever had. But now, his gestures felt as cold and cheap as the sticks.

Leaning on my crutch, holding my waist, I struggled to make my way to the restroom.

Suddenly, Rory stumbled and fell into Leo's arms. He quickly tensed, catching her, and held her like she was a fragile treasure. Rory lifted her head, our eyes meeting momentarily, as she wrapped her arms around Leo’s neck, planting a deep kiss on his cheek. Leo responded tenderly, giving her a soft kiss on the lips, showing deep affection like two people very much in love.

Rory threw me a triumphant look, her eyes brimming with satisfaction, silently boasting of her contentment.

I took a deep breath and continued my painful journey to the bathroom, overhearing the nurses whispering.

"That Miss Wilson has really had a tough break; she miscarried, yet Mr. Wilson isn't even by her side. If it were me, I'd raise hell."

"Yeah, Miss Wilson is supposed to be from a well-off family, yet she puts up with all this."

I tried to block out the chatter, entered the bathroom, and shut the door, seeking refuge from those cutting remarks.

Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my pale reflection. Was my persistence worth it?