Fractured Faith, Rekindled Affection

When Jordan finally called, I was still in the hospital. I looked at his name on the screen, feeling nothing but frustration.

I didn’t answer and just let it ring, over and over.

He stopped after the third call. As I stared at the forty missed calls I’d made to him earlier, it hit me. Whatever love he had for me was long gone.

Jordan must not be used to me ignoring him because he soon sent a text. [Why aren’t you home? Don’t you know it’s dangerous for you to be out while you’re pregnant?]

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

Instead, I replied, [I had a miscarriage. I’m in the hospital.]

His call came through immediately. His first words were, “Caroline, are you serious? First, you threaten me with divorce, and now this. What else are you going to throw at me?”

His voice was ice-cold, like he hadn’t even considered the fact that I’d been caught in a blizzard while pregnant.

And the irony? He’s a gynecologist.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to say another word to him.

Just then, a call from work came in. I hung up on Jordan and took the work call instead, throwing myself into the meeting. I realized I needed to start focusing on my career and preparing for a life without him.

I spent three days in the hospital before Jordan finally noticed something was off.

He called and asked, “Are you mad at me? Why haven’t you come home?”

“Work’s been hectic. I’ve been sleeping at the office,” I lied, too tired to argue.

He seemed uneasy with how distant I was and said, “I’m on day shifts today. I’ll come pick you up tonight.”

“Sure,” I said and hung up.

But I had already booked a ride home. I wasn’t counting on Jordan to pick me up.

That blizzard made me realize I couldn’t rely on him.

Since then, we barely spoke. I just let our conversations fade and focused on work.

By the time I got home that night, having taken the Uber, Jordan finally called. “I thought I was supposed to pick you up. Where are you?”

“Oh, I forgot. I’m already home,” I said.

“Caroline, what’s your deal? Are you still upset about that snowstorm? I told you that I had something important to deal with that day.” His tone was sharp, clearly irritated.

I felt drained. “Jordan, how many times have you actually picked me up? Do you even remember? It only takes me ten minutes to get home on my own, but I’ve waited until ten at night because you said you’d come, only for you to cancel last minute. So is it really that strange that I forgot you offered this time?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then just hung up.

I shrugged. This was typical of him, making promises and then breaking them like it was nothing.

I made myself a bowl of noodles and a small side dish, savoring the food.

It struck me how long it had been since I’d eaten a hot meal right after cooking it. Back when we first got married, even after I got pregnant, I always came home early to cook. But Jordan rarely made it home for dinner.

I usually ended up reheating the cold food just to eat by myself.

Whenever I tried to tell Jordan how I felt, he’d snap, “I’m a doctor. I’m busy. If you don’t like it, don’t cook. But don’t complain after you’ve made it. I can’t revolve my life around you.”

Back then, I felt bad for him, thinking his job was hard and stressful. After he’d lash out, I stopped asking for anything and just quietly waited for him to come around.

But soon, I realized things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

When Jordan came home, my meal was almost finished, and the side dishes were nearly gone.

He looked at the empty plates and, clearly annoyed, asked, “Caroline, where’s my dinner?”

“You can make something yourself. There are leftovers in the fridge,” I said, not even looking at him as I tossed the remnants of my meal into the trash.

Jordan lost his temper completely. He grabbed me and demanded, “Why have you been so difficult these last few days? I’ve tried to make things right. What more do you want? Why are you always causing trouble?”

“Jordan, if I say I’m not causing trouble and you still don’t believe me, then call it trouble. I’ve been working all day and I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed now. Please try to be a bit quieter,” I said, turning to walk away.

A moment later, I turned back and added, “Oh, and since I’m pregnant and you keep disturbing me, let’s sleep in separate rooms. I’ve already moved your stuff to the guest room.”

His face turned dark as he heard me. He grabbed his car keys and stormed out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the walls.

I shook my head, thinking how childish he was being.