He Called My Pain Dramatic, So I Stopped Begging Him to Care

4: 4

Three days after I was discharged, I went back to campus for classes.

My classmates saw me return and asked, curious.

"Barbara, where did you disappear to? You were out a whole month."

I smiled and explained.

"Nothing much. Just had a minor surgery."

Nobody pressed further.

Time moved fast. My first semester of freshman year ended, we got through the winter holidays, and two more months of the new term went by.

Then, in a lecture hall one day, I had just sat down when someone appeared beside me.

Byron set an iced latte on my desk.

"Barbara, I got you your favorite. The iced latte."

I looked at him. It felt like a whole lifetime ago. I hadn't seen him once since orientation training, long enough that I'd nearly forgotten he existed.

My eyes narrowed slightly. Byron kept talking.

"Barbara, I lost my temper with you back then, and you never came looking for me either. Forget it. What can I do, I like you. So I went and bought your favorite drink myself, to ask you to forgive me. Let's make up."

Byron had never bought me anything. The only time he ever did was...

I checked the time. In my past life, this was the exact day Gay framed me. And that day, it was the drink Byron gave me that made me suddenly break out in an allergic reaction. Back then I'd been thrilled about it, thinking Byron was treating me better and better.

Now I understood. Byron had done it on purpose.

I shoved the drink away.

"I don't want it."

But he forced it back into my hand.

"Barbara, orientation training was ages ago. Are you still holding it against me? I stood in line an hour to get you this."

The other students joined in, urging us together.

"Barbara, Byron's being so sincere. Just take him back."

I looked at him coldly.

"I've cut out sugar lately. Can't I skip a drink?"

Then I stood up, walked off, and switched seats. Byron tried to follow, but every seat around me was already taken.

I wasn't going back to the dorm. I wanted to see exactly how Gay planned to frame me this time.

Half the class passed. My body went cold, and a violent pain tore through my stomach.

That was when Byron came over and spoke up.

"Professor, Barbara isn't feeling well. Let me walk her back to the dorm."

The professor nodded.

I wanted to refuse, but Byron didn't give me the chance. He grabbed me and hauled me straight out of the classroom.

As we passed the infirmary, I shoved him off, ran inside, and locked the door behind me.

I lay back on the infirmary cot, trying to ease the pain.

I don't know how much time passed before the door was kicked open.

Gay walked in with a few classmates.

The classmates saw me and looked startled, about to speak.

The next second, I heard Gay's inner voice.

"What do I do? Should I tell everyone Barbara took leave and ran to the infirmary to secretly give birth? The baby's right there on the operating table."

My heart lurched. In my past life it was the dorm bathroom. Why was it the infirmary operating table now?

The classmates beside Gay pushed open the door to the surgical room.

On the bed lay a dark-skinned baby boy, his neck covered in strangling marks, no longer breathing.

"Barbara, secretly giving birth in the infirmary is one thing, but you strangled him too? Even a beast won't devour its own young. How could you be this vicious?"

I fought to defend myself.

"It wasn't me. This baby isn't mine. It's—"

Before I could finish, Byron walked in and slapped me across the face.

"Barbara, no wonder you were so cold to me. You cheated on me, and then you strangled your own child. How could you be so heartless?"

My roommate stared at me in disgust.

"No wonder Barbara hasn't had her period in months. Turns out she was pregnant."

One of the boys in the class spat out filth.

"And she had it with a Black guy. Barbara, you look so innocent, but you get around, don't you. Even a Black man's baby."

"Barbara, could one Black guy even satisfy you? Add me in. I won't charge you, and I'll make it even better."

I looked at them coldly.

"This is not my child. There's no way I could have given birth to a child."

Before I could finish, someone shoved me down.

"Barbara, you did it but you won't own it, huh?"

Another classmate spotted the medical report that had fallen out of my bag and picked it up.

"Barbara, your report is right here. What's left to argue?"

Then, word by word, that classmate read out what was written on it.

"Post-hysterectomy recovery examination..."

Every single one of them went silent.