He Never Let Her Go, So I Pulled My Millions

2: 2

Back at the apartment, I started packing.

A cramp seized my lower belly, so sharp it pulled at everything inside me, and in an instant cold sweat soaked my forehead.

It was almost midnight. I found my phone, my fingers shaking so hard it took three tries before I could tap Blake's name.

Curled up in the entryway, my head swimming in waves, I was sure he wouldn't pick up.

Then his voice came through, kept low:

"Hey. It's so late, why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Blake... my stomach hurts. It hurts really bad..."

My teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

On the other end, there was a faint woman's voice.

His tone sharpened a little:

"I've got something going on here, I can't get away. See if you have any ibuprofen."

"I can't stand up..." I gulped for air, the cramps tightening wave after wave. "It hurts so much... I can't hold on much longer."

Two seconds of silence on the line.

"Wait for me."

I gripped the phone after the call cut off, warmth rushing through me, tears sliding down.

Memories came flooding back. During my internship, my appendix flared up and I was curled on the floor in agony.

Blake, who'd just pulled an all-nighter, hoisted me onto his back without a word and broke a bone in his hand racing me to the hospital.

The doctor said ten minutes later it would have ruptured and killed me. In that moment I made a quiet vow: I owed him my life.

Blake, I'm giving you one last chance.

One second, two seconds. I waited over forty minutes.

My stomach still cramping, the sweat on my forehead running down, dripping onto the back of my hand.

Hope guttered out, bit by bit.

Just as I was about to give up, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door. The man outside was holding a clear plastic bag.

"Hi, here's your medicine." He held the bag out.

Inside was a box of ibuprofen, a bottle of water, and a handwritten sticky note.

【Take the medicine first, I've got something I can't get away from.】

The motion-sensor light went dark. The courier was already gone.

I shut the door and slid down against it, my back pressed hard to the panel.

I swallowed the pills dry. Only bitterness, not the slightest relief.

And on Muriel's feed, there was a photo of a scarred hand. That scar came from him breaking his hand to save me.

The floor tiles were freezing, the cold traveling from the soles of my feet all the way to my chest.

The person I was waiting for wasn't coming.

I held up an umbrella and dragged myself, step by painful step, to the ER.

Lining up for the blood draw, then the ultrasound, my fingers shaking the whole time, I couldn't stop them.

Behind me a familiar shout went off, crisp and clear down the quiet corridor.

"You really are dumber than a mule! Boiling water splashes and you don't even move out of the way?"

It was Blake's voice, scolding, panicked with after-the-fact fear.

I turned my head stiffly.

Muriel's hand was red across the back, a fine scatter of blisters rising on it. She hung her head. "It was just a little splash, it's not serious. You didn't have to bring me all the way to the hospital."

"Have some sense. If those blisters get infected and scar, then what?"

His voice was fierce and urgent, and his hand lifted, gently avoiding her burn, the motion impossibly tender.

"Just sit still and wait for them to dress it."

Muriel looked up, her eyes rimmed red. "Blake... thank you. For picking my birthday to get married."

A roar in my ears.

My mind went completely blank, everything ringing.

My fingertips clenched all at once, crushing that ultrasound sheet, the edge of the paper biting into my fingerpads, almost cutting through skin.

The wedding date Blake swore a master had calculated, the great and only auspicious day it had to be, was Muriel's birthday.

A vast absurdity and disgust washed over me, my stomach heaving violently.

I bent double, pressing hard on my belly, dry-heaving so hard it felt like everything inside me had been wrenched out of place.

Muriel's sharp eyes caught me first.

Her gaze held on my face for a second, then she lowered her head and leaned in to murmur something in Blake's ear.

Blake followed her look and turned to me, a flicker of surprise climbing into his eyes.

"Is it that bad? Why are you at the ER?"

He didn't explain why he'd brought Muriel to the hospital, and I no longer wanted to ask.

My face pale, I held on to one last breath and threw the report at him.

"I'm pregnant."