Love in the Eye of the Storm

After returning home, I felt an unsettling sense of unfamiliarity creeping in. This place once held every precious memory of me and Tristan.

I opened the drawer and found the pregnancy report nestled within. I still remember his face the day we discovered the news—an expression of unbridled joy that couldn't have been feigned. He'd even gently traced my stomach, whispering in awe, "So… our baby is really in here? Say hello to Daddy, little one."

I had laughed, nudging him. "It's only two weeks. He's not ready to say hello just yet."

But Tristan, sweeping back a loose strand of my hair, was undeterred. "Oh, he will. First word's going to be 'Daddy'—I'm making sure of it."

He even bought a stethoscope just to hear the baby's heartbeat, leaning over with that smile of his that made my heart flutter. "Emily, look! He moved!"

I had imagined a future where our child would bring his heart back to me.

Now, all of it felt like a mirage.

I tore the pregnancy report to shreds and began to gather my personal belongings. As I rummaged through my things, I came across a stack of photos of me and Tristan.

During the early stages of my pregnancy, I had eagerly begged him to take pictures with me. My parents, though outwardly a couple, lacked genuine affection, and my childhood memories were often overshadowed by their coldness.

I wanted to create beautiful memories for our child, believing that these photos would be the perfect record of our family's happiness.

I envisioned a week-by-week collection, a total of ten photos to capture the joy of our journey together. I had always cherished them dearly.

My fingers gently brushed over the images, and I couldn't help but wonder when it was that Tristan began to show impatience with the idea of taking photos. Perhaps it wasn't the act of photographing that frustrated him, but rather me.

I tore up the photos and tossed them into the trash bin.

As I continued searching, I stumbled upon a pair of tiny shoes my best friend had given me for my unborn child. "Tiger shoes," she'd called them, saying they'd suit either a boy or girl. My hands shook as I packed them away, knowing my child would never wear them.

Just as I finished packing, my mother called. After a moment's hesitation, I answered. Her voice trembled with concern. "Emily… are you alright? Is the baby alright?"

She had been in poor health lately, and I'd kept my hospitalization from her. Her sudden concern stung, but I steadied myself. "I'm fine, Mom. Don't worry."

"Oh, my silly girl. I'm relieved. Last night, I had this horrible nightmare. I dreamt that you were swept away by a flood, and my dear grandchild was crying in the water. Then this morning, I saw on the news that parts of the city were flooded. It scared me to death! Thank goodness you and my grandson are safe."

Safe? If it hadn't been for the rescue team, I would've drowned with my unborn child in that flood.

Yet I couldn't bring myself to tell her.

"Emily," she said softly, "keep that amulet I gave you close. It's meant to keep you both safe."

I tore through the drawers, but I couldn't find the amulet anywhere.

Gripping my phone tightly, I choked out, "Mom, I… I can't find the amulet."

After my father's death, she'd returned to the countryside, saying she needed to stay close to his grave. They'd bickered endlessly in life, but now, death had separated them.

Our relationship had grown distant, too. Yet when I told her I was pregnant, she'd climbed 9,999 steps up the mountain to reach a holy temple, just to bring me that amulet.

When she placed it in my hands, she had gently touched my stomach and gently said, "I have only one wish now… for you both to be safe and happy."

Tears had stung my eyes then. "Mom, are you crazy? You're too old to be climbing up mountains!"

She'd chuckled, her smile simple. "The gods listen when the heart is sincere. Our little one will grow up safe and sound now."

I clutched the phone, muffling my sobs. Her love, always silent, had grown and spread to my child.

Safe and sound… those words felt like a cruel fantasy now.

After ending the call, I texted Tristan: [The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them as soon as possible.]

Leaving the villa that had once been our sanctuary, I took everything that belonged to me and headed straight to the hospital.

The procedure left me frail and hazy with exhaustion. I fell into a fitful sleep.

When I woke, my phone flashed with message after message from Tristan.