Love Lost, Found Again

Cleo hurriedly left work to accompany me to the hospital for the procedure. Worried that I might catch a chill, she brought a coat and gently placed it over my shoulders, her eyes red with concern. I sensed her hesitation; she wanted to ask something but feared it might upset me. I gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm not marrying Yusuf," I said. "I refuse to let my child be the reason that ties me to him."

With someone to lean on, my tears finally came. Cleo just held me close, warming my cold hands and heart with her embrace.

The procedure was quick, and soon enough, I was wheeled out. Madelyn helped me out of the hospital and drove me home before hurrying back to work.

As I lay in bed, I picked up my phone and noticed a friend request notification. It was from a girl. Curious, I clicked on her profile. Her cover photo showed a hand entwined with another—a hand that looked all too familiar. It was Yusuf's hand, scarred on the back from the time he tried to cook for me for the first time and got burned by oil.

I remembered him back then, his eyes shining as he watched me taste his dish. I remembered him smiling softly, saying, "As long as you enjoy it, I don't mind the pain."

The girl's latest post showed a bouquet of roses with a jewelry box nestled in the center—inside was a necklace. The caption read, "One-year anniversary." So, it started even before he proposed to me. I only realized it today.

The anesthesia wore off, and a sharp pain pulsed through my lower abdomen, sweat chilling my skin.

Click.

Yusuf returned, changing his shoes as he stepped inside. Holding a bouquet of roses, he entered the bedroom and knelt by my bedside, apology written all over his face.

"Sweetie, the university suddenly gave me an assignment today, and I couldn't get away," he said. "But it's okay, we can check the calendar and find another good day."

When I still didn't respond, he assumed I was upset. "Don't be angry, sweetheart, I brought you a gift to make up for it."

He silently watched me, then handed me the roses and opened the gift box in the middle. It was a necklace—identical to the one in that girl's post.