My Wedding, My Ex-Husband's Funeral

Carter sat behind the wheel, hands gripping the steering wheel, not even starting the car. He just stared at it, like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Doesn’t it bother you? Aren’t you going to throw it away?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.

I rolled my eyes from the back seat.

Seriously?

We’re on our way to the hospital, and he’s still focused on something so insignificant. I’d already made up my mind to divorce him, and yet, here he was, stuck on some stupid detail.

I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice. "Isn’t she your sister? What’s the problem? Just drive."

Maybe it was because I’d been blocking him from seeing Kierra for the past few months.

I’d told him she wasn’t welcome in our house, kept her out of his car, and got upset over every little thing that involved her.

What had he said back then? “Kierra’s like a little sister to me. She doesn’t have anyone else. I can’t just ignore her.”

Fine. They could have their little life together. Let them take care of her for the rest of their lives. I was done.

Just as I was stewing in my thoughts, Kierra called Carter.

He didn’t even try to hide it. He answered the phone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, what’s up, baby?" he said, his tone soft and affectionate—the tone he always used with her.

I could hear Kierra’s voice through the phone, sweet and calm, "Carter, is Nadine mad at you? I can explain things to her."

She sounded so calm, so innocent like she actually cared about how I was feeling.

"No, she’s not mad," Carter said, his voice warm. "She’s not the petty type."

'Sorry to disappoint you, but I am petty.'

They talked for a while longer, mostly about nothing important, before hanging up. During their chat, Carter casually mentioned we were going to the hospital like it was no big deal.

By the time the call ended, we had pulled up to the hospital.

This was the closest hospital to our house, but I hated coming here. And not just because of the sterile smell of antiseptic and the cold, clinical atmosphere. The reason was simple. I was terrified of hospitals.

In fact, a few years ago, just before our wedding, I lost our baby.

We’d been talking about wedding plans—Carter and I had been together for two years by that point. After we graduated from college, we decided it was time to get married.

We set the date for the spring, after New Year’s.

But before we could even get the marriage certificate, I found out I was pregnant—about two months along—just before the holidays.

It was a surprise to everyone, especially the McGregors. Carter was over the moon. He was ecstatic.

"Nadine," he’d said, holding me gently, his voice full of wonder, "I’m going to be a dad. We’re going to have a baby."

I was just as happy. The thought of having a little piece of us inside me felt... real, tangible. Our love was becoming something more.

We had the wedding planned for the spring, by which time my belly wouldn’t be showing too much.

And since the McGregors are from up north, it’s always cold and snowy in the winter. So that day, while sitting on the couch, eating fruit and watching TV, Carter’s so-called sister, Kierra, came over.

At that point, I didn’t have a problem with her. I thought she was sweet and understanding.

Moreover, Carter had told me Kierra was the daughter of his father’s old driver. She’d lost both her parents when she was young, and the McGregors took her in like family. Her mother treated her like a daughter, so Kierra was like a sister to Carter.

I always tried to be kind to her, out of sympathy.

But that day was different. Kierra saw the snow outside and insisted we go out and build a snowman. She was only eighteen—still a kid, four or five years younger than Carter and me.

We all thought she was just playful, and innocent. But I was wrong.

What I didn’t expect was for Kierra to deliberately push me down the snow-covered steps outside.

I tumbled hard, landing with a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. And then, there was blood.

My baby.

When I woke up, the first thing I smelled was disinfectant.

I opened my eyes and realized I was lying in a hospital bed. Carter was sitting beside me, holding my hand. He looked exhausted like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there was a tension in his face that I hadn’t seen before.

"Nadine, baby," he said, his voice shaky with relief, "you’re awake. Thank God."

I had a sinking feeling about what had happened, but I had to ask. I needed to know.

"Where’s our baby?" I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Is my baby... still there?"