You Paid for My Funeral in Advance

That evening, I had just changed into my pajamas and was about to lie down when Adrian called.

“Family Readiness reception. Tonight. You’re coming.”

I pushed myself up against the headboard. The paper bag of medication from the hospital was still on my nightstand.

“I don’t feel well. The doctor told me to stay home and watch myself, not attend an event.”

“You were discharged, weren’t you?” His voice was flat. “Command has asked more than once why my wife never shows up to family readiness events. Sign in, stand there for twenty minutes, then go home.”

“Adrian, I really can’t—”

“Stop using the hospital as an excuse,” he cut in. “You have embarrassed me enough over money. Do not make me answer questions about you tonight.”

The call ended.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before changing into a loose coat and taking a cab to the reception.

The event was held in a low building near the parade ground. Officers and spouses stood in small circles beneath bright lights. I had been to events like this before.

Back then, Adrian always held my hand and introduced me to everyone around him.

“This is Nora. My wife.”

He used to say it with a smile, as if he wanted the whole world to know I was his choice.

After we married, my purpose at these events changed.

Sign in.

Then leave.

Madeline stood behind the check-in table with a volunteer badge pinned to her gown, handing out name tags. When she saw me come in, she turned to Adrian with a smile.

“See?” she said. “She made it here just fine. I told you not to rush and send the deposit.”

Adrian came over and held the pen out to me.

“Sign.”

I took it.

Madeline looked at my belly, her voice gentle enough to sound like concern.

“Nora, thirty-eight hundred dollars doesn’t really sound like an admission deposit. It sounds more like a number you made up. Next time you use the baby to ask for money, at least check with the hospital first so you don’t get caught.”

Someone nearby laughed.

“The baby isn’t even born yet, and she’s already turned him into a payment plan.”

Another woman added, “Girls with no family money learn paperwork fast.”

My palm was slick with cold sweat around the pen.

“I would never use my child for money.”

Adrian’s expression darkened.

“Then stop putting him on every bill.”

So many people were standing there, and he did not hesitate.

Madeline lowered her voice. “Nora, stop lying. What will the child learn from you if this is how you behave?”

The words went in like a needle.

“Finish signing and leave. I don’t want the whole base knowing my wife curses her own child just to get money from me.”

Whatever explanation I still had left went cold.

I signed the last line, put down the pen, and turned away before he could dismiss me.

The wind outside was sharp.

I had only made it halfway across the walkway when the pain slammed down again, as if something inside me had torn open. I caught the railing, and the next second warmth spread between my legs.

Dark red soaked through my clothes.

My hands started shaking.

I had taken the medication.

Why was this still happening?

I texted Adrian first.

I’m bleeding. I need the ER.

Then I called him.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Nora, I am warning you. Stop using the baby to lie to me.”

“I’m really bleeding. I can’t stay on my feet.”

“Your due date is in the middle of next month,” he said coldly. “When the time comes, I will cover every delivery expense, including a VIP room. Until then, stop acting like a gold digger and making up reasons to ask for money.”

“I’m not asking for money. I really—”

I fell to the ground. The phone slipped from my hand, and I reached for it with the last strength I had.

In the distance, someone shouted, “Oh my God, what happened to her?”

Another voice came closer. “She’s pregnant! She’s bleeding. Call an ambulance!”

On the other end of the line, Adrian’s voice finally changed.

“Nora? Where are you?”

Then Madeline’s voice cut in.

“Adrian, don’t let her fool you again. My friend at the hospital just sent me her checkup report. The fetal heartbeat was stable. She isn’t as serious as she wants you to think. At this point, I wouldn’t put it past her to have someone help her stage this just to make you leave me in public.”

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

When Adrian spoke again, his voice was colder than before.

“Nora, you are beyond saving.”

The call ended.

A few seconds later, my screen lit up.

Adrian Hayes sent you: $100

The note read: Emergency fee.