I Lost Our Child Chapter 01
The day of the fight, Thatcher asked for a divorce.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.”
He paused.
After that, I stopped confiding in him. I stopped reaching out.
At a party once, someone mistook him and Ava for a couple. I wasn’t upset.
I even smiled and said they made a handsome couple.
He looked at me, and his own smile slowly vanished. The color drained from his face.
…
We barely spoke for a month. Then we ran into each other at the hospital.
When the elevator doors slid open, our eyes met.
The air went still.
I was the first to look away. I didn’t say hello.
Thatcher caught my hand, his head tilted down to look at me.
“Are you sick?”
I shook my head.
Just then, a soft voice called his name.
“Thatcher.”
My gaze followed the sound to Ava.
She had Thatcher’s coat draped over her shoulders.
I pulled my hand free.
Ava walked over and stopped at his side.
I smiled.
“I have an appointment,” I said. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the close button.
That was two weeks after my miscarriage. I was there for a follow-up.
Two weeks earlier, I’d fallen during a field interview.
A piece of heavy equipment had toppled onto me.
There was so much blood. My mind went blank.
It wasn’t until I was at the hospital that I found out I was eight weeks pregnant.
The baby didn’t make it.
The doctors and nurses tried to comfort me.
“You’re still young. You’ll have another chance.”
But I had only just learned this child existed, and then he was gone.
Before they took me into surgery, I called Thatcher again and again.
He never answered.
After the surgery, I saw the news. He was in Los Angeles for Ava’s stage premiere.
I hung up and didn’t try again.
The night after the surgery, the pain from the incision was so sharp it left me in a cold sweat. I lay there for hours, unable to sleep.
A nurse gave me a shot for the pain, and it finally eased a little.
Sleep still wouldn’t come, so I picked up my phone.
I stumbled upon Ava’s Instagram.
[LA crew! Thank you to my friends for flying out just to see my performance.]
In the photo were Thatcher, Ava, Aidan, and Leo.
The four of them had grown up together. They were inseparable.
I never told Thatcher a thing about it, not even after I was discharged.
After the follow-up, I left the hospital.
Thatcher called. His voice was a low hum in my ear.
“Are you still at the hospital? I’ll come get you.”
In the background, I heard another voice. Ava’s.
She was calling to him from somewhere nearby.
“Thatcher, we’re finished here. We’re all waiting for you to join us for dinner.”
“No need,” I said, and hung up immediately.
Back at the office, I worked late.
It was past nine by the time I finished.
I rarely used to stay late.
But since the fight, the space between us had grown cold and wide. I started coming home later and later.
When I left the office, I was about to call a car.
A horn sounded nearby.
I looked up and saw Thatcher.
I hadn’t expected him to come for me.
It had just rained, and the ground was slick.
Getting out of the car, I nearly slipped on the wet pavement. Thatcher reached for me, but I grabbed the car door to steady myself, avoiding his hand.
His arm hung in the air for a moment.
Two seconds later, he lowered it.
“Be careful.”
I nodded.
Since things had soured, Thatcher and I barely spoke.
I used to tell him everything about my day, the way you do.
Now, I said less. The silence between us grew.
He offered nothing of his own.