The surgery was long and unbearably cold.
When I finally woke, Tatum was nowhere in sight. I knew, of course, he must have been with Zara.
I called softly for the doctor.
“Doctor, please… also, help me with the abortion while you’re at it. So I won’t… have to come again later.”
Afterward, I lay on the hospital bed, drained, unwilling to move.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated; it was his mother, Violeta Bernard, calling.
“Adeline! What’s wrong with you? You couldn’t even keep the child! Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this?”
Her words were sharp with blame, without even pausing to ask why. I opened my mouth, but no words came.
At that moment, Tatum snatched the phone from my hand, his tone suddenly soft.
“Mom, don’t get worked up. Adeline just had surgery; her body is still weak. She needs rest. Don’t scare her.”
As he spoke, he strolled toward the balcony outside the ward, casually pulling the glass door shut behind him.
Through the faint barrier, fragments of words drifted in.
“…it wasn’t on purpose… maybe she was just too tired from the wedding preparations, didn’t rest enough… her body has always been weak… don’t blame her…”