Rain, Blood And Puppies

The day I miscarried and suffered a massive hemorrhage, my parents rushed to the hospital through a torrential downpour. They never made it. A truck T-boned their car halfway there.

As I lay on the cold operating table, my hands, stained red with my own blood, shook violently as I signed their emergency surgery consent forms.

In the end, I could not save my baby, and the doctors could not save my parents.

The one person who should have been by my side, the man whose calls I had desperately tried to reach all night, was busy posting a celebration on his social media feed.

Congratulations to Barnaby! A long night of hard work, and she is finally a mom.

With what little strength I had left, I tapped the like button.

Within seconds, my phone vibrated with a direct message from him. It was incredibly brief, containing just two words.

Delete it.

I sent him my real-time location at the hospital.

Come here. I need to talk to you face-to-face.

I have something important to take care of, so I cannot make it! If you need a prenatal checkup, ask your parents to go with you. It is not like they have anything else to do.

Your so-called important business is delivering her dogs puppies?

Why does being pregnant turn you into such a jealous shrew? You are seriously jealous of a dog now?

I did not have the energy to argue with him. Since he refused to show up, he could talk to my lawyer instead.

By the time I finished handling my parents final arrangements, it was late the following evening. I dragged my exhausted, aching body through the front door of our apartment.

The place, which I always kept meticulously clean, was an absolute disaster. Gavin was bent over the coffee table, rummaging through drawers and tossing papers onto the floor. He did it with the practiced ease of a man who assumed someone else would always clean up after him.

Hearing the door click, he did not even look up. His voice held a sharp edge of irritation.

"Where the hell have you been all weekend? I had to order takeout for lunch."

I stood frozen. He had not come home last night either.

For the past two years, this had been our life.

When the lights in Tessas apartment flickered out, he would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to fix them. Yet he forgot to lock our own front door, allowing a drunk intruder to stumble into our living room, leaving me with nightmares for an entire month.

When Tessas dog went into labor, he refused to accompany me to my checkup. He had even taken a week of paid leave to stay by her side, acting as if delivering puppies was a job for a chief surgeon rather than a veterinarian.

Receiving no response, Gavin finally turned to look at me. His annoyance quickly gave way to a flicker of surprise.

"You look incredibly pale. Is the baby acting up again?"

I took a step back, dodging his hand as he reached toward my stomach. My voice was entirely flat.

"I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why did you not answer?"

Gavins hand remained suspended in midair, his brow furrowing.

"Ann, are you seriously cross-examining me right now?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Tessa and I grew up together. Barnaby is not just a pet to her; she has had that dog since she was a kid. Tessa was absolutely beside herself with worry, and I had to help with the delivery. In a life-and-death situation like that, how was I supposed to answer your pointless calls?"

"It was just a routine checkup. Plenty of pregnant women go to those by themselves. Even if you could not handle it, your parents are always free. What difference does it make if I am not there?"

Looking at his self-righteous expression, a bitter question formed in my throat. What about my parents?

The crash had been horrific. My father had lost all signs of life before the ambulance even arrived. My mother made it to the operating room, but her injuries were incredibly severe and complex.

Gavins colleague had pulled me aside, telling me that only Gavin, with his specialized expertise and knowledge of her medical history, could give her a fighting chance.

Gavin had claimed he was too busy to pick up my calls. Yet the moment I liked his social media post, he had instantly messaged me to demand I undo it, terrified that Tessa might feel slighted.

"Is she really just a childhood friend?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Because I saw you kiss her, Gavin."

It had happened at the very restaurant where he proposed to me, in the exact same booth.

Distracted by the sheer shock of it, I had stepped off the curb without seeing the speeding motorcycle. Although the rider braked in time, the sheer impact of hitting the pavement was enough to destroy the tiny, three-month-old life inside me.

Panic, rare and sudden, flickered in Gavins dark eyes.

"Tessa was just so overwhelmed about Barnaby, so I took her out to get some fresh air. She had a few too many drinks, and..."

His tone softened, taking on a placating warmth.

"Alright, let us not dwell on this. I promise I will accompany you to your next appointment."

It was always the same routine. A flimsy excuse to brush off my pain, followed by a sweet promise to pretend nothing had ever happened.

But Gavin, you will never have to go to another appointment with me.

"Do not bother. Let us get a divorce."

Gavin stiffened, his face flushing with sudden anger.

"Ann, is this just what you journalists do? Do you always have to sensationalize everything? I told you, it was a mistake. Do you really need to make a federal case out of this?"

"Look at yourself. You are working a dead-end administrative desk job at the station. You are turning thirty, you are pregnant, and who else is going to want you if I leave?"

"I work myself to the bone at the hospital every single day for this family. I do not come home to deal with your childish tantrums!"

He grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. As he reached the entryway, his eyes caught on a piece of paper sticking out of my purse.

The words Death Certificate were printed in bold black ink.

Gavin paused, confusion crossing his face.

"Who died?"

He reached down to pull the document from my bag, but before his fingers could touch it, his phone blared. Tessas frantic, sobbing voice filled the quiet hallway.

"Gavin, one of the puppies is choking on milk! The shop is packed with customers, and I do not know what to do. Is it going to die? I am so scared..."

Gavins posture instantly tensed with anxiety.

"Do not cry, Tessa. I am on my way."

Without a backward glance, he threw open the door and rushed out, leaving the apartment quiet once more. He was in such a hurry that he forgot to lock his private study.

Driven by a strange, hollow impulse, I walked into the room. My eyes immediately caught on something shoved under the desk leg to keep it level.

Years ago, I had been the most promising rookie reporter at the network. I had been assigned to interview the notoriously stubborn, retired chief of medicine. After pulling several consecutive all-nighters to prep, my blood sugar plummeted, and I fainted in the hospital courtyard.

Gavin was the one who found me. He had helped me up and told me that the old chief would never agree to an interview.

As I hung my head in disappointment, he had slipped an orange candy into my hand, offering me a bright, boyish smile.

"But I happen to admire people who take their work seriously. So, why don't you interview me instead?"

Only later did I discover he was the youngest, most brilliant medical professor in the city. Dozens of seasoned journalists had tried to land an interview with him, yet he had broken his own rules just for me.

That was how our story began.

Later, as our careers grew more demanding, Gavin had looked at me with deep concern.

"Ann, I know becoming a chief correspondent is your dream. But my parents are getting older and need support. Could you consider stepping back? I promise I will cherish you for the rest of our lives."

I knew how much his own career meant to him. So, I compromised. I did not resign, but I transferred to a low-pressure administrative role just to keep a connection to the field I loved.

During countless sleepless nights, I would sit under the desk lamp, tracing the edges of my press credentials. Whenever Gavin caught me, his face would fill with guilt, and he would hold me close, repeating his promises of a beautiful future.

Yet now, that very press badge, the symbol of the career I had sacrificed for him, was being used as a piece of trash to prop up a wobbly desk leg.

Using Tessas birthdate, I easily bypassed the lock on his safe.

Sitting right at the top was a thick manila envelope. Inside were dozens of photographs of the two of them, embracing, kissing, walking hand-in-hand along a sunlit beach.

There were also receipts. Gavin had funded her apartment, her pet shop, and her renovations. He had poured thousands of dollars into her business every month, quietly covering her constant losses.

Written across the front of the envelope in Gavins sharp, elegant handwriting was a single sentence.

I will always fight to keep your dreams alive.

I stared at those words for a long time.

My mind flashed back over the last five years, years spent caring for his parents, cooking his meals, and scrubbing his floors. I remembered the quiet ache I felt whenever I saw my former colleagues working late, fueled by the thrill of a major story.

A dry, hollow laugh escaped my lips.

So, he did know how to support someone's dreams. He just chose to support hers, not mine.

I took photos of every document and placed them back exactly as I found them. My decision was finally clear.

I dialed a familiar number.

"Hi, Bernice. I heard the network is looking for a war correspondent to go to Central Asia, and no one has volunteered yet. If you are willing to take a chance on me, I would like to go."

There was a long pause on the other end before Bernice spoke, her voice thick with excitement.

"Ann? Truly? I was devastated when you moved to administration. This is an incredible opportunity. It is highly dangerous, of course, but the experience will completely redefine your career when you return. Pack your bags. You will be leaving in a few days."

I hung up and began to pack.

There was nothing in this apartment that belonged to me anymore, save for one thing: a soft, hand-knitted wool sweater my mother had finished just before she died.

When I was a child, she had knitted all my clothes. As she grew older and her eyesight began to fail, I had begged her to stop, not wanting her to strain herself.

But during my pregnancy, I had become highly sensitive to the cold. My mother had secretly stayed up late for weeks, her eyes bloodshot, waving off my concerns with a gentle smile.

"Handmade things are always warmer, Ann. You love the baby in your belly, and I love my own baby girl."

I had cherished it so much that I had never even worn it.

Yet as I searched the closet, the sweater was nowhere to be found.

I was about to call Gavin when my phone chimed with a notification. Tessa had just posted a new update.

The puppies were shivering after being born, and someone immediately rushed over with the perfect blanket! Thank you to the puppies' proud godfather! Of course, my own sewing skills are pretty stellar too.

Gavin had spent the day helping her celebrate the puppies survival.

In the photo, their heads were pressed close together, smiling warmly at the camera. Each of them held three tiny puppies.

And at a single glance, I recognized the fabric.

The miniature dog coats the puppies were wearing had been cut from my mother's hand-knitted sweater.

My chest tightened as I pushed open the glass door of the pet boutique. Inside, Gavin and Tessa were laughing, sharing a slice of cake with the exact same spoon.

Gavin was an extreme germaphobe. At home, his utensils had to be sterilized and kept separate, and he refused to eat family-style without serving spoons. Once, after a long day of cleaning, I had taken a sip from his water glass. He had said nothing at the time, but that evening, the glass was sitting in the trash.

He had claimed it was a habit from working in sterile hospital environments.

Clearly, those rules only applied to me.

Seeing me enter, Tessa arched an eyebrow, her smile dripping with sweet malice.

"Oh, Ann! You are here. Gavin and I have been sharing things since we were kids, so please do not mind us. See, Gavin? I told you she would never actually divorce you."

She leaned against the counter, sighing dramatically.

"After all, a woman with no career who relies entirely on her husband... if she leaves you, how is she going to support herself, let alone her parents? Running all the way here just to check up on you, she really keeps you on a short leash. I guess I am just too proud. I would rather work hard and be a self-made woman."

Gavin pinched her cheek affectionately.

"You are always the clever one, are you not?"

Then, he turned to look at me, his expression softening into the patronizing look of a parent forgiving a difficult child.

"That is enough, Ann. Since you came all this way to make amends, I will pretend I never heard that nonsense about a divorce."

"Go on home and clean up the apartment. The puppies are still very fragile, so I need to stay here and help Tessa monitor them for a few more days."

Listening to them, a wave of disgust washed over me. One of them played the mistress with absolute pride, while the other painted his emotional infidelity as some noble duty.

Ignoring Gavin, I looked directly at Tessa and let out a cold laugh.

"Since you are so exceptionally capable, Miss Tessa, why does an independent, self-made woman resort to stealing another woman's husband and her clothes? Is this 'strong woman' act just a cover for your career as a professional homewrecker?"

A couple of female customers browsing near the registers turned to look at Tessa in shock.

"Wait, you two aren't married? But sharing a spoon like that... that is a bit inappropriate, is it not?"

"Yeah, when I said you two looked like a beautiful couple earlier, you did not correct me. He actually has a wife?"

Tessas face flushed a deep, angry red.

Seeing her expression, the customers murmured in disgust, put down their items, and quickly walked out the door.

Tessas eyes welled with tears as she turned to Gavin, her voice trembling.

"Gavin, is she trying to ruin my business on purpose?"

"I only used that sweater because it was warm and soft, perfect for the newborn puppies. She already spends so much of your money; she must have a closet full of clothes! Why does she have to slander me like this? Those were some of my best clients!"

Gavin quickly wiped her tears, turning a furious glare in my direction.

"Ann, I was the one who took the sweater. Why are you attacking Tessa? It is just a cheap piece of clothing. When did you become so incredibly petty?"

"Besides, you are going to gain weight later in your pregnancy anyway, so you would not even fit into it. Just ask your mother to knit you another one. It is not some designer label; why are you acting like it is made of gold?"

Looking at his arrogant, dismissive face, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face.

"Yes, my mother made it, so it is priceless! Because she can never knit another one for me again!" I screamed, my voice cracking with raw grief. "While you were playing family with your little childhood sweetheart, choosing to deliver her dog's puppies instead of answering my desperate calls, my parents died!"

Gavins eyes went wide. His hand dropped from Tessas shoulder.

"What did you say? Your parents..."

Before he could finish, Tessa lunged forward and shoved me hard.

"How dare you hit him!" she shrieked. "It is just a stupid piece of fabric! Nobody wants your trash anyway, take it back!"

She reached down, ripped the miniature coats off the puppies, and threw the shredded wool directly into a dirty litter box near the door.

"And stop lying about your parents dying! I literally saw your mother and father at the supermarket this morning!"

"I cannot stand parasites like you who use pregnancy to play the victim, making up horrible lies just to manipulate their husbands. You are an absolute embarrassment to women!"

The litter box had not been cleaned yet. The clumps of soiled clay stuck to the delicate wool, instantly ruining my mother's final gift.

"I... I am sorry, I did not mean to..." the young shop assistant stammered, terrified by the raw fury in my eyes.

A cold, burning hatred flooded my veins. I turned back to Tessa, raising my hand to strike the woman who had destroyed the last piece of my mother I had left.

But before my hand could land, Gavin stepped in.

A sharp, deafening crack echoed through the quiet boutique.