A broken heart cannot be mended
Chapter 1
I woke up with a wave of nausea, dry heaving but nothing came up.
My husband, David, banged impatiently on the bathroom door.
“What’s wrong with you now? Stop faking it! Get out here and make dinner!”
I stared at my reflection.
Pale face, chapped lips, sunken eyes.
The icy well water, the suffocating despair…I’d never forget it.
In my past life, David constantly supported his widowed first love, Amy, who lived next door.
He felt sorry for her, always putting her needs before mine.
We fought often, but I always thought he was just being kind.
Until my son starved to death while David was at Amy’s, changing her baby’s diapers.
That’s when I finally gave up, jumped into the well.
Now, I was back, right when I first found out I was pregnant.
This time, I was done with David. I was getting an abortion and filing for divorce.
I opened the door. He was holding the bag of rice I’d scrimped and saved to buy, ready to leave.
I instinctively stopped him. “Are you crazy? That’s our food for the next two weeks!”
He frowned, impatiently shoving my hand away.
“Amy’s pregnant, she needs to eat well. We can buy more later.”
“Buy more? With what money?!” I snapped.
His paycheck was a hundred bucks. Eighty went straight to Amy.
He’d spent another twelve on a hair tie for her.
We had eight dollars left to last us half a month.
This rice was bought with borrowed money.
He seemed to remember this, his face flushing with embarrassment, but he was still determined.
“I’ll figure it out. This rice is for Amy.”
“Oh, and she’s pregnant, can’t do housework. Make sure you go over there every day to cook and do laundry for her.”
“Take good care of her, don’t be stingy. She’s like my little sister.”
Sister?
I laughed, the resentment of two lifetimes bubbling up.
“You’re so capable, David, why don’t you hire her a maid?”
“I’m your wife, not your servant!”
He gave me a disappointed look. “Lisa, why are you always against Amy?”
He pushed past me and went next door.
I stood in the doorway, Mrs. Nelson, our nosy neighbor, peering at me with a gossipy grin.
“Your man’s off to that pretty widow’s again, huh? Tsk tsk, alone together like that…”
The thin walls of our apartment building offered zero privacy. Everything we said was easily overheard.
Amy, standing at her door, hands on her pregnant belly, smiled sweetly.
“Oh, Lisa, David just feels sorry for me being a widow, that’s why he asks you for help.”
“Don’t be mad. I’ll talk to him.”
She spoke like she was David’s wife.
David looked at her tenderly.
“Amy, are you hungry? I’ll make you dinner soon.”
David never cooked a single meal at home.
Even when I was burning up with a fever, he’d drag me out of bed.
Grumbling about how cooking was a woman’s job, men shouldn’t be in the kitchen.
Turns out, he could cook. Just not for me.
I scoffed, ignoring them both.
I slammed the door shut.
This time, I wouldn’t be a fool.
If David loved Amy so much, I’d let them be together.
Divorce! I had to get a divorce!
I couldn’t live like this anymore.
I touched my still-flat stomach, a pang of sadness hitting me.
I’m sorry, baby. I can’t bring you into this world to suffer.
My stomach growled, cramping with hunger.
I wanted some hot water, but my thermos, a wedding gift, was gone.
I searched everywhere. It was probably at Amy’s.
I checked my pockets. Two dollars and fifty cents. I sighed and went out.
I walked to the diner, my legs weak, and bought two big meat buns.
I took a huge bite, the savory juices filling my mouth, but it tasted bitter.
I, Lisa Miller, wasn’t rich growing up, but we had meat a few times a week.
How did my life with David become worse than living through a famine?
The buns filled my stomach, giving me some strength.
I touched my belly again, the pain sharper now.
Find a better family next time, baby. Don’t have a father like David.
The doctor hesitated when I said I wanted an abortion.
“Are you sure? Does your husband agree?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t know. And it doesn’t matter.”
The doctor’s expression softened with pity.
“Well… have you thought this through? This is a life after all.”
I nodded numbly.
Thought it through? What else was there to think about?
In my past life, did he ever care about this child?
Seven months pregnant, I was still starving.
My belly was small, like a deflated balloon, while Amy glowed with health.
My mom came to visit from out of state, and cried when she saw how thin and pale I was.
“Lisa, I shouldn’t have let you marry so far away! You’re living worse than a stray dog!”
She was right. Worse than a dog.
Pregnant dogs get extra food. What did I get?
David gave my food to his “dear sister” Amy.
He even took the can of formula I’d risked everything to buy, when I was weak after giving birth and my son was crying from hunger.
The image of my son’s tiny, lifeless body flashed in my mind.
“Be here tomorrow at 8 am, on an empty stomach.”
The doctor handed me a form. I took it gratefully.
Back in our cramped apartment, the smell of cooking filled the hallway.
Except for my place. Cold stove, empty, lifeless.
Next door, laughter and David’s attentive voice drifted through the wall.
Like needles, stabbing at my heart.
I started packing. Some clothes, a few cherished books.
A few dollars Mom had slipped me. That was all I had.
I stuffed everything into an old canvas bag.
I picked up a faded photo from the nightstand.
David and I, in new clothes, smiling happily. Our wedding photo.
Back then, I truly wanted a happy life with him.
I stared at the photo, then tore it to pieces, tossing it in the trash.
The old Lisa was dead, along with her son, at the bottom of that cold well.
I’d just finished packing when David came home.
His smile faded when he saw me. “Did you eat?” he asked, his voice indifferent.
I didn’t even look at him. I went back into the bedroom.
No rice left, and he asked if I ate?
He followed me in, holding a pink hair tie, offering it like a precious gift.
“You said you liked Amy’s hair tie? I bought you one. Don’t be mad anymore.”
I glanced at the hair tie. A dirty smudge stained one corner. Disgusting.
He didn’t buy it for me. It was Amy’s hand-me-down!
I used to be so stupid, blind to his lies.
Now, it was all sickeningly obvious.
I stayed silent. He took it as a sign I wasn’t angry anymore.
Before, I would’ve demanded to know why he was so good to Amy.
“You were rude to Amy earlier. She’s generous, she’s not angry.”
He paused. “Later, go wash her underwear. Her pregnancy isn’t stable, there’s some blood.”
Of course, his “kindness” always had a price.
How disgusting! He actually asked me to wash Amy’s bloody underwear.
“No,” I said coldly.
He froze, surprised by my refusal.
I always obeyed, no matter how reluctant.
“Lisa Miller, what do you mean?” His voice hardened.
“Exactly what I said.”
“David, let’s get a divorce.”
David stared at me, dumbfounded. “Are you crazy? Throwing away a good life over something so small?”
I scoffed. “David, in your eyes, what kind of life am I living?”
“You give my money to your lover,”
“You let me starve and freeze, and you call this a good life?”
“I… I just feel sorry for Amy. It’s hard for a pregnant woman alone…”
“Hard? Is it easy for me?”
“I’ve been married to you for two years, I’ve never had a full meal.”
He avoided my gaze, refusing to admit his faults.
I didn’t want to waste any more breath. “Let’s divorce. Go be with Amy if you love her so much.”
He gritted his teeth. “Lisa, don’t regret this!”
I laughed coldly. “My biggest regret is marrying you!”
David’s face turned livid. He raised his hand and slapped me hard.
My head slammed against the dresser.
Pain exploded in my skull. I could smell blood.
“Ah!”
Amy, her hand over her mouth, stood at the door, feigning shock.
David didn’t rush to help me.
He ran to Amy, covering her eyes.
“Don’t be scared, you’re pregnant, you can’t see this.”
He turned to me, his voice impatient. “Get up and clean the blood. I’ll take you to the hospital. Don’t scare Amy.”
I gripped the dresser, trying to stand, wanting to scream at him.
The room spun, and everything went black.
I woke up to a doctor’s stern voice.
“The pregnant woman is so weak, and you don’t even give her proper nutrition! Letting her lose so much blood!”
“If something happens to her, you’ll regret it!”
David: “Yes, yes, doctor. I’ll definitely take good care of her.”
I opened my eyes, seeing the doctor scolding David.
Seeing me awake, David’s expression turned gentle.
He took my hand, his voice full of concern.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? I wouldn’t have…”
I yanked my hand away, turning my face.
After the doctor left, David diligently peeled an apple for me.
“If I knew you were pregnant, I wouldn’t have pushed you! You scared Amy so much, she almost miscarried.”
I looked at him coldly. “So you’re blaming me for scaring your Amy?”
He was speechless, then forced a laugh. “Lisa, how can you say that?”
“You’re my wife, of course I want to treat you well.”
I closed my eyes, pretending not to hear.
When the door opened, I knew he was gone.
My head still spinning, I sat up, determined to find the doctor and get the abortion.
Passing a room, I saw David through the half-open door.
He was spooning brown sugar water into Amy’s mouth.
“David, I was just startled, I’m fine.”
“Keep this for Lisa. She needs it more.”
“She’s fine, she doesn’t need it.”
David’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if he wasn’t the one who just promised the doctor to give me proper nutrition.
This wasn’t new. I was numb to it.
I used to be heartbroken by his favoritism, hysterical over his closeness with Amy.
Now, I just felt sick.
I turned and left, heading for the doctor’s office, but was told he was in surgery.
Disappointed, I returned to my room.
The empty room, a bowl of cold oatmeal on the nightstand.
David, gone again.
Whatever.
I picked up the spoon, eating the cold oatmeal.
The coldness slid down my throat, chilling me to the bone.
The door burst open.
Amy, wearing the pink dress I’d seen in David’s bag, the one I thought was my birthday present.
The one David had said I looked ugly in.
She gasped dramatically, the triumph in her eyes impossible to miss.
“Oh, is this all you’re eating? So pathetic.”
I ignored her, continuing to eat.
“David’s making chicken soup for me. Want some later?”
“No, thank you,” I said flatly. “I don’t like chicken soup, especially leftovers.”
Amy’s smile faltered.
She sneered at my plain oatmeal. “I don’t like you keeping my man to yourself, either.”
Before I could react, a sharp pain ripped through my lower abdomen.
Warm liquid flowed down my legs. I looked down, bright red blood staining my gown.
Amy leaned in, her voice icy. “I put safflower in your oatmeal.”
“David’s love is enough for my baby and me.”
“And even if you tell him, he won’t believe you.”
I shoved her away, screaming, “Doctor! Doctor!”
The pain intensified, the blood flowing faster.
Soaking the sheets, dripping onto the floor, blooming into horrifying red flowers.
Nurses rushed in, one of them gasping.
“Oh my god, she’s hemorrhaging! This isn’t a normal miscarriage!”
My vision blurred.
As they wheeled me into the operating room, I heard David’s panicked voice.
“What’s wrong with my wife?! Save our baby, doctor!”
