Emma didn’t see it coming. Cold, muddy water struck her belly before she even recognized the man behind it. Shock rooted her to the spot.
It was Richard. The same man who once whispered “I love you” beside a hospital bed where their daughter died.
The same man who turned away when she begged him to hold her child just once.
Now he laughed as filthy water soaked her clothes, freezing against the life growing inside her. Disgust and mockery twisted his face.
“Look at you, Emma,” he sneered. “Shopping like some desperate woman who couldn’t keep a man.
And you actually found someone foolish enough to get you pregnant? We both know your body can’t carry a child. You’ll kill this one too—just like the last.”
Emma’s hands trembled. Mud and tears ran together, but she refused to show weakness.
Her mind flashed back: the hospital room, the divorce papers painting her as unfaithful, the doctors telling her trauma had left her infertile. He had no idea who she had become.
