A quaint little cottage sits on the edge of town, nestled in quiet charm. Ancient trees stretch their mighty canopies overhead, casting dappled shade over a lush green garden. A wrought-iron table and a few chairs shimmer with the interplay of light and shadow, framed by thick branches heavy with vibrant leaves.
Travis lounges comfortably in one of the wide chairs, lazily flipping through the morning paper, pausing now and then to linger on a headline that catches his eye. Here in the garden, everything feels peaceful and warm; a gentle summer breeze brushes against the skin, offering a welcome coolness.
I watch him from a distance, a smile tugging at my lips as I notice the determination with which he tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. A sunbeam dances across his rugged face, making him squint in the most endearing way. My man. On the ring finger of his left hand, a thin band of white metal gleams with quiet dignity.
Instinctively, I glance down at my own hands, as if afraid I won’t see a matching band on my ring finger. My gaze softens as I gently caress my pregnant belly, wrapping my arms around it in a tender embrace.
The tiny life beneath my heart responds to my touch with insistent little kicks. The corners of my mouth lift into a contented smile.
The vibrant green grass, neatly trimmed into a pristine lawn, tickles my bare feet. I step lightly over the soft turf, drawing closer and closer to Travis. Noticing me, his face breaks into a joyful grin, and he sets the newspaper aside.
— I told you not to walk barefoot!
— The ground’s warm enough, don’t worry, — I reply with a smile, leaning in for a well-earned kiss.
Another kick nudges my belly, and I press a hand to the spot where I felt the movement.
— Ouch! — An involuntary gasp escapes my lips, instantly wiping the smile from Travis’s face as concern takes over.
— Kicking again? — the soon-to-be father asks, his thick brows knitting together.
I nod silently, smiling as if the baby’s movements don’t bother me in the slightest. Let him kick; after all, this is our child, Travis’s and mine, the embodiment of our love.
With a gentle, almost hesitant touch, Travis reaches out to cradle my belly from the sides. Even during my first pregnancy, he was afraid to touch it, as if his strong, calloused hands might somehow cause harm.
— Hey now, don’t kick your mom, Andy, — he murmurs softly to my belly, his voice brimming with affection. Then, with the same tenderness, he nuzzles his nose against it.
Just a few weeks ago, we went for a routine checkup and screening, where we learned we’re expecting a boy. Travis was over the moon and immediately suggested a name. Our little son will undoubtedly be called Andrew. He’ll be just as handsome as his father.
Barely holding back tears of happiness, I kiss the top of Travis’s head, burying my nose in his sandy blond hair.
— Mom! Dad!
From the far end of the garden, our first little treasure comes running toward us at full speed. Her tiny blue dress, along with her plump little mouth, is stained with blackberry juice from the bushes by the fence. I just hope she hasn’t pricked her delicate fingers on the sharp thorns hidden among the juicy green leaves.
— Nancy, I told you not to go near the blackberries without me, — Travis says with mock sternness, the kind only a loving father can muster, as he stands to meet our stubborn five-year-old daughter.
Spreading his arms wide, the sandy-haired man catches the little mischief-maker and sweeps her into a tight hug. Nancy giggles brightly and wraps her juice-stained hands around her father’s neck.
Moved by the sight, I muster an agility uncommon for someone so far along in pregnancy and pull my two favorite people into a warm embrace, uniting our young family in one loving circle.
Soon, we’ll be a family of four.
The gentle summer sun plays hide-and-seek among the sprawling branches laden with bright green leaves. A sense of calm and serenity fills the air.
* * *
Clutching a tear-soaked pillow, I wake at dawn in my empty apartment. The refrigerator hums quietly in the kitchen, and the stillness of the city night is occasionally pierced by the roar of a motorcycle or a car speeding past.
It was a dream. Just another cruel dream that tears my soul apart. I despise dreams; it’s been years since I’ve had a single good one.
— Go to hell, Lester! — My voice cracks as I shatter the ringing silence of my empty home with a harsh curse.
I’m not afraid of waking anyone up because I live alone. A lonely twenty-four-year-old woman. I’m so disgusted with myself. With a sharp flick of my right hand, the damp pillow is sent on a short flight, hitting the wall with a dull thud before falling to the bedroom floor.
The first rays of sunlight creep over the city, illuminating the dreary facades of apartment complexes. Nervously puffing on another cigarette, I replay the same haunting dream in my mind, the one that’s tormented me for five long years. Truth be told, these nightmares have become more frequent in the last year. Now, nearly every morning begins with a breakdown and a couple of smokes.
Today marks exactly five years since our last meeting. Back then, at the old tire factory, I had no idea I was about to lose something far more precious than the love of my life.
Driven by a thirst for revenge, Max deliberately used me as a pawn in his vicious game. He disregarded my feelings, fueled by blind retribution. I was nothing more than a tool to settle an old score. An eye for an eye, as they say. And the scoundrel didn’t hesitate to profit from my pain. Back then, naive as I was, I didn’t see what was happening behind my back. The amount of money he made from the bets was staggering—quite the spectacle, of course.
He spat the truth in my face, reveling in his cunning. He rambled on about some guy named Derek, someone he claimed to be avenging. A guy Travis had supposedly taken from him. And how he’d cowardly fled, not forgetting to pocket a few hundred thousand dollars made off the spoiled rich kids. But none of that matters anymore.
Later, I learned that the murder story Max fed me was a lie, though not entirely. His guy Derek, with whom he’d been in a secret relationship, had indeed fought Travis. But the crucial detail Max omitted was that the young man had a brain aneurysm—a ticking time bomb. He could have lived his whole life unaware of it, as he had until then.
But a random head injury caused the aneurysm to rupture, triggering a massive hemorrhage. Travis didn’t kill anyone. On the contrary, as Lilith, Travis’s mother, later told me, he blamed himself for a long time and nearly quit the sport. He had no idea Max and Derek were in love, so he suspected nothing sinister and continued his friendship with the grieving man.
Because Max saw his suffering too! And indeed, without regaining consciousness, the young man passed away in the hospital a month later in a coma—only because his parents insisted on turning off life support.
There was an investigation, but no one was convicted due to the absence of a crime. Derek’s parents didn’t press charges.
It was humiliating to think I’d let some fanatic deceive me, use me, and discard me like trash. Because of a coward, I lost the most important thing in my life.
That same evening, overwhelmed by stress, I was bleeding, powerless to change anything. A tall doctor with weary, sorrowful eyes delivered the verdict. I’d had a miscarriage. My only child, whose existence I hadn’t even known about, was gone. If I’d known, I would never have let things unfold as they did.
The test had lied.
That same doctor, once I’d come to, informed me in a matter-of-fact tone that I’d likely never be able to have children again. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. Not only had everything I had then vanished, but my future was now overshadowed by the threat of a lifetime of loneliness. Who would want a barren, empty shell?
And just like that, everything changed. Once and for all.
Since then, I’ve lived on autopilot, going through each day as if watching from the sidelines.
I never saw Travis again, and all I know is that the day after the fight that never happened, he transferred to a university on the other side of the country. He cut ties with everyone he knew. His family ended their partnership with my father without explanation, his sister Rebecca blocked me everywhere, as did he. I wasn’t even given a chance to explain. Only Lilith, taking pity on me, arranged a secret meeting where she shared this harrowing story. Perhaps it’s this sense of unfinished business that torments me day after day, keeping me awake night after night.
But I’ve managed. I’ve coped with the loss of the child who haunts my dreams at dawn, and with the loss of purpose in life, which I’ve since rediscovered through complete immersion in my work as a veterinarian.
I need to brew a stronger cup of coffee and light another cigarette before heading to work.
I need to escape this emptiness as quickly as I can.