---- Chapter 8 "Now that I don't love you anymore, you're suddenly clinging to me. Aren't you pathetic, Randall?" No matter how much I lashed out, Randall didn't resist. He only looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Since I'd been discharged from the hospital, he'd been watching me with that same unreadable gaze. There was sorrow in his eyes, but also something deeper, something I couldn't or didn't want to understand. It was the same way he used to look at me when I fought tooth and nail against Macy's intrusion into our lives. He would say, "Nara, there's nothing between me and Macy." However, his actions told a different story, allowing her to cross lines. Every time, it felt like a ---- knife twisting in my chest. My hands came down on his face, again and again. "Stop looking at me like that, Randall. If you don't, don't blame me if I gouge your eyes out in your sleep." Finally, Randall got the hint and moved out. He didn't stay gone. Every day, he was there. Sometimes with a bouquet of fresh flowers, standing quietly outside the building. Other times, he'd bring meals he'd painstakingly prepared himself. On the rare occasion that I was in a good mood, I'd smile at him sweetly and tell him I was craving tacos from that trendy place across town. Then he'd wait in line for hours to get it for me. When he returned, triumphant, I'd wrinkle my nose in disgust and toss it into the trash without a ---- second glance. After all, I was the crazy one. Shouldn't I act like it? Randall never got angry. Instead, he'd smile at me gently, almost indulgently. 'Does this make you happy, Nara?" Happy? No. Not even close. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself on that cold, sterile operating table, losing the baby I had dreamed of while Randall was at someone else's bedside. I smiled. "No, Randall. Nothing you do can make up for even a fraction of what my baby would've given me." The warmth in his eyes finally dimmed. His calm veneer cracked. "You finally said it. You finally said something about the baby!"