---- Chapter 6 Eliza POV: | woke on the floor, the morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Every muscle ached. | used the wall to pull myself up, my reflection in the hallway mirror a ghostly stranger. My face was pale and drawn, with dark circles under my eyes. | unconsciously pressed a hand to my lower abdomen, where a dull, persistent ache lingered. The baby. Cash' s baby. The thought no longer brought a spark of hope. It was a brand A permanent mark of my foolishness. Mechanically, | went through the motions of getting ready. | showered, the hot water doing little to warm the chill that had settled deep in my bones. | applied makeup with a practiced hand, concealing the evidence of my sleepless, tear-filled night. | ignored the twinges of pain in my stomach, pushing them down, refusing to acknowledge them. | had a class to teach. Walking onto the prep school campus was like stepping into another world, one where things still made sense. The manicured lawns, the ivy-covered brick buildings, the chatter of students-it was real. It was a lifeline. ---- The irony was not lost on me. | had taken this job for Cash, a compromise | had made for our future. Now, it was the only thing holding me together. | was halfway through a lecture on The Great Gatsby when | felt it. A sudden, warm gush between my legs. | faltered, my hand flying to my stomach as a sharp, debilitating pain seized me. | looked down. A dark red stain was spreading rapidly across the front of my light-colored skirt. The students gasped. A girl in the front row screamed. The classroom door opened. It was the headmaster, making his morning rounds. His eyes widened in horror when he saw me. "Someone call 9-1-1!" he shouted, rushing to my side as my legs gave out. He pulled out his phone, his fingers fumbling. "Mr. Robinson," he said into the receiver. "It's Eliza. There' s been an accident. You need to get here. Now." The world dissolved into a blur of panicked faces and frantic voices. The next thing | knew, Cash was there, his face a mask of terror. He scooped me into his arms, ignoring the blood, and ran. He didn't limp. He ran, carrying me as if | weighed nothing, his movements fluid and strong. He laid me in the backseat of his car and drove like a madman, ---- weaving through traffic, the horn blaring. The emergency room was a whirlwind of noise and chaos. A doctor appeared, his face grim. "Ectopic pregnancy," he said, the words sharp and clinical. "It ' s ruptured. She' s hemorrhaging internally. We need to get her into surgery right now." He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "We have to perform a salpingectomy. We can' t save the fallopian tube." A hole. He was telling me they were going to carve a hole inside of me, removing a part of what made me a woman, removing the last, tragic evidence of a love that had never really existed. The baby was gone. It had felt my rejection, my disgust, and it had decided to leave. A single, silent tear traced a path through the grime and sweat on my cheek. All those years. All my love, my loyalty, my heart. Wasted. All for nothing When | woke up, the first thing | saw was Cash, asleep in the chair by my bed, his head in his hands. He looked exhausted, his handsome face etched with worry. When he sensed me stirring, his head snapped up. Relief washed over his features, followed by a wave of pain. "'Liza' he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Tears ---- welled in his eyes as he reached for my hand. "The baby... |' m so sorry." | looked at his tears, at his performance of grief, and felt nothing but a cold, empty void. | pulled my hand away. My eyes were ice. | stared at him, at this stranger who had shattered my world, and he shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, the first flicker of true fear | had ever seen in his eyes. | was so tired. | didn't have the strength to fight, to scream, to demand the answers | already knew. | turned my head, facing the wall. "Get out," | whispered. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor. He didn' t leave. | could feel his presence, a suffocating weight in the small room. He was waiting. For what? Forgiveness? Absolution? | was about to tell him to leave again when | saw them through the crack in the door. Catherine had arrived. Cash met her in the hallway, pulling her to the far end, his voice a low, urgent murmur. | needed water. My throat was bone dry. | pushed myself up, my stitches screaming in protest, and shuffled toward the door. As | reached for the handle, | saw it. ---- Cash was stroking Catherine's cheek, his expression impossibly tender. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her belly. His hand rested there, a gesture of such profound love and protection that it knocked the air from my lungs My baby was gone. My body was broken. And he was out there, cherishing his other child. His real child. The plastic cup of water slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. My legs gave out, and | slid down the wall, the tearing sensation in my abdomen nothing compared to the agony ripping through my soul. His love was so cheap. So easy. And | didn' t want it anymore.