2

“Oh my God, Ollie,” Emily said, feigning concern. “Are you okay?” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “Do you need to go to the hospital? Dante, do something, please.” So pretentious. She didn't care one bit about me.

“Let go of me, you shameless whore!” I said, pushing her away roughly.

She yelped, and Dante cried, “Emily, are you hurt?” his voice oozing concern.

“I'm sorry you think it's my fault, Ollie,” Emily said. “You’re my friend's wife, and I really care about y—”

“Don't talk to her,” Dante said. “You don't have to be nice to her.”

My heart broke into a million pieces.

“Your arm is hurt,” Dante said to Emily, his voice sticky sweet. “Come. Let's go to my room. I’ll apply ointment for you.”

“Dante... have you forgotten why I’m blind? You’re so ashamed of me, but need I remind you it was all your fault?”

“Of course, not—”

“If you haven't forgotten, then how can you throw me out like this? How can you be this heartless?”

He scoffed. “You made your choice, Olivia. Don't blame me for your misfortune. You brought everything upon yourself.”

I remembered vividly how he desperately pleaded with me that day, and I was foolish not to have seen things were going to end like this. He was right. I had my choice, and I chose this fate myself. Still, I pleaded, “Dante, please, please don't throw me out. You’re the only family I have.” If for no other reason, I had to plead with him if I wanted my unborn child to survive.

“I never considered you family, Oliva,” he said with resentment, stomping on my already broken heart.

While he might have no care for me, he had to care for his child. Didn’t he? “Please let me stay. I'm

almost due to give birth. Please.”

“Don't worry about the baby. I’ll arrange for medical care when you come due.”

“Dant—”

“Emily, let's go to my room,” he said.

I collapsed, landing on the cold floor, then listened to their footsteps as they faded. Hot tears poured down my cheeks, as resentment for my pathetic life built. Life was so unfair. If I only had a family member whom I can fall back on. But I was an only child who grew up in an orphanage after losing my parents to a fire when I was four-years-old. “Fairness” was something I could never expect.

My body trembled as stood with what little strength I had left. Still crying, I headed to my room downstairs—a room separate from Dante’s. The only times he ever allowed me into his room were when Grandma came around. Of course, that was when we had something together, and I got pregnant.

“Ma'am,” Rose said, gently gripping my arm. “It's this way.” She helped me up and said, “You almost collided into the wall,” with sympathy resounding in her voice.

“Thank you.” I sniffled.

“Do you need me to get you anything, ma'am? A glass of chilled water, milk, or—”

“Don't worry. I'm fine,” I lied, then pushed the door open and walked inside carefully.

“Let me know when you’re ready, so I can come pack your things, ma'am.”

I nodded before closing the door. Then I leaned against it and slipped back down to the floor, thinking about everything that had happened. I supposed it really was my fault. I should never have made the decision I made years ago. But I did it for the man I loved.

The sound of the knock on the door disrupted my thoughts. “Ma'am, it's past 9 p.m., and you haven’t eaten. I made something for you.”

Fear gripped me. The time was fast approaching for me to say my goodbye to my home, the only home I’d ever known. I’d likely end up on the street. Where was I going to go?

“I'm fine,” I said through the door. “I'll call you if I need anything.”

“Ma'am, please. You need to eat for the baby's sake. You can't starve yourself.”

She made a valid point, so I reluctantly agreed. Racked with grief and despair, my body shook as I crawled toward the bed.

Minutes later, Rose came to serve me steamy noodles, then stayed with me until I finished them. She then cleared the dishes and returned almost immediately. “You should have a warm bath, ma'am. I’ll pack your things while you wash.” Rose led me into the bathroom and went back to the room to get my things together.

Alone in the bathroom, I cried my eyes out. If only I could turn back the hands of time, I would never have allowed any of this to happen.

Maybe this was my fate, a fate I chose and designed for myself. “Is this really the end for me?” I whispered.