Updated Feb 23, 2026 • ~5 min read
POV: Rory
Three days in the hospital.
Three days of doctors checking on me.
Three days of grief counselors offering pamphlets about “coping with loss.”
Three days of lying in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about the baby I lost.
The baby Dominic and I made.
The baby that might have saved us.
Or destroyed us completely.
Priya stays with me most of the time.
Brings me food I don’t eat.
Holds my hand when I cry.
Doesn’t say “it’ll be okay” because she knows it won’t.
“Have you talked to him?” she asks on day two.
“No.”
“He’s been calling me. Asking how you are.”
“Tell him I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“Then tell him I don’t want to talk.”
She does.
But Dominic shows up anyway.
He comes during visiting hours on day three.
Looks even more wrecked than before.
Like he hasn’t slept. Or eaten. Or done anything but sit and suffer.
“You can’t keep coming here,” I say.
“I needed to see you.”
“You’ve seen me. I’m alive. You can go now.”
“Rory—”
“What do you want, Dominic? What are you here for?”
He sits. Heavily.
“To apologize. For the baby. For everything.”
“You can’t apologize a miscarriage away.”
“I know.”
“And you can’t fix this with sorry.”
“I know that too.”
We sit in silence.
“The doctor said it was stress,” I finally say. “Emotional trauma. My body couldn’t handle… all of it.”
“I did this.”
“We both did. You. Me. Celeste. This whole impossible situation.”
“I should have chosen sooner—”
“You shouldn’t have had to choose at all. But you did. And you didn’t. And now our baby is gone.”
He’s crying.
I’ve never seen Dominic cry.
Even when he told me about Celeste’s accident. About the grief. The therapy.
He held it together.
But now, sitting next to my hospital bed, mourning a baby he barely knew existed, he breaks.
“I’m so sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry I put you through this. I’m sorry I kissed her. I’m sorry I made you fight for me when I should have been fighting for you. I’m sorry about the baby. I’m sorry for all of it.”
I want to comfort him.
Want to reach out and hold him.
But I can’t.
Because my grief is too big.
And his guilt doesn’t make space for it.
“You need to go,” I whisper.
“Rory—”
“Please. I can’t—I can’t do this right now. I need to grieve. Alone.”
“I want to grieve with you—”
“You lost the right to that when you chose to kiss her.”
The words are cruel.
True, but cruel.
He stands.
Wipes his eyes.
“I’ll give you space. As much as you need. But I’m not giving up on us.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I can’t. I love you.”
“You loved her too. Love isn’t enough, Dom. It never was.”
After he leaves, the doctor comes in.
Dr. Patel. The one who delivered the miscarriage news.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Empty.”
“Physically or emotionally?”
“Both.”
She checks my chart. My vitals. Asks routine questions.
Then: “The miscarriage was complete. You’re healing well physically. But I want you to see a therapist. Pregnancy loss is traumatic. Especially under these circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“The stress. The… situation with your husband.”
Oh. She knows.
Of course she knows.
Dominic probably told her everything when he was demanding updates.
“I’ll think about it,” I lie.
“Please do. And Rory? This wasn’t your fault. Miscarriages happen. Often for no reason at all. Don’t blame yourself.”
Too late.
I already do.
They discharge me the next day.
Priya drives me to her apartment.
Not home.
Because I don’t have a home anymore.
The house I shared with Dominic is his. And Celeste’s.
I’m just the ghost of a marriage that never should have been.
“You can stay as long as you need,” Priya says as we pull up.
“Thank you.”
“And Rory? I know you don’t want to hear this, but… Dominic’s been calling me every day. Multiple times. He’s destroyed.”
“Good.”
“Is it? Because he made mistakes, sure. But he’s trying to fix them now.”
“By doing what? Feeling guilty? That doesn’t fix anything.”
“No. But loving you does. And he loves you. Anyone can see that.”
“He loves Celeste too.”
“Maybe. But there’s a difference between loving someone and being IN LOVE with them. And I think he’s figured out which one is which.”
I don’t respond.
Can’t.
Because I don’t know if I believe her.
Or if I even want to.
That night, I lie in Priya’s guest bed.
Staring at the ceiling.
Thinking about the baby.
About Dominic.
About Celeste.
About the mess we’ve all made.
My phone buzzes.
Dominic: “I know you don’t want to talk. But I need you to know something. Celeste moved out. Officially. She’s staying with Nina. And she’s filing for divorce. It’s over between us. It’s been over. I just needed to accept it. And I have. I choose you. I’ll always choose you. When you’re ready to hear that, I’ll be here.”
I read the message three times.
Celeste moved out.
Filing for divorce.
It’s over.
Which means…
Which means if I want Dominic, he’s mine.
Legally. Officially. No more competition.
But do I want him?
After everything?
After the kiss, the indecision, the weeks of torture, the miscarriage?
Can I trust him again?
Do I even want to try?
I don’t know.
So I turn off my phone.
Close my eyes.
And try to sleep.
But all I dream about is a baby that never was.
And a love that might be too broken to save.
END OF CHAPTER 21
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