Chapter 20

When the car had arrived at my house, I’d seen Brian Locke’s car blocking the road. I’d honked twice, but he’d acted as if he hadn’t heard, not moving an inch. I’d had no choice but to get out and walk over to him. Seeing the bloodshot eyes and heavy dark circles under his eyes—clear signs he hadn’t slept all night—a flicker of surprise had crossed my mind. I’d asked calmly, “Do you need something?”

His gaze had fallen directly on my abdomen—so frank that I’d immediately known what he wanted to say. Sure enough, he’d spoken hoarsely, “Yesterday… your friend said you had a miscarriage.”

My eyebrows had jumped. I’d fallen silent for a moment, then answered calmly, “Yes.”

“When? How come I… ” He’d trailed off, his tone full of disbelief.

I’d cut him off, my voice steady but clear as I spoke of those long-buried memories, “The day I smashed your phone. The day you forced yourself on me, demanding I get pregnant to ‘compensate’ Joanne Morgan for her lost child. The day I stabbed you and you ended up in the hospital.”

Watching his face turn paler by the second, his lips trembling uncontrollably, I’d continued, “I was on the highway when the car’s control panel suddenly failed. Then the accident happened—that’s when I lost the baby. I called you so many times, but you never answered.”

I’d smiled—a quick, fleeting smile, gone in the blink of an eye, “But it wouldn’t have mattered if you had. The doctor said the baby couldn’t be saved by the time I got to the hospital. Back then, I just wanted someone to lean on, someone to comfort me—even just a little.”

Brian’s eyes had grown even redder, filled with tears he was struggling to hold back. He’d whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Then move your car,” I’d turned to leave, then paused, adding, “Today’s my mom’s birthday. I’m going to the cemetery to see her. The baby’s grave is there too—you can come if you want. It was a girl.”

On the drive to the cemetery, Brian’s car had followed behind, keeping a steady distance. I’d known he must have been filled with guilt and regret, but those emotions had long since become irrelevant to me. That daughter I’d never gotten to meet was a permanent pain in my heart, an uncrossable gulf between Brian and me.

At the cemetery, the baby’s grave had been right next to my mother’s. The tombstone had been left uncarved. “I didn’t put any words on it. I was afraid my dad would see it when he comes to visit—he still doesn’t know about this,” I’d placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums on each grave, then taken a small doll out of my bag and gently set it on the baby’s grave—I brought one every time I came, as if playing make-believe with her, making up for the years I’d never gotten to spend with her.

Brian had walked over to the baby’s grave, knelt down slowly, and run his fingers gently over the cold tombstone. A tear had finally fallen from his eye, hitting the stone and leaving a small wet spot. He’d huddled over, as if all the strength had been drained from his body. I’d known what he must have been thinking—all the “what-ifs.” What if Lily Bennett hadn’t lied? What if he hadn’t been so cold to me back then? What if he’d answered the phone the day of the accident? Would everything have been different?

But there were no “what-ifs” in life. He’d let himself be deceived by lies. He’d been cold to me time and time again. When I’d needed someone to lean on the most, he’d chosen to be with someone else. He’d destroyed not just our marriage, but also that little life that should have been born into the world.

I’d looked at him and sighed softly, “Brian Locke, I loved you once—loved you so much that I’d gone against my dad’s wishes to marry you. And I hated you too—hated your unfair accusations, hated you for smashing my mom’s jade bracelet, hated you for not being there when I lost the baby. But after you donated your kidney to my dad… all that love and hate in my heart just vanished.”

Justin Cole had quietly walked over and put his arm around my shoulders, giving me a steady, warm support. I’d taken one last look at the baby’s tombstone, then turned and walked away with Justin. Some goodbyes didn’t need words—silence was the best way.

Later, I’d heard that Brian had stayed at the tombstone the entire afternoon, not leaving until it had gotten dark. When he’d gone home, Dorothy Bennett had come to him, crying and begging him to get Lily Bennett out of the police station, saying she didn’t want her daughter to have a criminal record. Brian hadn’t agreed right away; he’d just asked someone to send Dorothy Bennett home, then gone to the police station himself.

He’d seen Joanne Morgan first, asking her who had really lost the watch at the beach that day. At first, Joanne Morgan had tried to lie, sobbing and playing the victim. But Brian’s eyes had been as cold as ice, and his tone had carried a threat, saying he’d been hurt too much lately and had no patience left for liars—he’d take ruthless revenge on anyone who deceived him. Joanne Morgan had been scared by his demeanor and finally confessed through her tears, admitting she’d lost the watch herself but had deliberately framed me.

Justin Cole had told me all this. When I’d heard it, I’d just nodded faintly, feeling no strong emotion. Joanne Morgan and Lily Bennett had gotten what they deserved—they had no one to blame but themselves. As for Brian—maybe he’d been making amends, maybe he’d been seeking redemption—but none of that had had anything to do with me anymore.

When Justin and I had gotten home, my father had already cooked dinner. He’d smiled and asked, “Did you bring gifts for your mom and our little granddaughter at the cemetery?” I’d nodded, sitting at the table and chatting with my father while Justin helped set the dishes. The lights had been warm, and the atmosphere had been peaceful and cozy.

I’d known the pain of the past would never completely disappear—like the scar from that car accident, it would always be there. But I’d learned to live with it, not letting it control my life anymore. I had my father’s love, Justin’s companionship, and hopes for the future. As for Brian Locke—he could deal with his guilt and redemption on his own. Our lives had long gone in different directions, never to intersect again.

That goodbye in front of the uncarved tombstone hadn’t just been a farewell to the daughter I’d never met—it had been a final goodbye to my old self, and to that past relationship. From now on, I would live well—for myself, for my father, and for that little life that had never gotten to come into the world.