The Day I Miscarried, He Was Delivering Another Woman’s Baby Chapter 04

The Day I Miscarried, He Was Delivering Another Woman’s Baby Chapter 04

Tessa’s face flushed crimson.

The customers put their items down and walked out.

Tessa’s eyes reddened instantly. She turned to Soren.

“Soren, she came here to start trouble, didn’t she?”

“I just thought the sweater was warm. The material is soft. It’s perfect for the puppies. She spends so much of your money. It’s not like she only has one piece of clothing. Why does she have to slander me like this?”

“Those were my regular customers. What are they going to think of me now? How am I supposed to run this shop?”

Soren wiped her tears with a pained expression. Then he wheeled on me.

“Alessa, I took the sweater. Why are you taking it out on Tessa?”

“It’s not like it was worth anything. When did you get so petty?”

“And when your belly gets bigger, you won’t be able to wear it anyway. Just ask your mother to knit you another one.”

“It’s not designer. It’s not a collectible. Is it really that important?”

I looked at that condescending face and snapped.

I drew back my hand and slapped him. Hard.

“Correct. The things my mother made are that important. Because she will never knit me another one!”

“While you were with Tessa—while you chose to play midwife to her dog instead of answering my calls for help—my parents died!”

Soren’s eyes flew wide. His hand dropped from Tessa’s shoulder.

“What did you say? Your parents, how could they—”

Before he could finish, Tessa shoved me hard.

“Who the hell are you to hit him?”

“It’s a ratty old sweater, that’s all. No one wants it anyway. Here, take it back!”

She snatched the pieces off the puppies and hurled them into the litter box the shop assistant had just carried out.

“Stop acting pitiful. You say your parents are dead? I saw them this morning at Trader Joe’s.”

“I can’t stand women like you. You get pregnant and think that lets you control your husband. You lie for sympathy. You make endless scenes. You’re an embarrassment to women everywhere.”

The litter box hadn’t been cleaned.

Clumped urine and feces smeared into the sweater. The stench spread.

My mother’s last gift. Destroyed by her.

The shop assistant was terrified. She stammered, “I-I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know she would—”

I didn’t look at her.

I only looked at Tessa.

Rage blazed in my chest. I raised my hand to strike her.

My hand never reached her. Soren’s palm connected with my face first.

The crack of it silenced the entire shop.

The force spun me sideways. My right cheek ignited. My ears filled with ringing.

I looked up at him. I couldn’t believe it.

Soren himself looked stunned for a fraction of a second.

Then his eyes flicked to Tessa’s red-rimmed gaze. The hesitation vanished. Only disgust remained.

“Alessa. What gives you the right to lay a hand on Tessa? Because she exposed your lie?”

“Weren’t you a journalist? Weren’t facts your whole thing?”

“You’d use your own parents to spin a story like that. Aren’t you afraid the consequences will land on your child?”

“Now. Either apologize, or grab your trash and get out. Make another scene and I’m calling the cops.”

It was still raining when I got home, clutching the ruined thing that no longer looked like a sweater.

I was soaked through. Shaking with cold.

The rain had washed off some of the filth, but the sweater was destroyed beyond recognition.

It was supposed to keep me warm. My mother’s warmth.

I sat on the couch all night.

As the sky began to lighten, I tore up the divorce agreement. The one I had drafted to end things peacefully.

Soren was right about one thing.

A journalist’s job is to lay out the facts.

So I would let everyone see the truth.