Pick A Number, He Said, I Picked Divorce Chapter 02

Pick A Number, He Said, I Picked Divorce Chapter 02

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

The doctor stood beside me, her face full of pity.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Lancaster. We couldn’t save the baby. Did you eat anything unusual today? Your test results show you already had signs of a threatened miscarriage. Combined with something irritating, the contractions worsened—that’s what caused the loss.”

My fingers trembled.

That morning, Fiona had smiled and handed me a box of pastries. She said she’d bought them especially for me. Said they’d help with my appetite.

The light in my eyes died.

Tears slid silently down my face.

There was no wound on my chest, but it hurt like I was dying.

Then my phone buzzed.

Fiona’s Instagram story.

“Today’s blind-box salary was $800,000! Best boss ever! We’re independent women—not like some women who only know how to ask men for money.”

The post included a screenshot of the transfer and a photo of her leaning on Silas’s shoulder. His profile was gentle. Her smile was bright.

Fiona. The company’s sponsored student. She’d graduated this year. She loved blind boxes. She’d suggested the company adopt a blind-box culture. Silas thought it was fun. He went along with it.

At first, it was just blind-box bonuses. Blind-box salaries.

Then Fiona suggested my living expenses should also be blind-boxed.

“Blind-box culture” had entered our marriage.

My phone buzzed again.

Silas’s comment under her post.

“Fiona’s right. Otherwise, the blind box loses its meaning.”

I laughed bitterly.

I pulled out my IV. A few drops of blood followed.

The doctor grabbed my arm. “What are you doing? You’re too weak!”

I forced a smile. “Doctor, please process my discharge.”

She was silent for a long time. Then she signed the papers.

The moment I left the hospital, I called my lawyer.

I asked him to handle the divorce.

The baby was gone.

The marriage should be buried with it.