The Day I Miscarried, He Was Delivering Another Woman’s Baby Chapter 13

The Day I Miscarried, He Was Delivering Another Woman’s Baby Chapter 13

It was quiet outside for a long time.

Then I heard him say it. Low.

“Alessa. I don’t have the face to ask for your forgiveness. I just want to do something.”

Soren didn’t leave.

He pitched his own tent. He stayed on as a field medic. Bandaging the wounded. Performing surgeries. Distributing medicine.

He never initiated contact with me.

But every morning when I stepped out of my tent, a thermal container sat outside.

Hot food inside.

I never ate a single bite. I handed it off to someone else.

We lived like that in the same place. Barely exchanging a word.

Until that day. I was taking photos of a little girl.

The sound of fighter jets tore through the sky.

Then someone was screaming at me.

“Alessa! Get down!”

A force hurled me sideways.

A deafening blast.

I hit the ground. Something warm and wet dripped onto my neck.

Blood.

Soren was dead.

He’d pushed me out of the way. Shrapnel caught him.

The little girl I had shielded beneath me wasn’t hurt.

In that moment, everything inside me was chaos.

Three years later, the network sent a new correspondent to relieve me.

I was going back. Promoted to Deputy News Director.

Before I left, I went to Soren’s grave.

I laid a paper daisy on the headstone.

“Resources are limited out here. This flower is from the little girl you saved that day. She asked me to give it to you.”

“She said thank you. For saving her life.”

I stood there a moment before I spoke again.

“Soren. I don’t have the right to forgive you on behalf of the child who never got to be born. Or on behalf of my parents.”

“But the debt you owe me—it ends here.”

“From today, it’s over between us.”

“Goodbye.”

[The End]