Broken Promises, Reclaimed Vows

Introduction: I spent my youth with Sean, through our college days all the way into marriage. We lived in cramped, cheap rentals, and I bore him a child. The winter our baby died, we got divorced. Later, I remarried and got pregnant again. When my new husband, Ethan, found out I was suffering from terrible insomnia every night, he immediately booked plane tickets and asked my best friend, Amber, to accompany me back to our home city so I could relax and safely nurse my pregnancy. Yet at a dinner, Sean sat back and let a whole table of people mock and joke about my dead child. He forced me to call Ethan in front of everyone, claiming he'd only believe I was actually married if the call went through. The line rang over and over until it went to voicemail, completely unanswered. Sean scoffed, utterly convinced I had invented a fake husband just to come crawling back to cling to him. I finally understood that some people aren’t worth ever seeing again. From that moment on, Sean and I were dead to each other. Summer’s POV That night, Amber booked a nice restaurant, saying she wanted to treat me to a great meal. I stepped out to use the restroom. The thick carpet in the hallway swallowed all my footsteps. Turning a corner, I heard a burst of loud laughter coming from a private dining room. Assuming it was Amber’s table, I turned the handle and pushed the door open. A heavy wave of alcohol and cigarette smoke rushed over me. The room was packed. People were raising glasses and cracking jokes, and a banner projected on the wall read something about a corporate partnership signing. Just as I was about to back out, someone recognized me. A man holding a cigarette squinted, eyeing me up and down. "Well, well. Isn’t this Summer? The divorcée. What’s a divorced woman doing wandering into a place like this?" Every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me. My hand froze on the doorknob. I didn't say a word. A woman in a red dress chimed in, her voice just loud enough for the whole room to hear: "Oh, look who it is. Didn't she have a kid once? I heard the baby was born totally messed up." Another man chuckled. "Messed up? What happened to it?" The woman shrugged, taking a sip from her glass. "Died, obviously. Keeping a kid like that around is just pure torture for the parents anyway." Another woman sneered, "Tsk, what a shame. Guess she just has terrible luck." The room erupted into laughter. Someone slapped the table, and another let out a sharp whistle. A chubby man raised his glass high. "Hey now, don't talk like that! She’s a married woman now, you know. Mr. Sean's former flame! Who dares laugh at her?" He dragged out the words "former flame," enunciating every single syllable with mocking relish. The laughter grew bolder, and several people glanced toward the center seat at the main table, eager to see how the man in charge would react. The man sitting dead center didn't react at all. I had just wanted to find the exit, but as my gaze swept across the room and landed on him, my feet felt glued to the floor. Sitting there was Sean. He wore a dark dress shirt, the cuffs casually rolled up to his forearms. He hadn't changed a bit over the years. Still the same face, his eyelids half-drooped, looking as if nothing in this world could ever bother him. Memories came crashing back like a tidal wave. Back then, he would wait outside my apartment building all night in the freezing cold, tucking my freezing hands into his coat pockets. Later, when our son’s diagnosis report was slammed onto the table, his words grew fewer and fewer with each passing day. Standing at the door, the raucous laughter in the room suddenly felt miles away. Everyone at this table knew him. Everyone at this table answered to him. I thought that if he would just utter a single word to tell them to shut up, the entire room would go dead silent. "Summer!" Amber rushed in, grabbing my wrist and practically dragging me backward. "Let's go. Don't stand here." Behind me, someone chuckled in a low, teasing drawl. "Didn't they say she remarried? Her current husband—I bet she just paid some random guy to play pretend." The table burst into howling laughter again. Amber pulled me toward the door, but my feet dug in. I was waiting for Sean to speak. He remained silent. He slowly rotated the rim of his glass with his fingertips. Only when the laughter began to die down did he raise a hand, casually gesturing for quiet. The entire room fell into an instant hush. He lifted his eyes to look at me. "Take out your phone and call this husband of yours," he said evenly, his tone steady and calm. "Right here in front of everyone. Call him right now. If he picks up, I'll believe you." People set down their drinks. Some turned their chairs around completely to get a better view. My fingers gripped the edge of my phone case so hard my knuckles turned stark white. Sean stared at me, the corner of his lip twitching slightly. "What? Don't dare to dial?" Someone in the crowd jeered, "Call him! Why aren't you calling? Mr. Sean gave the word, so make the damn call!" Suddenly, I remembered how, many years ago, he had sat across a small table and said to me, "Summer, look at me." I dialed the number. The long, rhythmic dial tone rang through the earpiece. Over and over. Someone yelled, "Put it on speaker! Let everyone hear!" I pressed the phone against my ear, my knuckles locking rigid. The ringing echoed through the smoke-filled room again and again. Some crossed their arms to enjoy the spectacle; others already had their phones out, ready to record. After a dozen rings, the line clicked. It went dead. Nobody answered. The room held its breath for a split second. Then, an explosive wave of laughter ripped through the air, even louder than before. Someone pounded the table and bellowed, "I freaking knew it!" Sean didn't say another word. He lifted his glass, held it up against the light for a brief second, and took a slow, deliberate sip. With that single sip, the words I had been waiting for would never come. From this day on, whenever anyone in this room brought my name up, this would be the punchline: a pathetic woman who invented a fake husband just to come back and chase her ex. I shoved the phone back into my bag and pulled Amber out the door. In the car, Amber kept apologizing the entire drive back. "It's all my fault. I didn't check carefully when I booked the table. If I'd known he was in that room, I'd rather have died than brought you there." I leaned my head against the car window, silent. Amber's eyes welled with tears. "I swear I didn't know he was there. If I had, I would have dragged you out kicking and screaming." "It's not your fault," I said softly. "I pushed the door open myself." Amber added, "Those jerks were completely drunk. Don't take a single word they said to heart." "I didn't." "Then why are your hands freezing cold?" I pulled my hand back and shoved it into my coat pocket. Amber said, "I'm not leaving tonight. I'll sleep on the couch in your hotel room." "No need. Go home." "Don't read too much into him not answering. You can just try calling Ethan again later." "Stop talking," I said, staring out at the passing streetlights. "Just let me be quiet for a minute." Amber opened her mouth, but ultimately swallowed her words. I knew how insanely busy Ethan was abroad right now. I didn't blame him for missing a call. What hurt was the other side of it: I had been turned into the laughingstock of the entire room. Back at the hotel, Amber insisted on staying, but I managed to persuade her to leave. I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before gently placing a hand over my lower abdomen. It was completely flat. You couldn't feel a thing yet. Still, I knew there was a tiny life inside, growing quietly day by day. Late that night, Ethan called back. "Where did you go today? Did you eat well?" "Everything went great." I didn't utter a single syllable about the restaurant. He chuckled warmly. "That's good. I'll be back in a few days. Just wait for me a little longer, sweetheart." He caught the fatigue lingering in my voice, and his tone softened with concern. "Are you having trouble sleeping again? Should I book a flight and come home two days early?" "No, don't," I rushed to say. "Focus on your work. I'm completely fine." "If anything happens, call me immediately," he said over the line. "No matter how late it is, do you hear me?" "Yeah." If I told him what happened, he would hop on the next flight out tonight. I didn't want him abandoning everything he was working on for this. After hanging up, I lay in the dark with my eyes wide open until the morning sun broke through the curtains. The next day, I went to the hospital anyway. A scheduled prenatal checkup couldn't be delayed. The hallway was long, the linoleum soft under my shoes. I walked toward the OB-GYN department. Just as I reached the end of the hall, someone in a white doctor's coat stepped right into my path. It was Sean. He looked as though he had been waiting for me, his arm braced against the wall, trapping me in the corner. "Stop pretending," he said, looking down at me, his voice lowered so only the two of us could hear. "You didn't come here for a pregnancy checkup." "I registered with the OB-GYN clinic," I said. "Anyone can book an OB-GYN appointment." His eyes lingered on my face for a moment before drifting downward, raking across my completely flat stomach. A mocking smirk tugged at his lips. "From the moment you returned, to 'accidentally' opening that room door, to showing up at this exact hospital today—every single move was calculated. You're still hung up on me." I lifted my chin. "Sean, move." He didn't budge. Nurses and patients walking up and down the hall glanced over at us, but he kept talking without missing a beat. "I know every detail about your stay since you got back. Which hotel you're at, what date you booked your appointment—I know it all," he muttered coldly. "Summer, you went through all this trouble just to get in front of my eyes. You just wanted me to notice you, didn't you?" "Sean." I looked him dead in the eyes. "Don't you think you're flattering yourself a bit too much?" He raised an eyebrow. "You made that phone call in front of a whole room of people, and nobody picked up. What else am I supposed to think?" "Think whatever the hell you want." "Then tell me, what are you doing here?" "I came for a prenatal checkup," I enunciated every single word with icy clarity. "It has nothing to do with you." He had even tracked down the exact date I booked my appointment. Every time I set foot in this hospital, he would be watching. I wouldn't tell him a single thing about the baby growing in my womb. "Dr. Sean!" A bright, sweet voice chimed in. Chloe hurried over, the hem of her white coat swaying as she tilted her head up to speak to him. "Dr. Sean, the scans are ready. You need to review them personally. The department heads said they can all make it to the afternoon consultation." The sharpness on Sean's face melted instantly. He nodded softly, reaching out naturally to adjust the stethoscope slipping from her neck. I had zero interest in dealing with them. Slipping past Sean, I pushed open the door to the OB-GYN consultation room. Inside sat a female doctor wearing glasses. Seeing me walk in, she pointed to the chair across from her desk. "Have a seat. How many weeks along are you?" I didn't sit. I remained standing before her desk. The doctor waited a couple of seconds, then looked up again. "I'm not doing the examination here," I heard myself say, my voice steady, though a few patients waiting outside the doorway paused. "I want to transfer to another hospital."