Not a flicker of panic crossed his face. He reached over and tucked the blanket around me, then spoke with a tone that almost sounded put-upon.
"You heard that? Look, I had no choice. Beryl said adoption is only approved when the mother has a medical condition that prevents her from having children. Since you were already going in for the termination, I figured we might as well take care of the hysterectomy at the same time. Save you a second surgery."
He noticed the tears slipping from the corners of my eyes and gently wiped them away, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.
"I didn't expect a hysterectomy during pregnancy to cause that kind of hemorrhage, honestly. But lucky for you, the top OB-GYN I brought in for Beryl happened to be on standby at the hospital. You could say Beryl's good fortune rubbed off on you. Saved your life."
My whole body trembled. I gathered every ounce of strength I had left and swung my hand at his face.
The pain in my chest was so sharp it felt like something was being torn apart inside me.
"Dennis Sanchez, you're not human."
But my hand barely grazed his cheek. It didn't even leave a mark.
A small figure came shrieking across the room and slapped me hard across the face.
I fell back against the bed. The oxygen mask slipped off. I gasped for air, helpless and exposed.
I looked up.
A young woman stood there, tears brimming in her eyes, shielding Dennis behind her as she screamed at me:
"How dare you hit him! Do you have any idea he's been standing outside the ICU for three straight days waiting for you? If I hadn't brought him meals every single day, he would have collapsed!"
"This is the man I love more than anything, and you think you can just use him as a punching bag for your emotions?"
I didn't miss the flash of tenderness that passed through Dennis's eyes. Tenderness and heartache, all for her.
I'd seen that look before.
It was the same look he'd given me the night I drank myself into alcohol poisoning taking shots meant for him, and lost our first child because of it.
It was the look in his eyes when the debt collectors were about to chop off his hand, and I knelt on the ground crying, kowtowing until blood ran down my face, pawning the only keepsake my mother ever left me to buy him a way out.
I had done so much for him. Yet in the end, none of it mattered as much as a single tear from his new lover.