A few rings, then a woman's voice picked up. "Who is this?"
Behind the voice: the rush of a shower running.
Hilda opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
She curled in on herself, inch by inch, until she was doubled over, making a sound somewhere between laughing and sobbing, a raw, airless rasp that could have been either.
The woman on the other end let out a scoff and hung up.
Just before Hilda blacked out, a searing cramp tore through her lower abdomen. Then she felt warmth, thick and steady, spreading down her inner thighs.
When she opened her eyes again, a doctor was telling her she had lost her first child.
After leaving the funeral home, Hilda went straight home.
She had been shattered, one blow after another. Her body, still wrecked from the miscarriage, hadn't even begun to heal. She should have been resting.
But she couldn't wait another second. Everything connected to Jasper was an invisible hand around her throat, squeezing the air out of her lungs.
She needed to get out. Now.
She hadn't expected Jasper to come back.
His eyes went red the instant he saw the ransacked apartment. He grabbed the suitcase from her hands, his voice cracking. "Where are you going?"
Hilda's voice was hoarse, scraped raw. "Jasper, let's break up."
"No. No, no, baby, why would you suddenly want to break up?"
Tears flooded Jasper's eyes. He seized her hands, gripping them so hard his knuckles went white.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Work's had me tied up these past few days and I neglected you. Don't hold it against me, please?"
"Hit me if you want. Scream at me. I'll get on my knees right now. Just don't break up with me, okay?"
He pulled her into his arms, rambling about how terrified he'd been when her phone wouldn't go through.
"Jasper." Her voice cut through his noise. "Have you ever actually thought about marrying me?"
He froze. Something panicked flashed through his eyes before he could hide it.
"How could I not want to marry you? Our wedding is a week away!"
He pressed her hand flat against his chest. "Hilda, did someone feed you lies? Is that what this is about?"
Hilda looked at the man in front of her, his face arranged into perfect, tender devotion, and felt nothing but revulsion and absurdity crashing together.
She wrenched her hand free. Her nails raked across the back of his hand, leaving a thin line of blood.