"If you're having trouble sleeping because of your insomnia, I can prescribe you something if you come to my clinic tonight, okay?"
I took a soft breath and looked at my watch for the time. It's five pm in the afternoon, and it still feels like the morning just passed so fast.
"Okay, I'll see you tonight," I said.
She stood up and smiled, "Bye, I have to go. See you!"
After staring at the empty screen for a while, I'm still confused. Every day, I felt like my whole world was falling apart. It's getting harder for me to connect with my son, and my husband and I are divorcing to end our marriage.
And the thought of my miscarriage brought tears started to flow down my cheeks again. I gently sat down on the cold floor, bent my knee, and cried out of sadness over what had just happened.
****
St. Benedict’s Clinic, 8 pm.
As I walked in the hallway, I massaged my temple and looked for Ariella's office, where she was waiting for me. When I was about to enter, I heard a familiar voice in the corner, and there I saw Jasmine with Hugo. Jasmine bit her lower lip, saying, "Hon, I think I sprained my ankle. I’m sorry, it’s supposed to be our date today, but here we are…"
And Hugo stood up, kissed Jasmine’s forehead and said, "Wait here, I'll call the doctor."
"Thank you, hon…" Jasmine said as she gave my husband the sweetest smile.
I walked towards her after Hugo had just left. "YOU!" I pointed a finger at her.
She looked up with sharp eyes and it took her a few seconds to say, "Oh, Hello there! What a surprise! Are you spying on us?"
I clenched my fists and heaved a heavy sigh of anger as I glared at her, then raised an eyebrow, "It’s just a waste of time to spy on someone like you!"
"Someone like me?" she laughed.
"Yes, a gold digger and a cheap whore."
Her facial expression darkened, she wanted to get up, but her ankle hurt, so she sat back down. She then smirked meanly and said, "I'm going to be his wife soon, which means I'm going to be your son's stepmom. Do you think I'm going to be nice to him? No, your son needs to suffer just like—"
She didn't finish her sentence because I slapped her face not just once but twice; she held her face in shock as she glared at me and yelled, "You don't have the right to slap me, bitch!"
"But you don't have the right to do that to my son!" I answered and added. "And my son is not some kind of trophy you can show off!