Ever since the first time Marina accepted a delivery, she insisted on picking up every meal herself. She’d have the food sent to the hospital’s main entrance, then head downstairs to collect it personally.
Back in the hospital room, Marina snapped a photo of Marigold sipping her restorative broth and sent it to Jonathan.
Jonathan was at work.
Every day, Marina would send him updates on his mother. Marigold had been hospitalized for ten days now, and in all that time, Niamh hadn’t visited her once.
Prescott was busy sorting through paperwork in the office. He couldn’t understand why Jonathan looked so grim, even after seeing that his mother was recovering
well.
“Hello?” Jonathan broke the silence by dialing a number.
Inside FY, Headquarters, Niamh never expected Jonathan to call her–especially not of his own accord.
She answered, but the line was silent.
After a moment, she spoke first. “Jonathan, is there something you need?”
Still, nothing but silence.
Just as Niamh was about to hang up, Jonathan’s voice came through, cold as ice. “Do you know what sets you apart from Marina?”
Niamh’s heart skipped a beat.
Logic told her to hang up. Emotion kept her listening.
She didn’t hang up.
“My mother’s been in the hospital for ten days. Marina’s been at her side every single day–so much so she’s even lost her job. But you haven’t shown up once.”
Niamh thought he was going to say something else.
“When I was hospitalized after the miscarriage, Marina didn’t visit me either, not
even once.”
“Did you want her to?” Jonathan’s calm retort was like a knife, sharp and unrelenting.
1/2
20:03
It was a miscarriage…
Did he have any idea what that was like?
Niamh still remembered there’d been another woman in the room next to hers during her hospital stay–a woman who’d also lost a child. Every day, that woman’s husband would bring her home–cooked meals, sit by her bed, and gently feed her warm tea. Niamh overheard them discussing their future, planning to try again in six months. The man reassured his wife that they were still young, that the nursery they’d prepared would not go unused.
Niamh, too, had once browsed for cribs and baby clothes on her phone in secret, saving cute little things even though she didn’t yet know if she was having a boy or a girl. She’d believed, once, that she’d need them someday.
Now, she couldn’t even bear to open that folder of saved items.
Jonathan had no idea that his throwaway comment would leave Niamh silent for so long.
Long enough for him to wonder if his phone had lost signal.
Before he could say anything else, the call ended with the flat tone of a disconnect.
Niamh had hung up.
Jonathan set his phone down.
Prescott noticed that Jonathan’s expression had grown even darker than before.
Two days later, Marigold was discharged. Sprague seized the opportunity to throw a lavish party at the Thomas Estate, inviting business moguls and celebrities from every corner of society–hoping to restore the Thomas Group’s reputation after recent setbacks.
Jonathan, of course, attended, and brought Marina as his date.
While Jonathan mingled with guests, Marigold took Marina’s hand and whispered, “If it weren’t for the old man stopping me, I’d have made Jonathan divorce Niamh long ago. He should have married you from the start.”
Marina offered a shy, affectionate smile and gazed at Jonathan across the room.
Just then, Jonathan glanced back at her and returned her smile.
“See? He’s never smiled at Niamh that way.” Marigold’s words only strengthened Marina’s belief in Jonathan’s love for her.
20:03
The party was in full swing–glasses clinking, laughter echoing, the grand halls alive with chatter.
When Niamh’s taxi pulled up outside the manor, she saw the crowd spilling onto the lawn, the lights blazing, the air thick with excitement. For a moment, she wondered
if she’d come to the wrong place.
