“Of course I came.” Paul moved closer to the bed, his throat tight with grief and guilt and a complicated tangle of emotions he couldn’t name. “Karen said you wanted to see me.”
Michelle’s attempt at a smile was heartbreaking. “I wasn’t sure you would. After everything.”
“Michelle—” Paul started, then stopped, not knowing what to say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about all of it. About our marriage and about how things ended.”
“I know.” Her voice was barely audible, each word clearly costing her. “I’m sorry too. I was angry for so long, but I’m not anymore. I just... I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you when we were married, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. And now...” She gestured weakly at the IV line, the monitors, the evidence of her dying body. “Now I’m running out of time.”
Paul sank into the chair beside her bed, his heart hammering. “What is it?”
Michelle’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you remember when I was pregnant? When you were opening the second restaurant in San Diego?”
Paul’s breath caught. Of course he remembered. Michelle was six months along, glowing despite her exhaustion. While Paul obsessed over menu development and investor presentations, she talked about nursery colors and furniture. He’d been excited about the baby, but so consumed with the restaurant that the pregnancy had felt like something happening in the background of his real life.
“Of course I remember,” Paul said.
“Do you remember the day I called you?” Michelle’s voice broke. “When I said something was wrong?”
Paul nodded. She’d called him in a panic and told him she was having tummy cramps and some bleeding. He was in the middle of a crucial investor meeting, four hours away, and couldn’t leave.
He’d tried to calm Michelle down. They’d seen the midwife three days earlier and everything was fine. Michelle had bled earlier in the pregnancy, and the midwife had said it was normal and nothing to be worried about.
So he’d told Michelle she was probably just overdoing things. Even when she’d insisted that something felt wrong, he’d told her to call the midwife if she was really worried. He’d be home the next morning. If the pain was still there, he’d take her to the hospital.
But Michelle hadn’t been overreacting. She was having a placental abruption, and their baby was losing oxygen. By the time he arrived home, their daughter had died, and Paul was heartbroken.
“I listened to you.” Michelle’s voice was soft, not accusing him of anything—just stating the facts. “You said I was probably overreacting, and I believed you. I lay down and tried to rest, but the pain got worse. Much worse. I tried calling you again, but I couldn’t reach you.”
“My phone was off during the celebration dinner,” Paul said, the memory making him sick. “After we closed the deal.”
Michelle had called the midwife when the pain was unbearable and the bleeding was heavy. When she arrived at the hospital, they did an emergency ultrasound. By that stage, there was no heartbeat. Their beautiful daughter had died.
“The doctor told me something afterward,” Michelle continued, her voice steady despite her tears. “He said that if I’d come to the emergency room when the pain and bleeding first started, they could have done an emergency C-section. At twenty-four weeks, Sophie would have needed intensive care, months in the NICU maybe. But she would have had a real chance at survival. Maybe seventy, eighty percent if they’d caught it in time.”
The words took a moment to register. And then they hit Paul with devastating force.
If Michelle had gone to the hospital immediately?—
If she hadn’t listened to him?—
Their daughter would have lived.
“No,” Paul whispered. “No?—”
“I’m not telling you this to blame you,” Michelle said quickly, seeing his expression. “It wasn’t your fault, Paul. You didn’t know what was happening. I know you didn’t dismiss me to be cruel. You genuinely thought I was okay.”
“But if I’d told you to go to the hospital?—”
“If I’d trusted my instincts instead of listening to you, our daughter would probably be alive.” Michelle’s voice broke completely. “That’s what I’ve carried for more than twenty years, Paul. Not anger at you, but regret that I didn’t listen to my own body. That I let you convince me I was overreacting when every cell in my body was screaming that something was terribly wrong.”
Paul wiped the tears from his eyes. “You trusted me, and I let you down.”
Michelle squeezed his hand weakly. “When you arrived at the hospital, I realized?—”
“What?” Paul whispered.
“That I couldn’t stay married to you.” Michelle’s eyes met his. “Not because I blamed you for our baby’s death. But because I couldn’t stay married to someone who believed an investor meeting was more important than when I told you something was wrong. I was worried that I’d make the same mistake each time you said something can wait or you’ll be home later. I’d put my entire trust in you instead of myself, and that wasn’t healthy for either of us.”
More tears fell down Paul’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Michelle.”
