“She was so small. She wrapped her tiny hand around my finger and wouldn’t let go. And then…” Her voice breaks. “And then she was gone.”
My whole world tilts on its axis, and my stomach lurches in response.
“The nurses dressed her, and took pictures for me,” Zalea chokes out. “I had a private burial for her at the cemetery in town, just me, my brother, and my parents.”
I stagger to my feet and throw up, the sound violently ripping out of me.
“How could you not tell me?” I shout, chest heaving, and she flinches.
“You weren’t there,” she says, climbing up too. “You were chasing your dream. You made it clearthatwas your priority.”
I feel like she’s split me open and ripped my heart out.
“If you had told me you needed me, I would’ve found a way to come,” I say.
“You should have known,” she fires back through tears. “I shouldn’t have had to beg you to choose me.”
I was leaving the next day when she told me she was pregnant, and I had convinced myself she understood.
“Is that why you stopped answering me halfway through the tour?”
“I stopped because every message from you reminded me of what I lost,” she sobs. “Of what we could’ve had. I didn’t want to be alive, Gabriel. I had to fight every day just to survive. I couldn’t surf. I couldn’t breathe. My family was terrified they would come home one day and I’d be gone.”
The ocean roars behind us, but it’s nothing compared to the sound in my head.
Our daughter. She carried our daughter. She lost our daughter.
And I was on the other side of the world.
How did no one tell me?
How did this happen without me knowing?
How did I miss the most important moment of my life?
“Gabriel?” she says, voice small..
I can’t look at her because every time I do, I see a tiny hand wrapped around her finger.
“I need…” My voice breaks. I drag a hand through my hair, pacing along the shoreline. “I need time.”
Her face crumples. “Gabriel?—”
“I can’t do this right now.” I press my palms to my eyes like I can physically shove the images out of my head. “I just found out I had a daughter, and I just found out she’s dead. I need a second to breathe before I say something I can’t take back.”
The hurt on her face almost makes me fold, but the pressure in my chest is building, and if I don’t step away, I’m going to explode.
“I’m not leaving you,” I add. “I just… I need space to process.”
She nods slowly, wiping her cheeks. “Okay.”
I walk back toward the path that leads up to the road, my mind racing so fast I can’t catch a single thought long enough to hold onto it. For four months she carried our daughter. Four months. She went into labor alone. She buried her alone. And I was on a surfboard somewhere, chasing approval.
By the time I reach the road, my hands are shaking but I yank my phone from my pocket and scroll until I find Zale’s name.
He answers on the second ring. “What?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap.
