During my third miscarriage, I went to the hospital alone to have a D&C procedure.
When I came home, the house was empty except for me.
I hadn't eaten all day, and I was starving. I could barely manage to cook a bowl of clear soup noodles, my stomach aching in protest.
I had only eaten a few bites when Theodore returned.
He dropped his briefcase on the table and, with a cold look, spoke directly to me. "I need to talk to you. I plan on bringing Jimena to stay with us tomorrow."
I froze, my spoon halting in midair.
Without noticing my pale face, Theodore continued, "Jimena is pregnant. I can't leave her alone. I'll bring her here to take care of her."
I stared blankly for a few seconds, my voice hoarse as I spoke, "Theodore, I just miscarried, I need care too…"
"How many times have you miscarried? What's the big deal?" Theodore frowned, impatiently interrupting me. "Other women keep working even while pregnant. You just lie in bed, living the good life, and can't even keep a child. How can you say anything?"
I opened my mouth but suddenly couldn't find the strength to argue.
He was right. I couldn't even keep a child.
Thinking of the three naturally lost pregnancies, a bitter pang surged in my heart, dull and painful.
Theodore Sinclair lowered his voice and tried to persuade me patiently, "Jayla, don't blame me. It's your own fault for being so weak. I'm doing this for your own good. Frequent miscarriages are hard on your body. You should stop trying to have children. Just consider Jimena's child as your own.
"Don't worry, she won't affect your position. Once the baby is born, I'll send her away. You'll still be my wife."
He spoke with righteous conviction, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Had this been before, I would have certainly cried and screamed, arguing with him at the top of my lungs.
But at this moment, I felt surprisingly calm inside.
I swallowed the last bite of my steak and nodded. "Fine. I'll go clear out the master bedroom so Jimena can move in."
Theodore was momentarily stunned, as if surprised by my strange reaction.
"You've finally come to your senses?"
I didn't respond to him. I simply set my fork down, got up, and went to the bedroom.
Despite the discomfort in my abdomen, I packed away my belongings, moving them all to the guest room next door.
That night, I slept in the guest room.
Before falling asleep, I received a call from the hospital.
"Mrs. Bennett, your embryo test results have come back."
The doctor on the other end informed me, "It turns out that the frequent miscarriages were caused by your husband's chromosomal issues. It's not really your fault. With his condition, no matter how many times you try, you won't be able to carry a pregnancy to term. If you want children, you should consider third-generation IVF."
I froze for a moment.
I had always believed that the frequent miscarriages were due to my weak constitution, but it turned out it was Theodore Sinclair's fault.
But it no longer mattered.
I cleared my throat and said softly, "That won't be necessary, doctor. My husband and I won't be having any more children."
Six years of marriage had come to an end.
