Chapter 3 - The Woman I Failed to Protect
Emily was lying in a hospital bed when I entered.
An IV was attached to her arm. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when she heard my footsteps.
“Hey,” she whispered.
I sat beside her and took her hand carefully.
“I’m here.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she asked the question I deserved.
“Are you angry at me?”
My chest tightened.
“Angry at you?”
“For making you choose,” she said. “Between me and them.”
I lowered my head.
For two months, I had watched my wife become quieter.
I noticed she stopped eating dinner sometimes.
I noticed she avoided the living room when my family was around.
I noticed she said she was tired more often.
And every time I asked, she told me she was fine.
Because I had taught her that saying anything would cause a problem.
I had made keeping peace with my family more important than listening to my wife.
“No one should have made you feel like a choice,” I said.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I wanted them to like me.”
“I know.”
“I tried so hard.”
“I know.”
“I thought if I cooked more, cleaned more, stayed quiet, and stopped complaining, eventually they would accept me.”
I pressed her hand gently against my cheek.
“Emily, you never needed to earn the right to be respected.”
She cried silently.
“I should have seen it,” I continued. “I should have protected you the first time they treated you badly. Instead, I told you to ignore it. I told you that was just how they were.”
She looked at me.
“What happens now?”
I took a breath.
“Now, they leave.”
“Ethan, they’re your family.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I love them. But love does not mean allowing them to hurt you.”
Her eyes closed again.
“Your mom will hate me.”
“No,” I said. “She can blame me.”
For the first time that night, Emily gave a small, tired smile.
Then the baby kicked.
Her hand moved to her stomach.
“There he is,” she whispered.
I placed my hand beside hers.
A tiny movement pressed back against my palm.
I felt tears rise in my eyes.
“Our son,” I said.
“He needs a better home.”
Emily looked at me.
May you like
“So do you.”
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