Chapter 3: The Room Meant for My Babies

Acting like a victim.

I looked away. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe.

Callum thought I had backed down. He started giving orders again.

"Poppy is coming out soon. Fix your face. Don't scare her."

I didn't answer. I just turned and walked into the bedroom.

Outside, I could hear Brielle crying softly.

"Callum, does Maren absolutely hate me?"

"I know I shouldn't be bothering you two. But raising Poppy all on my own... I'm so scared I won't make it."

Callum's voice was incredibly gentle.

"She's just stressed from the pregnancy. Don't take it to heart."

I leaned against the back of the door. My fingers curled into fists.

I didn't go out for dinner. I lay in bed, sleeping heavily for a long time.

When I woke up, I had a high fever.

I went out to find some medicine. Brielle had just finished showering and was blow-drying her hair.

She was wearing my silk robe.

The matching set I had bought for Callum and me to wear after our wedding.

Callum must have noticed my shift in mood. He walked over and lowered his voice to explain.

"It was the only new sleepwear we had. I had to give it to Brielle. Don't make a big deal out of it."

I looked away. An unspeakable exhaustion washed over me.

It wasn't until I opened the medicine cabinet that he noticed how sick I was.

He reached out and felt my forehead. He frowned.

"Why do you have a fever?"

He brought me hot water. Watched me take the pills.

Then he went to the kitchen to make me soup and brought a cold towel for my head.

"It's okay. Once your temperature drops, you'll feel better."

He took care of me so naturally.

Comforted me so naturally.

Like none of today's conflicts had ever happened.

Like our relationship was absolutely flawless.

But a weak voice coming from the doorway shattered that illusion to pieces.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

Daddy.

What a sickeningly ironic title.

Callum's hand froze on the cold towel.

I followed his gaze.

Brielle's daughter was standing outside the nursery. She was hugging a fluffy stuffed animal.

I looked past her, into the room. My eyes instantly burned.

Callum panicked.

He sounded frantic, but he tried his hardest to keep his voice down so Brielle wouldn't hear.

"Maren, it's just a title. Poppy grew up without a dad. She's close to me and needs a father figure, that's why she calls me that. Don't overthink it."

The tears fell uncontrollably. Dropping onto the back of my hand one by one.

I looked at him. My voice was completely hoarse.

"Why is she sleeping in the nursery?"

"Callum, there's another guest room. Why did you let her sleep in the nursery I decorated with my own hands?"

Callum didn't answer right away.

He let go of me. He rushed over to scoop up a pouting Poppy and coaxed her gently.

Then, he went to softly comfort a teary-eyed Brielle.

I sat alone on the couch. Like an unwelcome stranger intruding on them.

Like a villain bullying their happy little family of three.

After calming them down, he shut the door to block out the noise. Only then did Callum speak.

"Poppy liked the magical decorations in there, so I let her stay in it."

"Maren, it's just a room. They won't even be here long. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

When he said that, his voice held an exhausted, accusatory tone.

I suddenly let out a laugh.

Why was I making a big deal out of this?

Because I had poured every ounce of my love into setting up that room.

Because everything inside it was meant for my child.

My home was no longer mine. And he dared to ask me why.

I pulled the termination of pregnancy consent form out of my bag. Gently placed it on the table.

"Callum—"

Just as I spoke, Poppy pushed the door open and walked out.