Chapter 24
The ward door clicked shut behind Lena. After that, Micah sat frozen on the bed, staring at the chair she’d left empty. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the silent room.
He slid off the ring he’d worn since their wedding, tears spilling down his face.
Laris was right. Caleb was right. Lena, above all, was right. He’d brought this on himself.
When Micah’s wounds healed, he returned to his house in his home country. The house felt hollow, with every corner heavy with memories of Lena. Each memory twisted the knife in his heart.
In the nursery upstairs, he traced his fingers over the things they’d chosen together.
“Micah, do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” Lena had asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.
He’d wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I’ll love them regardless.”
“What color should we get for their clothes?” she’d wondered aloud.
He’d kissed her cheek and grinned at her indecision. “If you want to know the gender, I can ask the doctor.”
She shook her head. “No, let’s let the baby surprise us.”
“Blue, pink, green, yellow- our baby will look perfect in anything.” Micah’s fingers grazed the neatly folded baby clothes. “Leave this to the household staff,” he’d told her once, gently taking the laundry from her hands. “You’re pregnant–you shouldn’t be doing this.”
Lena had kissed him and teasingly said, “Fine, I’ll be careful. But I read that babies feel happier when their parents prepare their clothes themselves.”
He’d guided her to the couch and said, “Then I’ll wash them. Our baby will be the happiest in the world.”
Micah still recalled the thrill of washing those tiny socks that were no bigger than his fingers, the first sparks of fatherhood warming his chest. Now, he pulled the untouched clothes from the closet, each piece a reminder of the plans he and Lena had made. He sank to his knees, clutching the fabric as sobs wracked his body. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
At the cemetery, he laid out snacks a child would love and set a doll he and Lena had sewn together beside the grave. “I’m sorry, little one,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I failed you. I failed your mom.” He wrapped his arms around the headstone, tears streaming down his face.
He’d been blind to his own heart, mistaking regret for love and entangling himself with Laris. He’d betrayed Lena–the woman who’d once looked at him with pure love–and left her shattered.
“I’m sorry, my baby,” he choked out. “Once I’ve settled everything, I’ll come to you, okay? I’m the one who messed up the most. I failed you and your mom. I need to make this right.”
1
He wept at the grave until night fell and the cemetery manager approached. “Sir, it’s late. You should “The child’s gone. Take care of yourself.”
go,” the
man
gently said, his voice tinged with pity.
The blank headstone, without a name or photo, marked a tiny life lost.
Micah waved off the manager’s help and stumbled down the hill alone. He didn’t deserve anyone’s compassion. He’d killed his own child.
