"Hello, I'm Amanda," said the cherub-faced woman in a cheery voice, her well-manucured hand stretched forward. "Your fiancé's fiancée."
Amanda's words echoed in Mali's ears, and reverberated a couple of times in her mind before she could understand what they meant. She blinked. Slowly. Not moving at all. She wasn't even sure her lungs were moving because she hadn't taken a breath since she looked up and saw that woman standing next to her, saying those words.
Her heart splintered into a million jagged pieces that tore her from within, but she didn't show it. She took care to school her expression, not giving away any of her feelings. She then sucked in a breath and slowly let it out.
Breathing was important.
Their fiancé, Peter, shot up to his feet so fast that his chair skidded against the floor before it toppled over. That earned the three of them some attention in the restaurant they'd been dining in.
Mali stared at Peter, taking in his horrified expression, which only affirmed Amanda's claims. She then shifted her gaze to Amanda, and got to her feet too before Peter could say anything.
"Hello to you too, Amanda," she replied softly, taking Amanda's hand in hers. "I'm Maliah. Your... fiancé's fiancée too, I guess."
"Amanda!" Peter semi-growled, pulling her forearm and forcing her to face him. "What the hell are you doing?"
Amanda smiled smugly. "I'm introducing myself to your fiancée, Pete. I'm telling her what I really am to you… since it seemed like you were never going to get around to it."
"Thank you…" said Mali, still trying to keep her composure, "for letting me know about your… relationship. I'm quite surprised to say the least, disappointed too, but I'll just deal, right? These things happens."
"Yes, I knew you'd understand." Amanda turned to face Peter who stood frozen, staring at Mali in apprehension. She released herself from Peter's grasp and linked their arms instead.
"Mali-" Peter started, but Amanda cut him off.
"See, Pete? I told you she wouldn't throw a fit. I know her better than you do. Mali is calm and… well-cultured," she said. And then with more spite in her tone, she added, "Or at least she pretends to be."
Mali was determined to handle the situation with utmost maturity, even as Amanda's words still resonated through her, ringing inside her head, making it more difficult to breathe. Her face remained neutral, impassive, a mask of calm that bellied the storm raging inside her.
"I'll-" she paused, swallowed. "I'll just excuse myself and let you two… talk. Yeah." She reached for her handbag with a shaky hand. "You can sit down and have my food, Amanda, since you seem to like leftovers."
She turned to leave, but paused and faced them both. They wore twin expressions of confusion as they looked at each other, and Peter slightly shrugged, before setting his eyes on Mali.
Mali eyes moved to the left where she locked her unreadable gaze solely on Peter, and said, "I suggest you start drafting your will, Pete."
"What? Is that a death threat?" asked Amanda. She sounded like she was just about to blow up.
"Just saying," Mali spoke with a small wry smile, never taking her eyes off of her now ex-fiancé. "You never know what the future has in store is all."
And with that, she walked away.
"Mali! Maliah?" Peter called after her, but she didn't care to stop.
"Let her go," Mali heard Amanda tell Peter just as she exited the restaurant, massaging her chest.
Hot tears suddenly coursed down her face as she walked dazedly towards the parking lot her car was packed at. It was actually Peter's car, not hers. She looked back, expecting to find him behind her, crying out in regret and begging her to forgive him. But Peter was nowhere in sight.
Disappointed, Mali supported herself with the wall, trying to steady her breathing that suddenly came in as short, ragged gasps. Her throat was dry, desperate for water, as though she'd been running a marathon. Her lungs were sawing her rib cage in half, but she forced them to process oxygen anyway.
Her unborn baby needed it.
And she needed to keep moving, to get home, and curl herself into a ball and cry like she was the one who invented crying.
How could someone as smart as her get deceived like that? There had been signs, obviously. Little voices in her head whispering to her. But she'd ignored them, pushed them aside because she didn't want to doubt the love of her life. She didn't want to seem like those women who let paranoia influence the decisions they made and ruin their relationships. But look where that got her.
She glanced back again, and still, Peter was nowhere in sight.
Mali angrily grabbed her ring finger, took off the damned diamond ring and threw it away, huffing. She felt disappointed, hurt, infuriated. Most of all, she felt pain. Excruciating pain gnawing at her very soul. It was the realisation that hurt the most - the realisation that she may have never been loved as much as she thought, or loved at all by the person she loved the most.
She continued walking even as her legs felt like they were going to give in any second.
Just as she reached the car and was about to get in, a sharp pain struck her lower abdomen and she sucked in a breath, winced, and clutched onto her belly, doubling over. Her handbag clattered onto the ground, and a few of its contents spilled out.
Groaning and trying to control her breathing, Mali held her abdomen protectively.
"Oh, God, no! No, no, no," she whispered through intakes of sharp breaths, "Mommy is fine, baby. Mommy is fine, don't worry yourself, okay?"
Another piercing pain seared through her and she screamed, her whole body shaking and her feet wobbly.
Mali didn't need any rocket scientist to explain to her what was happening. It had happened before. She knew.
"Please, baby, please... Oh, God- aaah!" she yelled again in excruciating pain and fell to the ground, on her knees.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" a deep, baritone voice asked.
Before she could attempt to see who that voice belonged to, she felt her skirt and inner thighs grow wet. New tears streamed down her face as her breaths continued to come shaky and ragged. Uneven.
"H-help me... please help me," Mali croaked, clutching on the stranger's arm with one hand.
"Uh, what- what should I do?" the man asked, slightly panicky himself. "Should I call an ambulance?"
Mali groaned again in pain, and with a trembling hand, reached underneath her dress skirt. Her fingers came out wet with blood. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it in, to stop herself from bursting out in tears. With reddish eyes, she finally looked up at the man who was kneeling on one knee, just by her side.
"Get me to a hospital," she ordered through clenched teeth. The ambulance was going to take too long.
"What? Shouldn't I just call the-"
"Now!" Mali roared.
"Okay! Okay." The man immediately scrambled to his feet before helping Mali up.
He supported her as they rounded her car to the passenger side, opened the door for her and helped her sit. He then went to the other side of the car, hurriedly picked up Mali's stuff from the ground and got in the driver's seat.
"Hurry up, goddammit!" Mali screamed again as the man pulled out of the parking lot, out of the restaurant premises and into the bustling traffic.
The man glanced at her, and then cracked his neck to the side to rein in his frustration.
"I'm Ed, by the way," he said calmly. "And I'm only tolerating your attitude because you're in pain. Just so you know."
But Mali wasn't listening to him. She could hear he was talking, but she was too busy praying for the bleeding to stop, for her pain to end, and for her child to survive. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to live through another miscarriage.
Her hands were still over her abdomen, and she was still crying like the world was ending. Because, honestly, it felt like part of it was.
"Everything is going to be alright, baby, I promise. You and I are going to be alright. Just hold on." She chanted, "We're going to be fine, we're going to be fine."
Hearing that, Ed stepped hard on the accelerator, swerving through the traffic, racing towards the nearest hospital. Speed limits be damned.
"You are going to be fine, ma'am," he assured her. He figured she needed to hear it from someone else. "Just hang in there."
"Aaah!" she screamed, and then groaned, gritting her teeth tight. She could feel more blood seeping from her and onto the car seat. "Please hurry up, please," she cried. "Oh God!"
Ed pressed down on the accelerator again, propelling the car forward at an even greater speed. He was going so fast that it felt as if the car might break free from the road at any moment, lifting into the air like a jet ready for takeoff.
Mali's breathing started to come in weak. She was even sweating profusely from the pain she was experiencing. Fortunately, the car soon screeched to a halt at the front of the emergency room, throwing them both forward.
Ed quickly jumped out of the car and screamed for whoever could hear him to help as he went to get Mali on the other side. He threw open the door and scooped her up just as some nurses and doctors came running, wheeling a gurney.
"Dr. Manghini?" one of the resident doctors whispered as Ed laid her on the gurney. The other nurses too seemed surprised to see her there, in that state.
"You know her?" Ed asked, surprised.
"Huh?" The resident doctor's gaze snapped up to him as they wheeled her inside. "Yes. She's a doctor here. What happened?"
"I- I don't know... I just found her in a restaurant's parking lot," he told them, trotting along. "I think she's pregnant."
"Call Dr. Nguyen to the fifth OT," the resident doctor told one nurse. "And inform Dr. Sommerdahl about this. God, she's going to flip!"
Mali grabbed the resident doctor's wrist and groaned weakly, "No, not Lei. Don't call Lei. Please."
"Okay, we won't call her," he assured her. And to Ed, he said, "Wait here, sir."
And they disappeared into the operation theatre, leaving Ed alone there.
Even as she was being wheeled away, Mali struggled to process what had just happened, desperately trying to piece her thoughts together, but they scattered like sand slipping through her fingers. None of it felt right — none of it was fair. She didn't deserve the deception, the betrayal, or the lies. And more than anything, she didn't deserve to endure a second miscarriage.
But sometimes, even when you aren't at fault, life still holds guilty and makes you pay for it. Mali had always known this, but knowing didn't make it any easier to accept. Why should she atone for something she hadn't done? Peter was the culprit. He was the one who had deceived her, the one who had betrayed her trust. He had told her he loved her, sworn it with conviction, but love isn't what he did to her.
Or maybe love is exactly that; pain. Maybe it isn't the warmth and safety people dream of, but a cruel illusion, a fire that consumes until nothing remains but a hollow shell of who you used to be. Maybe love is the dagger that carves wounds too deep to heal, the whisper of promises meant only to be broken. It lures you in with the comfort of belonging, only to leave you shattered, a walking corpse with a wounded soul and a heart so broken it barely remembers how to beat.
And as the world around her faded, as her eyelids fluttered and her body surrendered to the pull of unconsciousness, Mali finally understood what Lei had always told her. Love isn't a promise kept or a refuge that lasts. It isn't the fairy tale we are told to believe in, and it's certainly not honesty, not when betrayal hides behind soft words. No. Love is just- love is where we hurt.