Chapter 4Tears for Content

When I woke up, the fluorescent hospital lights felt like needles behind my eyes.

The local anesthesia was wearing off, leaving a dull, rhythmic cramping low in my abdomen. I tried to push myself up on my elbows, but my arms were useless noodles of bone and fatigue.

A nurse hurried over, pressing my shoulders back down. "Easy, honey. You took a heavy hit to the abdomen. You need to rest."

My phone chimed on the tray table, the screen lighting up with a string of notifications from Ethan.

Stop being stubborn. The shoot went great, let’s get dinner tonight.

My thumb moved deliberately, steadily. I blocked his number.

Then I went to my contacts and blocked my mother and Zoe, one by one.

From now on, I told myself, I don't have a family.

When Ethan, my mother, and Zoe finally burst into the room, I was staring blankly out the reinforced window at the grey parking lot below.

"Sarah, I am so sorry," Ethan said, reaching for my hand. "I genuinely thought you were just throwing a fit about the wedding."

I pulled my hand back, sliding it under the sterile white sheet without a word.

Mom dropped her leather tote bag onto the chair. "We’ve been looking all over for you. You block us on everything, and then you give us this attitude when we finally track you down?"

"You're alive, aren't you? What’s with the long face?"

My fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket until my knuckles turned yellow. My chest felt hollow, scooped out with a melon baller.

Zoe picked up the medical evaluation sheet resting on the rolling tray. She scanned the top paragraph, then let out a sharp, theatrical gasp.

"Sarah… your uterus… they removed it?"

My eyes snapped wide open. "What did you just say?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with fake horror as she read the lines again. "It says right here… you can't have kids anymore…"

I hauled myself up against the pillows, ignoring the white-hot tearing sensation in my lower abdomen, and snatched the papers from her hand.

I read the medical jargon over and over, cross-referencing my own name at the top of the page. My finger traced the lines of the prognosis, but my skin wouldn't stop shaking.

A single tear dropped, striking the glossy paper with a distinct tock, then another, until the ink began to blur.

Even through all the chaos of leaving Ethan, I had always assumed that one day I would meet someone kind, build a real home, and hold a baby of my own.

Now, the page in my hand informed me that door was permanently bolted shut.

Ethan dropped his chin to his chest. His shoulders began to heave, silent and heavy.

"It’s my fault," he choked out, his voice cracking. "I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. We don't need kids. It’s okay."

Zoe was crying now, too, dabbing at her dry eyes with a corner of her sleeve. "Sis, I swear I didn't know it would be this bad…"

I pulled the coarse hospital blanket up over my face, sealing myself in the dark. I didn't want to hear their apologies. I didn't want to hear their voices. There was nothing left inside me to break.

Ethan tucked the blanket gently around my shoulders. "Get some sleep. I’ll go talk to the doctor."

Mom and Zoe followed him out into the hallway.

The door didn't click all the way shut.

A moment later, my mother’s voice drifted through the narrow gap.

"Ethan, what are your plans now?" A heavy pause. "You’ve known her sister since you were kids, and you two work so well together on the channel. If worst comes to worst… you could always swap brides for the ceremony next month. We’re still family."

Another pause, weighted with something ugly.

"When your dad passed away last year, he made you promise to keep the family line going..."

My fingernails dug so hard into my palms I could feel the skin breaking.

The report was still sitting on the nightstand. I hadn't even had a chance to ask the doctor for details, yet my mother had already mapped out how to repurpose my ruined body for their convenience.

After a long silence, Ethan’s voice came through, flat and quiet.

"Let's not talk about this here. Don't let Sarah hear you."

I bit down on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, hot tears streaming down my nose to pool in the cotton of my pillow.

The door clicked open.

I kept my eyes closed, my breathing even, forcing every muscle in my body to stop shaking.

Ethan sat on the edge of the mattress, his thumb wiping a wet streak from my cheek. "Don't be scared, Sarah."

I didn't open my eyes.

A sudden snort of laughter cracked the silence behind him.

"We got it!" Zoe hissed, her voice shrill with glee. "She heard you! Look, the blanket is shaking!"

I opened my eyes. Zoe’s phone was planted two inches from my face, the red recording light blinking steadily.

Ethan turned around, squinting at the screen. "Did you catch all of it?"

"From the moment she read the report."

I pushed myself up, my voice shaking so hard the words barely formed. "Even this? Even the fact that I can't have children… you’re filming this for the channel?"

Zoe giggled, tossing the piece of paper onto my lap. "Relax, it’s a prop. The report’s fake. We just wanted to see what you’d do."

I lunged for the paper, but she snatched it back out of reach, grinning like a feral cat.

My mother’s laughter joined in, loud and unrestrained. "You should have heard your face! If we wanted to keep it private, would we be standing right here by the door?"

Looking at their bright, delighted faces, the gears finally clicked. It was just another setup. Another bit.

Ethan reached for my hand. "It’s just for the engagement series. Come on, we’ll have kids of our own someday. Stop crying."

I yanked my hand back and slammed my palm against the emergency call button by the headboard.

Zoe stepped closer, the lens tracking my face. "Come on, sis, give the camera a smile. How does it feel to know your plumbing is still intact?"

I shoved her hand away and shouted toward the hallway for the nurse.

When the nurse hurried into the room, I pointed a trembling finger at the three of them.

"Get these people out of my room."

By evening, the hospital security had escorted them off the floor, and I officially marked my chart as No Visitors.

My phone buzzed. An email from my professor:

The integrity review is cleared. No wrongdoing found. I heard about your accident; I’ll have the fellowship enrollment forms mailed to your residence. Rest up.

I read the lines three times before the iron band around my chest finally loosened.

Two days later, the doctor discharged me.

Ethan’s text waited for me at the bottom of the screen:

Sarah, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.

I blocked his number as well, booked a one-way ticket to London for that evening, and checked myself out twelve hours early.

From now on, my tears would never again be raw material for his punchlines.