Chapter 3

I ended up taking a cab alone to the downtown ER.

It took two IV bags of antihistamines and corticosteroids before the hives finally began to recede, though my throat remained so raw I could barely speak.

Just as I shuffled into the main lobby, I walked right into Brandon and Rachel.

Rachel had a neat, sterile bandage wrapped around her wrist, happily holding up her phone to record a vlog.

Brandon walked beside her, carrying an upscale shopping bag in his hand.

"Grace! Perfect timing—we just finished getting my shot downstairs and came up to check on you!"

Rachel hurried forward, intentionally angling her camera lens straight at my pale, haggard face.

Inside the gift bag were several sets of designer baby boy clothes.

"I heard Grace has been stressed out lately. It must be all the pressure from trying to conceive for so long."

"I went to a famous blessing chapel to get these blessed baby clothes. May they bring you the luck to get pregnant soon!"

My eyes locked onto the baby clothes, burning with silent agony.

For three long years of marriage, I had suffered through hell trying to give Brandon a child.

I swallowed bitter fertility concoctions until my taste buds went completely numb.

Every single month brought endless ovulation-stimulating hormone shots, leaving my abdomen mottled with purple bruises.

The raging hormones caused chronic insomnia, keeping me awake through nights of blinding pain.

Back then, Brandon had held me close with tears of sympathy in his eyes:

"It's okay, Grace. We'll let nature take its course. Even if we never have kids, it's you and me against the world."

I glared coldly at the two people standing before me, reaching out and shoving the gift bag away.

"Take it back. I don't want it."

I barely used any force, yet Rachel let out an exaggerated, theatrical shriek.

She stumbled backward dramatically and collapsed hard onto the polished tile floor.

With a rustling crash, the designer baby clothes scattered across the floor.

Brandon bolted forward, pulling her up before turning to roar at me in pure fury.

"Rachel ran all over town to get these blessings for you, and this is how you treat her?"

"Can you stop taking your bitter frustration over being infertile out on innocent people?"

Rachel melted into his embrace, sobbing pitifully toward her phone camera.

"I'm sorry... I just saw how hard Grace was struggling with IVF... I only wanted to share some good luck with her..."

The surrounding patients and visitors immediately crowded around, whispering and pointing at me with open disgust.

"What an ungrateful woman, pushing someone who gave her a gift."

"Probably barren and bitter, can't stand seeing anyone else happy."

Watching Brandon shield Rachel with fierce, tender protectiveness, I turned away with absolute numbness and walked straight out of the hospital doors.

"Brandon, if you're so eager to start a new family, go right ahead. It has nothing to do with me anymore. Just get the hell out of my life!"

That very afternoon, she uploaded an edited clip to TikTok.

The caption flashed across the screen in bold letters: "I tried to bless my best friend who's been struggling with infertility for three years, and she publicly shoved and humiliated me."

The video conveniently cut out the fact that I had almost suffocated from an allergic reaction.

It only showed her tearfully offering baby clothes, followed by me shoving her to the ground with a cold, heartless glare.

Within hours, the video went viral.

Public outrage swallowed me like a tidal wave.

My social media accounts were doxxed, and my DMs flooded with vile, graphic harassment.

Strangers dug up my history from before our marriage.

"No wonder she's barren. She grew up in an orphanage! She's got poison in her DNA!"

Even the orphanage that raised me was flooded with one-star reviews on Google, with trolls claiming the facility bred sociopaths.

Staring at the endless stream of vitriol, my hands and feet turned entirely cold.

Brandon slammed the front door open, his face dark with irritation.

"You've seen what's happening online. Post an apology video right now and say it was all a misunderstanding."

"Do you have any idea Rachel makes a living as an influencer? Several of her major maternity brand sponsorships are in jeopardy!"

"Couldn't you just swallow your pride at the hospital today? Did you really have to humiliate everyone like this?"

"I'm not apologizing."

"You know better than anyone what I went through to get pregnant. And you let her publicly humiliate me?"

"Are you completely blind, Brandon?"

Without waiting for a response, I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me.

Silence hung in the hallway for a few seconds before heavy knocks rattled the door.

"Can you stop acting like a petulant child?"

Brandon pounded on the wood, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"Open the door. Running away won't fix anything. Let's just talk like adults."