Chapter 4

Yoder once treated me with consideration. When his mother pressured us about having children, he'd defend me by saying, "She needs time to recover before considering pregnancy."

His mother would respond, "I told you to make her quit that job. No wonder she can't have children, spending so much time around death."

To avoid conflict, she'd leave after delivering her final remark.

Yoder would then comfort me, gently holding my hand and kissing it. "We're the ones who'll have a child, not them," he'd say soothingly.

But now he stood before me, stating that his family wanted a child.

Was I just a walking womb to him?

The irony made me laugh bitterly. My first words to him that day were, "Leave!"

Yoder's expression darkened at this. As he was about to speak, his phone rang.

Answering it, his face softened as he engaged in a quiet, intimate conversation.

Not wanting to hear their affectionate exchange, I opened the door, gesturing for him to go.

After the call, he looked at me with the same cheerful demeanor he had during it.

"Take care of yourself and the baby, okay Zamari?" he said. "We'll talk about the baby later."

Once he left, I vomited until my stomach hurt.

As if on cue, my phone lit up with news alerts. Images of Yoder and Cameron shopping hand-in-hand flooded my screen. Everyone was ecstatic. They discussed this golden couple who had played on-screen lovers before. They seemed perfect for each other. Talented and beautiful. No one remembered me.

Back at work, the familiar morgue odor, which I'd grown accustomed to, suddenly made me nauseous. It seemed I couldn't keep this child.

My boss's scornful voice interrupted my thoughts. "What are you doing? Standing around idle, you should leave!"

I didn't fit in here. I struggled with office politics and flattering superiors.

My work with the deceased made me more withdrawn, leading to minimal interaction with colleagues.

Early in my job, my boss's touch would linger uncomfortably. When I finally confronted him about it, his attitude shifted. His leering gaze turned to barely concealed animosity. From then on, he treated me with disdain, constantly making sarcastic remarks.

I wanted to quit. I submitted my resignation, but it was rejected for not providing the required three months' notice.

It was time to terminate the pregnancy.

Before leaving, I took some containers of the morgue's wastewater.

I went to the hospital alone for the abortion. The anesthesia clouded my mind, pulling me into hazy recollections.

I was an orphan. Zamari Trevor, named by Bruce Trevor. Though not blood-related, he was my everything - family, friend, and lover.

We were three years apart, growing up together in the orphanage. We supported each other through bullying. When we resisted, the dean's mother beat me.

One frigid winter night, he looked at me with determined eyes and promised, "Little sister, when I grow up, I'll buy you the warmest coat."

"We'll be happy," he vowed.

Life wasn't easy for two children trying to survive.

Bruce did everything he could. He left school to ensure I could attend college.

As a child, I cried to him, "I don't want to go to school. I dislike studying. You go, brother. I'll support you."

He laughed, wiped my tears, and refused, "No. Other children go to school, and my princess deserves the same bright future."

He added, "My dream is for you to have a better life."

The anesthesia pulled me deeper, and I felt the faint resistance of the child inside, as if begging me to reconsider because it was mine and Yoder's.

In my dream, her small voice called me "Mama," reluctantly saying goodbye. Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn't regret her brief existence. She even said she would leave with her uncle.

I told my baby, "Princess, in your next life, don't come to me again."

Then, with resolve, I said, "I will make the Elise Family pay."

Post-surgery, I lay under the harsh lights, staring blankly.

After repeated urgings from my doctor, I rose and wiped the tears from my face.

Ignoring the flood of news about the actor and his so-called "sweet romance," I texted Yoder on WhatsApp: [I just terminated the pregnancy.]