Part 3Ashes of My Life

When I woke up, I wasn't in the flames. I was in a hospital.

It wasn't Owen. It was a man I didn't know.

"You're awake? I'm your downstairs neighbor. I ran up to check the smoke, found you on the floor. I... I'm so sorry. The doctors... they said the baby..."

I managed a smile. "It's... not your fault. I know. Thank you."

A stranger. A stranger saw I was dying, and my own husband...

"What is wrong with those firefighters?" the neighbor fumed. "They just left you! I already filed a formal complaint. It's all over the neighborhood forums."

I shook my head. "My... husband... he's dead."

The look of pity on his face was all I needed.

I paid him back for the hospital fees and sent him on his way.

The "forums" were more than I expected.

#FireCaptainLetsPregnantWifeBurn.

It was on Twitter. It was on TikTok. The video my neighbor took of me, bloody and unconscious on the lawn, was everywhere.

The department was in full-blown crisis mode.

I was about to text Owen the divorce papers when a message from Chloe came through.

She was in the same hospital. Two floors down.

It was a picture of Owen, spoon-feeding her broth.

I closed the app and called him. It took five tries.

"What?" he snarled. "Do you want? To see if Chloe's dead? Sorry to disappoint you. I saved her. She's fine."

"Elara, I can't believe what you did. You tried to kill her. You have one hour to get down to her room and apologize. Or we're done."

Before I could speak, I heard her whimpering. "Owen, no... don't be mad at her. It's my fault... If she says I set the fire, just... just agree with her. A pregnant woman can't be stressed..."

"See?" he barked into the phone. "She's a saint, and you're a monster. I'm handling this."

"Fine," I said. "Let's get a divorce. I'll email the papers."

I hung up.

The texts started instantly. [Where are you? Are you crazy?] [You think I'm scared to divorce you? You're pregnant! You'll be on your knees begging me to sign that birth certificate!] [Get that shit offline, Elara. NOW. Don't make me tell the world what you really are.]

I blocked his number.

The nurses on my floor were all whispering.

"Did you see the guy in 305? So hot. And he's so devoted to his girlfriend." "I heard he's cooking for her. In the hospital cafeteria! He rented out a kitchen!"

I just stared at my IV.

That night, the doctor told me the smoke inhalation and the blunt-force trauma to my abdomen had scarred my uterus.

I would never be able to have another child.

My first reaction... was relief.