Outside Jason’s room, I overheard Melissa’s choked sobs. “Jason, please don’t be mad. I know I messed up, but I did it for you!” Jason didn’t respond. Melissa’s voice cracked, “You collapsed, and the hospital called her, but she wouldn’t even come! What if something had happened to you…” As if I was the one at fault. Jason’s weary voice finally broke the silence. “I’m tired, Melissa. I need some time alone.” A chair scraped against the floor, and Melissa appeared at the door. She froze when she saw me, eyes wide with shock. Jason turned, following her gaze. He looked pale and weak, lying in the hospital bed hooked up to an IV, a stark contrast to his usual commanding presence. Seeing me, his dull eyes flickered with nervousness? Uncertainty? Ashley? What are you doing here?” I brushed
past Melissa and walked into the room. “Well, I
<
couldn’t have people saying I didn’t care if my
ex–husband lived or died. We went to college
together, after all. No need for bad blood,
right?” Jason’s jaw tightened. He’d obviously
seen our Instagram exchange. His pride.
wouldn’t tolerate being publicly mocked. He
probably hated me even more now. The thought
was irritating. “Okay, well, here I am. Anything
else? I’ll be going now.” Jason’s lips twitched.
“Ashley, do you have to be like this?” I raised an
eyebrow. “Like what? You waited three days to
see me after my accident. I’m being pretty
damn considerate, compared to you.” He paled. He opened his mouth to speak, but my phone rang. It was the housekeeper. “Ms. Carter, we’ve almost finished unpacking, but there’s a box of pottery. It looks handmade. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with it.” “Pottery?” “Yes! It looks like you made it. That’s why I thought I should ask.” I caught Jason’s eye. He looked as surprised as I felt. And then it hit me. The original Ashley had made pottery. In
college, Jason had worked at a paint–your–own
<
pottery place. Ashley, obsessed with him, had practically lived there. She had no artistic
talent, and even less patience, focused solely
on Jason, leaving every time covered in paint and carrying some truly hideous creations. She seemed to enjoy it, completely unaware of how embarrassing she was. Jason, exasperated, had finally told her she was making a fool of herself,
and Ashley, always seizing an opportunity, had said, “Then teach me!” Jason hadn’t wanted to,
but Ashley was a big spender, a valuable
customer. He couldn’t afford to offend her. She
only stopped when he quit. That box was filled with the evidence of her “artistic” pursuits. “It’s nothing important. Throw it away,” I said
dismissively.
- 13.
“Wait,” Jason said abruptly. “You moved?” For
once, the guy was sharp. I nodded. “Yeah.” He
frowned. “Where? Why so suddenly?” I couldn’t
help but chuckle. “Mr. Stone, how many times
<
do I have to tell you? We’re divorced. Where I live is none of your business.” Jason flinched,
his hands clenching. After a long pause, he said
quietly, “…If you don’t want that pottery, I’ll
have someone get it.” I gave him a puzzled
look. “It’s mine. I can do whatever I want with
it.” That seemed to hit a nerve. The last spark.
of light in his eyes died out. Melissa hurried
over, her voice full of concern. “Jason, are you
alright?” He turned away, avoiding her touch.
Melissa stood there awkwardly. I wasn’t
interested in their drama. I turned to leave and
nearly ran into a doctor in the hallway. “Well,
hello!” A woman in her forties smiled at me.
Then her expression brightened with
recognition. “Are you feeling okay? Here for a
follow–up?” I was confused. Then I saw her
nametag: Dr. Susan Miller, OB/GYN. My heart
sank. The only reason Ashley would have seen an OB/GYN was… “I’m fine, thanks. Just
visiting a friend,” I mumbled. She seemed relieved. “That’s good. You’re still recovering, and the… the loss was hard on you. Take care
<
+)
32
and to… the 1000 was run you, and carc
of yourself.” She glanced around. “Your partner didn’t come with you today?” I stared at her,
stunned. Her words slammed into me. Loss?
The original Ashley hadn’t had an abortion? And “partner” Chad had been the one who rushed
to the hospital after the… miscarriage. The doctor must’ve assumed he was my boyfriend. “Jason! What are you doing?!” Melissa’s shriek echoed from the room. I turned to see Jason ripping out his IV, shoving Melissa aside, and striding towards me. He glared at the doctor, his voice tight. “What did you just say? She…. she…” The doctor looked bewildered. “Who are you?” Jason’s jaw tightened. He seemed speechless. “My ex–husband,” I explained. “The ‘partner‘ you saw me with before was a friend.” The doctor’s eyebrows drew together in
disbelief. “…So the baby was yours? Your wife had spotting and a missed miscarriage early in her pregnancy, and you didn’t know?!”
- 14.
I barely remember getting home. I was numb
with shock. I sat in the study, hand
unconsciously resting on my flat stomach.
How… the book had said Ashley had a jealous
rage and terminated the pregnancy. It hadn’t been a miscarriage. A wave of grief washed
over me, a phantom ache in my abdomen. It was as if I could feel the original Ashley’s pain, her despair on that cold operating table. I shook it off. The housekeeper had organized the study. I found a box labeled “College” and, at the bottom, an old scrapbook. If the
miscarriage was different from the book, what else was? I opened it. The first page was a
photo from freshman orientation week. A girl in a uniform grinned at the camera, the sun bright on her face. In the background, on a stage, stood a tall figure Jason. Below it, a handwritten caption: “Got heatstroke on the
first day. This guy took me to the infirmary and gave me water. He disappeared so fast, I didn’t even get to thank him. Found out who he was
–
today Jason.” Typical crush stuff taking
く
sneaky pictures of your crush. This must’ve
been when she fell for him. A sad smile touched
my lips. Such a small thing to fall in love over. I
touched my face. The selfish, manipulative Ashley from the book seemed so different from the bright–eyed girl in the photo. Hard to imagine this girl turning into the bitter,
vindictive woman who’d caused so much pain. I flipped through the pages. Every photo was of Jason. Him in class, him on the basketball court, him eating alone in the cafeteria, him working at the pottery studio… Little notes accompanied some of them. “His classes are so boring.” “How is he good at everything?” “He always eats alone. Does he ever get enough to eat?” “He’s always so busy. Never has time to talk to me…” It was Ashley’s secret crush diary. Four years of stolen glances and silent
yearnings. Every photo, every word,
contradicted the book’s version of Ashley. “He likes someone else. What do I do?” “Maybe I should give up…” “Graduation tomorrow. Going to confess and finally move on.” “He left during
<
graduation photos. Followed him and found out
his mom’s in the hospital. She’s really sick and they need money. What will he do?” The page for the graduation photo was blank. Ashley had missed her own graduation because of Jason.
My hands trembled. The scrapbook felt heavy,
as if I couldn’t bear to look further. As if
something terrible would happen if I did. My
chest ached. I couldn’t breathe. Compelled by
an unknown force, I turned the page… A
wedding photo.
