One Missed Call Killed Our Baby

Chapter 10

I thought things would get better after the divorce.

I really did.

I thought I'd feel lighter, maybe even free.

But I didn't.

The relief never came.

The grief, the trauma... it was all still too raw.

I felt like I was wandering through life on autopilot, numb and directionless.

One day, without even thinking, I found myself back at Matthew's grave.

The sky was overcast, heavy with gray clouds that mirrored the weight in my chest.

Each step toward him felt like walking barefoot through shattered glass, flashbacks of fights with Andrew, regrets I couldn't take back, and this hopeless, ridiculous wish that Matthew's death had all been some cruel mistake.

But as I got closer, I froze.

Someone was already there.

Her back was to me, but I knew that silhouette in an instant.

Claire.

My heart dropped. Instinctively, I ducked behind a nearby tree, confused and tense.

What the hell was she doing here?

Then I heard her voice, low, bitter.

"This is all your fault, Matthew."

I stopped breathing.

"You're dead, and yet... you're still the reason Andrew won't come back to me."

Her words sliced through the air like a blade.

I gripped the bark of the tree, trembling.

Even in death, she was blaming my child?

Claire kept talking, completely unaware she had an audience.

"When your mom posted your story, everyone turned on Andrew. They called him a monster. He shut me out like I meant nothing! I thought if you were gone, he'd finally come back to me, but no, everything just got worse."

Tears poured down my face as my nails dug into the tree bark.

I wanted to scream. To rip her away from Matthew's grave and make her pay for every word.

But I stood frozen.

Listening.

"You were supposed to fix everything, Matthew," she whispered. "But instead, you turned into this ghost that haunts me. I hate you for that. I hate you for everything."

That was it.

I couldn't stay silent anymore.

I stepped out, voice sharp with rage.

"How dare you talk to Matthew like that?"

My voice cracked. "If Andrew hurt you, then blame him! Don't you ever put that on my son!"

Claire spun around, startled.

"Emily? What, what are you doing here?"

"This is my son's grave. So maybe you should be the one answering that. You have no right to be here."

My voice shook, but I stood tall. "Matthew was innocent. And he's dead, Claire. DEAD. Are you even human?"

Her expression faltered for a second, like she might actually feel bad.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just… visiting. That's all."

My rage boiled over.

"Visiting?" I scoffed. "You think saying sorry makes up for everything? You wrecked my family. You're not just some poor girl caught in the middle. You're a homewrecker. A slut with no shame."

I don't usually talk like that.

I was raised to carry myself with grace. But Claire?

She doesn't deserve my grace.

If she's hurt, good. I won't lose sleep over it.

But then… something shifted in her face.

She took a step back, but instead of fear or guilt, she smiled.

"You really don't know, do you?" she said quietly.

I blinked, confused.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with something cruel.

"Do you even know how your son died? Have you seen the footage? No? Didn't think so. You just assumed it was an accident."

My heart slammed in my chest.

"Claire, what are you saying?"

Her smirk deepened.

"Oh, Emily. Sweet, naive Emily. You've been mourning for months, but you never even asked for the truth. Never requested the security footage. Never questioned a damn thing."

My hands started to shake.

"Stop. Don't play games with me. What are you saying?"