Her Lipstick Stains, My Bloodstains

Louie Fleming and I had been together for six years. When I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant, we decided to speed up our wedding plans. By the time I hit my second month of pregnancy, we had already set a date to get our marriage license.

We'd agreed to meet at the county clerk's office that day, but just before we left, Louie got a call from his "sworn sister," Lindsay Snyder.

He quickly said, "You take a cab there first. I'll meet you at the entrance after I take care of Lindsay's situation," and rushed out the door.

On my way there, I was in a car accident. Shaken and in pain, I called him frantically.

One of his college buddies is a hospital director—just a quick call from Louie could've fast-tracked me to emergency care. But he ignored my calls. Three times.

Then, finally, he sent a voice message, clearly irritated. "What do you want now? I told you, Lindsay's not doing well. Can't you just let me be with her for a while in peace?"

Tears welled up as I clutched my stomach in pain. Weakly, I recorded a response. "Louie, I was in a car accident... My stomach really hurts. I'm scared something's wrong with the baby."

I hit send.

But the message wouldn't go through.

That's when I saw it—the notification that he had blocked me.

Four hours later, I woke up in the hospital after surgery. I had barely made it through. But the baby didn't.

Lying there, staring blankly at the hospital room ceiling, my hands instinctively went to my stomach. Silent tears streamed down my face, a steady and unstoppable flow.

I remained in that numb daze until evening. I didn't move. I didn't speak. But then, the smell of food from the bed next to mine cut through the haze. That's when I realized—I hadn't eaten all day.

I picked up my phone to order delivery. But when I unlocked the screen, I saw that I hadn't exited the TikTok app, and the first video that popped up was from Lindsay.

There she was, sitting with Louie at a candlelit dinner. He was gently kissing her on the forehead.

Her caption read: "As long as he's here, I'll always have the courage to start over."

The happiness they shared felt like a dagger to my chest.

I couldn't stop myself. I typed out a comment: "A bitch and a dog. You two deserve each other forever."

The next day, I checked myself out of the hospital. The doctor told me I needed at least seven days of rest, but I was done. I went home.

The apartment felt the same, but to me, it was a different world now. Those past two days had shifted everything. I saw things so much more clearly.

Looking back on our relationship, I realized something painful: the only reason it had lasted for six years was because I kept compromising. I gave up so much for Louie because I loved him.

But losing the baby was the final straw.