Chapter 5 Empty
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the smell.
Antiseptic. Sharp and sterile. The kind that burned your nose and told you you were somewhere you didn’t want to be.
I groaned and shifted. My body ached. I blinked until the shapes around me stopped blurring. White walls, a monitor beside me, a drip in my arm, a woman in scrubs leaning over my bed.
“Hey, sweetheart,” the nurse said softly. “Can you hear me?”
I swallowed, my throat raw. “Where… am I?”
“You’re at Riverton General Hospital,” she said. “You were brought in early this morning. Someone found you passed out near your car and called an ambulance. You were dehydrated, exhausted, and—”
Her eyes flicked down to the chart in her hands, then back to me. Her voice softened even more.
“You’d been bleeding quite a bit when the paramedics got there.”
Bleeding?
My mind felt sluggish, like I was dragging thoughts through mud.
“Bleeding from what?”
Before she could answer, the door opened and a doctor stepped in, a man in his forties, kind eyes, silver at his temples.
“Miss Richards,” he said quietly, pulling up a chair. “I’m Dr. Langford. You’ve had quite a scare.”
I nodded, not really understanding. My mouth was dry. “What happened?”
He took a slow breath, setting the chart aside. “You were about seven weeks along.”
The words barely registered. “Seven weeks?”
“You were pregnant, Miss Richards.”
Were.
The single word hit me like a physical blow.
“When you arrived, you were already miscarrying. We did everything we could to stop the bleeding and stabilize you. But… the pregnancy couldn’t be saved.”
For a long time, I just stared at him.
He must’ve seen the confusion, or maybe the disbelief, because he went on gently, “There’s no sign of lasting complications, but your body went through a lot. You’ll need rest. And support.”
Support.
Right. From who?
“When you were brought in, we tried to reach your next of kin. The number listed didn’t answer through the night, but we managed to get through this morning. Your mother said she’s on her way now.”
My chest tightened. “My mother?”
He nodded. “Yes. She should be here within the hour.”
He said a few more things about medication and follow-up appointments, but I barely heard him. My hands trembled under the blanket, fingers curling over the thin fabric that now felt like it weighed a ton.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, even though I didn’t mean it.
He offered a sympathetic nod before leaving the room.
Before she left, the nurse asked if I needed anything. I just shook my head, my hand drifting to my stomach.
Empty.
The door opened a few hours later. I didn’t need to look up to know it was her.
The soft clack of expensive heels on tile, the faint scent of her signature perfume, gardenia and something sharp, filled the sterile air.
“Ashley,” my mother said in that carefully composed tone she used when she didn’t know what else to say. “You look pale, sweetheart.”
I didn’t answer. I just stared at the IV drip, watching the slow, rhythmic fall of saline into my vein.
She sighed. “Your father wanted to come, but he had to go straight to the office. They had some sort of emergency at the company.”
There was always some other emergency when it came to me.
“He did text, though,” she added, digging into her bag and holding up her phone.
“See? ‘Get well soon, Ash. – Dad.’”
I almost laughed, but it came out as a weak breath. “Touching.”
“He means well,” she said quickly, as if defending him. “You know how busy he is. We just got back from Marbella yesterday and the flight was exhausting.”
“Right,” I murmured. “Four weeks on the beach. Must’ve been rough.”
Her lips thinned, and she pulled the chair closer to the bed, smoothing her skirt before sitting.
“Ashley, you know we would’ve come back sooner if we could, but we had business meetings planned in advance.
I know things have been… difficult for you.
But honestly, you bring a lot of this on yourself.
You make rash decisions, you get involved with the wrong people, and now look where it’s led you. ”
Her words stung, but I didn’t have the energy to fight. I’d heard versions of that speech my entire life. Apple was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong. I was the disappointment they tolerated because they had to.
I wanted to tell her that I’d lost a baby, her grandchild. But what was the point? She’d only see it as another “mistake.”
She went on. “You should really take some time to reflect, dear. All this drama with Nick and that poor girl’s death… it’s no wonder people are talking.”
Her phone buzzed just then. She glanced down, then her perfectly groomed brows lifted. “Oh,” she said softly, “would you look at that.”
Something in her voice made me look.
She turned the screen toward me, a post from a local gossip page.
“Nick Reynolds and Apple Richards spotted leaving the downtown hotel early this morning.”
The photos hit me like a physical blow.
Apple, smiling, shy, her cheeks pink like she’d just won the damn lottery. Nick beside her, jaw tight, looking exhausted, glaring at the camera.
The comments below were a feeding frenzy.
“Apple always had class. Maybe Nick realized he picked the wrong sister.”
“Guess Nick finally found the right sister.”
“Looks like someone’s keeping it in the family. #scandal”
When my mother saw me scrolling, she just sighed through her nose.
“Don’t get worked up over online nonsense. People talk. They always have.”
“Online nonsense?” My voice broke halfway through. “That’s my sister, Mom. My boyfriend. They slept together and everyone knows it!”
She sighed again. “Ashley, please. You’re not still hung up on Nick, are you? These things happen. People grow apart. Life moves on.”
“Life moves on?” I repeated, the words like acid on my tongue. “Apple is a boyfriend-stealing slut, and you’re acting like it’s nothing!”
“Language,” she snapped automatically, then softened her tone as if soothing a child. “Apple’s been through so much in the past, Ashley and she lost her friend. She’s grieving too. Maybe she just… needed comfort.”
I laughed. A sharp, humorless sound. “Comfort? From him? From the man I was supposed to marry?”
Her expression didn’t change. “You always make everything sound so dramatic. Maybe you’re just misinterpreting what you saw.”
“How can you still defend her?” I asked quietly.
“Because she’s my daughter,” she said evenly. “And so are you. I’m not taking sides.”
“The hell you’re not,” I shot back. “You’ve always taken her side. Always. Every time she screws up, you make excuses. Every time I get hurt, it’s somehow my fault. Why does she keep stealing the people I love? Why does she always have to take everything from me?”
Her gaze flickered, just for a second, like she’d been caught off guard. Then she gave that small, tired smile I’d always hated.
“You imagine things, sweetheart. You always have. Apple doesn’t steal from you. Maybe if you didn’t hold on so tightly, you wouldn’t feel so betrayed when people choose someone else.”
My stomach twisted.
People choose someone else.
That was it, wasn’t it? In her eyes, I was the one not good enough to keep anyone. Not a man, not a friend, not even her love.
I turned away, blinking hard, staring at the white wall just so I wouldn’t scream.
She stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. “You’ll understand someday,” she said softly.
She checked her watch, as if this entire scene were just another item on her schedule.
“Anyway,” she added lightly, gathering her purse and smoothing her hair in the reflection of the window, “I have a spa appointment in an hour. My back’s still in knots from the flight. But I’m glad you’re being taken care of. Try to rest, all right?”
She leaned down to kiss my forehead, but I turned my face away.
Unbothered, she smiled.
“You know I’m always here for you, sweetheart. Get well soon.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
I turned my head to the side, staring at the wall until my vision blurred with tears.
Not once did she ask why I was in the hospital.