Valentine's Day, But Make It Trauma

Valentine's Day was supposed to be the day Adrian Weldon proposed.

The night before, he texted me, saying he wanted to give me the proposal I deserved.

[Summer, you and our baby deserve a real family.]

I held my phone and grinned like an idiot forever. I even picked out a loose white dress to hide my five-month bump.

I thought it would be the happiest day of my life.

Instead, I got to the mountain and learned the truth.

There was no proposal.

It was the soft opening for Celeste Vane's new campground.

Adrian's big surprise was dragging me there while I was five months pregnant to help hype her grand opening.

That night at dinner, Celeste brought out a pot of mushroom soup.

She smiled sweetly. "Summer, I asked around. The women here all swear this is good for pregnant women."

I hated mushrooms.

Adrian sat beside me and filled my bowl. "Celeste spent all afternoon making it. Don't ruin the mood."

So I ate it.

Before I even got halfway through, my stomach caught fire.

I ran to the bathroom and puked until my throat bled. A rash spread fast across my face.

The next day, my beauty product launch got canceled.

The brand's legal notice came in, and Jenna was shaking with rage.

"She fed a pregnant woman wild mushrooms that weren't even prepared right. She could've killed you!"

Jenna, my manager, posted a public warning for me.

That night, Adrian stormed into my hospital room.

He didn't ask if I was okay.

Didn't ask about the baby.

He just threw his phone onto my blanket.

"Happy now, Summer Shafer? Celeste had to shut down because everyone turned on her. Is that what you wanted?"

My voice came out thin. "She served me contaminated food."

Adrian gave this cold little laugh. "Food at places like this can be risky. Why are you making it such a huge deal? Celeste just got divorced. She's trying to rebuild her life. Why are you so set on ruining her?"

I stared at him like he was a stranger.

We'd been together seven years. He knew my face was my career.

And ever since I got pregnant, my health had been a mess.

I'd spent six months getting ready for that launch.

But all he cared about was Celeste getting dragged online.

***

On Valentine's Day, Adrian demanded I apologize to Celeste.

I said no.

So he picked me up and shoved me into the car.

Pain sliced through my lower stomach.

I begged him to slow down.

He didn't.

When he stopped halfway up the mountain, my blood went cold.

"Adrian, what are you doing?"

He got out, came around to my side, and opened the door.

Then he took my purse.

My phone.

"You think Celeste hurt you? Fine. Walk over there and apologize to her face."

I stared at him. "I'm five months pregnant."

Not even a flicker.

"That's why I didn't leave you farther away. Summer, you never used to be like this. When did you get so cruel?"

Then he slammed the door.

Seconds later, his taillights vanished down the mountain road.

The storm came out of nowhere, turning the dirt road into a river of mud.

One hand over my belly, I dragged myself forward.

The first time I fell, my knee smashed into a rock.

Then I went down twice more.

My fingers clawed through the mud, nails ripping back.

Blood from the cuts on my legs soaked through my pants.

Face-down in the rain, I screamed Adrian's name.

Nothing answered.

A park ranger found me later.

By the time they lifted me onto the stretcher, I was barely conscious.

In the ambulance, he contacted Jenna for me.

He'd also found my phone in a roadside ditch.

The screen was shattered, but it still turned on.

Voice message after voice message from Adrian popped up.

Jenna tapped one, and his voice filled the ambulance.

"Ignore her. She's faking. Her belly's already showing, so she can't keep threatening to dump me. Let Valentine's Day teach her a lesson. Maybe then she'll stop thinking she can walk all over Celeste."

The ambulance went dead silent.

The ranger cursed under his breath.

Jenna's eyes went red. "Summer..."

I didn't cry.

I just reached over and shut off the recording.

***

At the hospital, the doctor frowned.

"Ms. Shafer, your baby isn't doing well."

He slid the test results across the desk.

The page was packed with medical terms.

But I only saw the last line.

[Recommendation: Terminate the pregnancy.]

My chest locked up.

A deep ache dragged through my lower stomach, like something blunt carving into me over and over.

"What if I don't?"

The doctor went quiet for a few seconds. "The baby's heart rate is still abnormal, and there are signs of distress.

"You've been through food poisoning, a severe allergic reaction, hypothermia, and multiple falls. That triggered ongoing contractions. Worse, the exam shows a risk of placental abruption.

"If we continue the pregnancy, you could lose the baby—and suffer a massive hemorrhage."

I looked down at the IV mark on the back of my hand.

Then I looked at the doctor.

"Give me the consent form."

The doctor froze.

I said it slowly. Clearly.

"I don't want this baby anymore."

My hand shook so hard, I could barely hold the pen.

The tip ripped through the paper—

just like it ripped through the love I'd clung to for seven years.

When I finished, I called my lawyer.

"Mr. Carter, start foreclosure on the apartment."

A beat of silence.

"Ms. Shafer, are you sure?"

I closed my eyes.

"I'm sure."

The apartment we were supposed to live in after the wedding was in Adrian's name.

But the down payment came from the money my parents left after they died in a car crash.

And when his startup started sinking, I loaned him $800,000.

He signed the agreement himself and put the apartment up as collateral.

He said it would make me feel safe.

I believed him.

Now, that security was doing exactly what it was meant to do.

"Start foreclosure. I want it done ASAP."