Love Like Snow on Fingertips
After five years of IVF and seven months of pregnancy, Lucy went into premature labor. She was hemorrhaging, her life hanging by a thread.
The husband who had always professed to love her to the bone was nowhere to be found. Neither was the college girl he had kept on standby as her emergency blood donor.
She wanted to scream his name, to demand an answer, but another contraction seized her—a tearing agony that threatened to split her body apart.
"Ryan... Where's Ryan?"
Watching her sister's face blanch with pain, Amy wept as she dialled her brother-in-law’s number thirty-two times. Each call was met only by the desperate, endless tone of a busy signal.
"The mother has a rare blood type! We're running out!"
"Her blood pressure's still dropping!"
"Didn't Mr. Ryan arrange a backup donor? Where is she?!"
Faced with the doctor's furious shouts, Amy trembled, tears streaming down her face. "My brother-in-law's phone... it's switched off."
Before she could say more, another violent contraction twisted Lucy's abdomen.
Before her consciousness faded, Lucy cast one last glance toward the operating room door.
Ryan still hadn't come.
She didn't know how much time had passed when she finally woke in the hospital bed.
Her hand moved to her flat, empty stomach, and a wave of crushing dread and grief washed over her.
"The baby..."
Struggling to sit up, she searched for her child, but saw only her red-eyed sister.
"Lucy... I thought you'd never wake up..."
"The baby... where's my baby?!" Her voice was a frail thread as she clutched Amy's sleeve, tears brimming.
"The doctors said they couldn't save her... It was too dangerous. If they hadn't performed the C-section, you wouldn't have made it..."
"Where's Ryan?"
Amy's expression darkened. "I've been here for three days and nights. He hasn't come."
Her sister's words made Lucy's world spin. The heartache hit like a physical blow, threatening to drag her back into the darkness.
Her precious baby, nurtured for seven months and filled with so many hopes and dreams, had never even opened her eyes to see this world.
This was the child Ryan had longed for day and night. Yet now, as the father, he hadn't bothered to see them even once.
Gasping for air, Lucy dialled Ryan's number again.
This time, his assistant answered.
"Where is Ryan?"
Faced with her demand, the assistant hesitated. "Mr. Ryan... is busy."
The man's evasive tone sent a chill straight through Lucy's heart.
"Tell Ryan to come to the hospital. Now."
Wiping her tears, she hung up with a sharp click.
With Amy's support, Lucy finally went to the morgue to see that tiny, cold form.
Her baby, the one she couldn't protect. A little girl. Lucy bent, breathing warm air onto the child's icy little hand.
"Sweetheart, Mommy's taking you home."
Cradling her daughter, Lucy walked with purpose to a specific address—the apartment where Ryan kept the college girl, Ruth.
She wanted Ryan to see their child one last time.
But as she reached the door, she saw him through the gap, soothing a sobbing girl in his arms, his voice gentle as water.
"Shh, it's alright. Don't cry."
"If you're scared, we won't go. Okay?"
Tears streaked Ruth's face, her eyes red-rimmed. "I wanted to go... I was just too afraid..."
"Be good, Ruth. Don't be scared. We just won't go."
Lucy stood outside the door. It felt like a thousand blades were being driven into her heart, the pain so sharp she could barely breathe.
While she had been balanced between life and death, the man she loved was here, comforting another, younger girl.
The Ryan who had once risked his life for her had finally changed.
He had, after all, risked his life for her three times.
At eighteen, he had shielded her in earthquake rubble for three days and nights, giving her the chance to be rescued first while he nearly died.
At twenty-one, he had charged alone into a kidnapper's den for her, taking three bullets. The last one had missed his heart by a single millimetre; he'd fought for his life in the hospital for seven days and nights.
At twenty-five, when everyone opposed their marriage, Ryan had willingly endured his family's punishment—five broken ribs—just to force them all to accept Lucy.
After their wedding, Lucy had basked in that hard-won happiness. So when Ryan said he wanted a child, despite her extreme difficulty conceiving, she pushed her body to its limits. Countless rounds of IVF later, she finally became pregnant.
Once she was pregnant, he became even more devoted. Not only that, Ryan had found a college girl with Lucy's rare blood type and installed her in an apartment, a ready supply of emergency blood for when Lucy gave birth.
Lucy had questioned it once, but his smile had dispelled her doubts.
"Even with a baby on the way, you're still my little jealous one?"
"Don't overthink it. She's just insurance, for your safety. I want you and our baby to come through this safely."
Lucy had believed him.
And so her child had died.
Lucy
“Ryan, is *this* what you have for me?”
Holding up her phone, she let the ultrasound image glow on the screen. Ryan clearly hadn’t expected Ruth to flaunt it in Lucy’s face. His face fell, a portrait of pure awkwardness.
“Lucy, calm down. Don’t touch her.”
“We… we drank too much that night. It was an accident.” He sighed helplessly as Lucy’s face paled further. “I told her to get rid of it, but she absolutely refused.”
“Losing our baby… it pains me, too. But look at it this way—when this child is born, you’ll be its mother.”
“What’s more, my family desperately needs an heir. Lucy, please… be gracious. Do this for me, all right?”
“Ryan, our child is *dead*. She was so small… only seven months.”
“How dare you—”
Tears blurred her vision. The air inside the car grew thick and stifling, the rest of her words choking in her throat, too vile to speak.
“The baby’s buried. What’s the point of dwelling on it now?” Ryan’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Are you going to mourn for the rest of your life?”
Listening to him, Lucy’s heart felt like a candle guttering out on its last inch of wick—the flame dying slowly, steadily.
He was right. What *was* the point?
The car soon pulled into the estate. They entered the house one after the other, each weighed down by private thoughts.
Ryan noticed Ruth’s absence immediately. Strange.
Since Lucy became pregnant, they had slept separately.
She walked to her own bedroom and opened the door—only to find Ruth inside, mopping the floor.
The girl looked like she’d been at it for hours. Sweat beaded her forehead; her face was flushed.
Seeing Lucy, she quickly put on a fawning expression, her voice meek. “Madam, I’ve finished cleaning your room.”
The sight pierced Ryan’s heart. He pushed past Lucy and pulled Ruth into his arms.
“I told you not to do heavy work while pregnant! Why won’t you listen?”
“Lucy, what is the meaning of this?”
Lucy shook her head frantically. “I never asked her to… I’ve barely even seen her!”
Ruth swayed weakly against him. “Ryan, don’t ask… I’m fine…”
“Silly girl, you’re carrying a child. Tell me who bullied you. I’ll make it right.”
She didn’t speak, only buried her face in his chest and wept—the very picture of pitiful vulnerability.
“Lucy, didn’t I tell you not to bully her?!” he roared, anger blazing. “She’s pregnant too. How can you be so cruel?”
Lucy had no defense. Even through her disappointment, the unfairness brought fresh tears. “What are you saying? You don’t believe me?”
“Ruth is pregnant. Why would she lie about something like this?”
Then, lowering his voice, he spoke softly to the girl in his arms. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. What do you want?”
“Sister Lucy has… a protection charm. It’s very pretty. I’d like one for our baby, too…”
“Lucy, consider it an apology. Go and get that charm for her. Personally.”
Lucy stood rooted to the spot, Ryan’s voice seeming to come from somewhere far away.
Seeing her immobile, his face darkened. “If you don’t apologize, I’ll blacklist Amy from every opportunity in this industry.”
Remembering her sister’s smile, Lucy finally relented.
“I’ll go.”
She hadn’t missed the triumphant glint in Ruth’s eyes. She was just… tired.
Two thousand steps, each one climbed in the driving rain, pouring salt on the wound of her already difficult recovery.
She finally obtained the so-called protection charm. Soaked to the bone, she presented it to Ruth herself. The girl glanced at it and tossed it aside. “Ryan, that thing looks dirty. I don’t want it anymore.”
The last thing Lucy heard before darkness swallowed her was Ryan’s voice:
“Then don’t have it. As long as you stop crying, sweetheart.”
