Chapter 9 - The Third Goodbye
“Sophie.”
She walked past me.
Straight toward her mother.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell him.”
Margaret stood.
“Honey.”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re carrying this alone again.”
Sophie laughed bitterly.
“That is my decision.”
“No.”
Margaret’s voice became firm.
“Choosing privacy is your decision.”
She pointed toward me.
“Punishing yourself isn’t.”
Sophie turned away.
I had no idea what to say.
A third pregnancy.
Possibly.
A third loss.
Possibly.
The uncertainty was almost crueler than confirmation.
I stepped toward Sophie.
“Tell me what happened.”
She shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
Her eyes filled.
She sat at the kitchen table.
For several seconds, she stared at her hands.
Then spoke.
“The night you asked for the divorce, I was nine days late.”
I sat across from her.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked up sharply.
“What was I supposed to say?”
Her voice broke.
“Wait, Ethan, before you leave, maybe I’m pregnant again?”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because what if you stayed?”
I stared.
“What?”
“What if I told you and you stayed because of a baby?”
“I would have—”
“You don’t know.”
She stood.
“And neither did I.”
Tears ran down her face.
“I could survive you leaving.”
Her voice trembled.
“I could not survive spending the rest of my life wondering whether you only stayed because I was pregnant.”
I had never considered that.
Sophie continued.
“So I bought a test.”
“When?”
“The next morning.”
My hands tightened.
“And?”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Why?”
“I threw it away.”
She laughed through tears.
“Then I bought another one.”
I closed my eyes.
“I carried it in my purse for four days.”
“What happened?”
“I started spotting.”
My stomach dropped.
“Before the divorce hearing?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go to a doctor?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“After the papers were signed.”
I stared.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Her face changed.
“I did.”
Four calls.
The voicemails.
Everything connected.
“The blood test showed hCG.”
She whispered.
“How high?”
“Low.”
“Meaning?”
“The doctor said it could be a very early pregnancy or levels falling after a loss.”
I looked at Margaret.
She wiped tears from her face.
Sophie continued.
“Two days later, the number dropped.”
I closed my eyes.
There had been a third baby.
Maybe only for a few weeks.
Maybe only long enough to change a blood test.
But to Sophie, it had been real.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you saw me at the hospital?”
“I was trying to tell you about cancer.”
Her voice hardened.
“It seemed like enough.”
I looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ethan.”
I looked at her.
“You did not cause the miscarriage.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question mirrored the one I had asked her.
I almost laughed at the cruelty of symmetry.
“I don’t know.”
There it was.
Sophie sat again.
For a while, none of us spoke.
Margaret eventually left to take a walk.
She understood this belonged to Sophie and me.
I looked at the table.
“Did you name that one?”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know if there was really a baby.”
I swallowed.
“You thought there was.”
“Yes.”
“Then name them.”
She stared.
“What?”
“If you want to.”
Her face crumpled.
“I don’t know what name.”
“Neither did we with the others.”
Sophie covered her mouth.
I moved closer.
“Boy or girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Something neutral.”
She thought.
Then whispered,
“Jamie.”
My heart broke.
“Jamie Parker.”
She nodded.
We cried.
Again.
Three children.
Benjamin.
Caleb.
Jamie.
None had taken a first breath.
All had changed our lives.
Later that evening, we drove to the house.
Sophie carried the wooden box.
Inside the nursery, she placed a third folded paper beside the other two.
JAMIE PARKER.
We sat on the floor.
Sophie rested against me.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
She whispered.
“I know.”
“I hated you for doing the same thing.”
“I know.”
“Maybe we’re both idiots.”
“That is the strongest medical diagnosis we’ve received.”
She laughed.
Then hit my shoulder.
I smiled.
She remained against me.
After a while, she said,
“I don’t want them to be the reason we get back together.”
“They won’t be.”
“I don’t want cancer to be the reason either.”
“It won’t.”
“What is the reason?”
I looked at her.
“The reason has to be us.”
She stared.
“And if us isn’t enough?”
“Then we don’t.”
That answer surprised her.
“You’d accept that?”
“No.”
I smiled sadly.
“But I’d respect it.”
Her eyes filled.
“You really are changing.”
“I hate it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No.”
I looked toward the names.
“I don’t.”
The next chemotherapy cycle hit Sophie hard.
She developed severe fatigue.
Her appetite vanished.
She lost more weight.
Margaret stayed.
Luke came every day.
I reduced my workload under General Hale’s orders.
For once, I didn’t fight him.
Then something unexpected happened.
Daniel Reese became Sophie’s favorite visitor.
Mostly because he treated cancer like an inconvenience rather than a tragedy.
He brought ridiculous gifts.
A plastic crown labeled QUEEN OF CHEMO.
A mug that said MY ONCOLOGIST IS HOTTER THAN YOURS.
Dr. Chen confiscated that one.
Sophie laughed more when Daniel was around.
I was grateful.
Weeks passed.
Then came the final scheduled chemotherapy cycle.
Sophie rang the bell in the infusion center.
Patients applauded.
Nurses cheered.
Margaret cried.
Luke recorded everything.
Daniel yelled,
“Parker family undefeated!”
Sophie looked at me.
“Not Parker.”
She whispered.
I froze.
She saw my face.
“Legally.”
“Right.”
Her eyes softened.
Then she said,
“Maybe someday.”
My heart stopped.
Before I could respond, Dr. Chen approached.
“There’s one more thing.”
Sophie groaned.
“Can’t I have five minutes?”
Dr. Chen smiled.
“I think you’ll want to hear this.”
We followed her.
The scan was scheduled for two weeks later.
The final scan.
The one that would determine whether Sophie was in remission.
For fourteen days, we waited.
On the morning of the scan, Sophie wore the Fort Carson shirt.
My shirt.
She squeezed my hand.
“Whatever happens.”
She said.
“We deal with it.”
“Together?”
She looked at me.
“Together.”
The word almost stopped my heart.
Hours later, Dr. Chen entered the consultation room.
She sat.
That scared me.
Then she smiled.
“There is no evidence of active disease.”
Sophie froze.
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Dr. Chen’s smile grew.
“The scan is clear.”
Sophie covered her face.
I stood without realizing it.
She looked at me.
Then launched herself into my arms.
I held her.
She was laughing.
Crying.
Shaking.
“Clear.”
She kept saying.
“Clear.”
I kissed the top of her head.
Margaret screamed when we called.
Luke cried and denied crying.
Daniel announced that cancer had surrendered due to administrative pressure.
For one night, we celebrated.
The next morning, Sophie and I returned to the old house.
We sat in the Morning Mist room.
No hospital bracelets.
No IV poles.
No doctors.
Just us.
Sophie looked at me.
“I’m in remission.”
“Yes.”
“I thought I’d feel different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She smiled.
“Bigger.”
“You look exactly the same size.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Idiot.”
I laughed.
Then she became serious.
“Ethan.”
“Yes?”
“What happens now?”
I knew she wasn’t asking about cancer.
I looked at her.
“Now we find out whether we can love each other when nobody is dying.”
Her eyes filled.
“That sounds harder.”
“It probably is.”
She laughed softly.
Then leaned toward me.
For the first time since our divorce, Sophie kissed me.
It was gentle.
Uncertain.
Nothing like the kisses from our marriage.
This was a question.
I answered carefully.
When we separated, both of us were crying.
Sophie rested her forehead against mine.
“I’m scared.”
“So am I.”
“What if we ruin it again?”
“We might.”
She pulled back.
“That is a terrible answer.”
“It’s an honest one.”
She smiled.
Then my phone rang.
General Hale.
I almost ignored it.
Sophie saw the screen.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Parker.”
Hale’s voice was serious.
“I need you at headquarters.”
“When?”
“Now.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
There was a pause.
Then he said,
“We received your deployment orders.”
I looked at Sophie.
Her smile disappeared.
And just like that, the past stood in front of us again.
The same choice.
The same uniform.
May you like
The same fear.
Only this time, I knew exactly what walking away could cost.
