The Second Marriage Chance

Sarah

Darkness enveloped me-a certainty in the chaos. My heart wailed with an anguish so profound it pierced my very soul. What sin had I committed to deserve this torment?

I dared to turn away from my marriage with Philip, but never did I envision the depths of his cruelty, stripping me of everything I held dear.

For my heart bled so profusely that sensation eluded me, I was numb to the cascade of tears, leaving only the haunting embrace of grief.

“Sarah! Sarah!” It’s as though Amir was right before my eyes, within the stark confines of the hospital ward. Every fiber of my being ached to reach out to him, to envelop myself in his embrace, and to release the weight of my sorrow upon his shoulders.

But my voice remains trapped, shackled by an invisible force. A silent plea resonates within me, urging the release of the pent-up emotions to share them with Amir. Yet, I am gripped by a suffocating weakness.

“What have you done to her?!” Amir’s voice reverberates through the room, punctuated by the violent expulsion of objects in his fury.

The chaos within the hospital ward assaults my senses, yet I am strangely detached, an observer in my own body. I stare vacantly at Amir as though trapped within the confines of a dream.

“M-Mr. Benner,” the man in the white coat began, “she’s been in a daze for three days now. She was sent here from the OB-GYN department.” He paused briefly before continuing, “According to Dr. Smith’s assessment, her baby didn’t exhibit a heartbeat in the womb, prompting swift action from the hospital.” It was evident that he was a doctor in this room.

No, that’s a lie! They took away my child! I wanted to scream the truth, but I lacked the strength. My voice remained trapped within me, lost in the haze of my mind while my body lay motionless in the hospital bed.

“Where the hell is her husband?” Amir’s voice was laced with anger.

“We… we don’t know,” the doctor stammered. “Mrs. Cornell visited the patient on the first day, but no family member has been here since.”Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“Boss, I have news for you!” Rey, Amir’s secretary, interjected. “I got word that Mr. Philip Cornell went to Monaco to join a car racing event. He’s been in Europe for three days.”

Can you believe that? While I grieve the loss of our child, Philip had the audacity to jet off and participate in a car racing event.

“Sarah!” Amir’s grasp tightened around mine, a silent affirmation of his unwavering support in that agonizing moment.

My brother’s voice trembled as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’ll take you home now! I won’t allow you to continue like this,” he said.

Under the shroud of night, Amir took me out of the hospital and straight onto a private plane. Wherever he’s taking me, I don’t know.

At present, my sole desire is to grieve the death of my baby. I yearn to pray for his soul’s peace, to extend my apologies that his father callously denied him existence solely because Philip harbored disdain for me. The duration of my mourning remains uncertain, yet I solemnly vow to emerge from this abyss of anguish resilient and renewed.

***

Amir brought me to Dubai; of that, I am certain. The familiarity of Grandpa Mitchell’s mansion greeted me, a place I hadn’t set foot in for three years.

Our journey halted as the van pulled up to the grand entrance, where my grandfather, noticeably thinner since our last encounter, stepped out with a frown etched upon his face.

“Why is that woman here?!” he bellowed, directing his anger at Amir.

“Grandpa, please,” my brother interjected, his voice filled with empathy. “Sarah lost her baby. She’s been lost in grief for days.”

Though my grandfather huffed in response, a glimmer of concern flickered in his eyes. “After three years of absence, she returns as if nothing happened, neglecting an old man like me?”

Amir faltered, struggling to find the right words to appease him.

I understood my grandfather’s frustration all too well. My actions, driven by a longing for Philip’s affection, had caused me to turn my back on him-a pain I knew I couldn’t erase with mere words. Though I yearned to reach out, to mend what I had broken, grief held me captive, rendering me motionless.

“Take her to her room!” Grandpa Mitchell commanded before turning away.

Amir crouched in front of me, assuming a posture reminiscent of a guardian looking after a child in need of guidance. “Grandpa Mitchell still holds love for you, you know. Despite his stubbornness, I’m certain he forgave you long ago.”

His fingers gently threaded through my hair before he directed the helper to escort me inside the mansion.

As we stepped into the room, I once called mine, a wave of nostalgia crashed over me like a tidal wave. The air hung heavy with the intoxicating perfume of flowers, their scent weaving through the room like a ghost from my past. The bedroom sprawled across a spacious 100 square meters, accompanied by an adjoining wardrobe.

“Miss Sarah!” Amanda’s embrace enveloped me as she rushed forward. She was one of the two personal maids dedicated to my care in Grandpa Mitchell’s mansion. Her age appeared to be fifty or beyond, marked by the wisdom etched on her features. She scrutinized my weathered skin and calloused hands, evidence of the labor I had endured over the past three years. “Sir Amir, what had happened to Miss Sarah?”

“She suffered a miscarriage and is going through a divorce,” Amir responded somberly.

Amanda’s sobs reverberated in the room; disbelief evident in her tear-filled eyes. Despite her emotional turmoil, she proceeded to bathe me, dress me, and carefully comb my hair. Throughout the process, I remained emotionally detached, unable to find the energy to respond to any inquiries.

40 days… That’s the pathetic duration I’ve foolishly allotted to wallow in grief over the loss of my baby. Then, perhaps, I’ll attempt to claw my way out of the abyss where my soul has been mercilessly cast.

***

“Sarah, what’s wrong with you? You’ve been like this for two weeks now!” Amir’s frustration seethed through his words as he confronted my silence, my demeanor, and my vacant gaze fixated beyond the room’s confines. I could sense both his and Grandpa Mitchell’s concern for me.

“Sir, I’m acutely aware of my position as nothing more than a lowly maid in this grand mansion, but I feel compelled to clarify Miss Sarah’s situation.”

All eyes turned towards Amanda as if she held the key to unlock the mysteries of my troubled soul.

“I may not be an expert in navigating mental struggles, but having cared for Miss Sarah for quite some time and being a woman myself, I can recognize that she’s grieving the loss of her baby. Let’s allow her the necessary time, as the pain of losing a child is deeply painful. I have faith in Miss Sarah’s resilience; I believe she will find her strength again. At this moment, the tragedy is still too fresh, making it incredibly challenging to come to terms with such a profound loss.”

I couldn’t suppress it any longer; tears streamed down my face, each droplet a painful reminder of my anguish. My chest constricted as if being slowly crushed, finding solace only in the realization that someone finally comprehended my pain.

Gasps filled the room as I allowed myself to show expression for the first time.

“Sarah!” Amir’s voice rang out, tinged with his emotional turmoil. His fist clenched tightly as he fought back the tears. “We’re here to support you, alright?”

I nodded, unable to find words amidst the overwhelming swell of emotions.

Amanda ran her fingers through my hair, and I wrapped my arms around her waist. I wasn’t happy, but it felt good to have someone understand how I felt.

***

Thirty days have passed since I began my journey toward healing. With Amanda’s unwavering support and the assistance of another maid, I’m successfully maneuvering through the mansion, rediscovering the comforting familiarity of my surroundings.

Gradually, I’m managing to respond to a few basic inquiries. Yet, simmering beneath the surface of my progress is a seething rage directed at Philip. He violated me in every aspect-as a spouse, as a woman, and as a mother!

Strolling through the garden, the last thing I anticipated was encountering Amir and his girlfriend, Jessica Woods, seated at a garden table.

The aura emanating from this woman practically shrieked trouble. Despite the warning signs, I dared to approach, curious to discern whether she was worthy of my brother’s affection.

If she’s no longer the bitch she was.