Shattered and Free

Jenna’s Point of View

The sterile scent of antiseptic hit me first.

Then the beeping,steady, rhythmic, like a countdown back to pain.

My eyelids fluttered open. The white ceiling above me swam into view, soft and blurred. I turned my head slowly. A plastic IV line was attached to my hand, and a monitor blinked beside the bed.

I was in a hospital.

A nurse walked in moments later, a polite smile on her face. “Good morning, Miss Anderson ,You’ve been unconscious since yesterday afternoon. You passed out from exhaustion and low blood pressure. We were a little concerned, but you’re stable now.”

Unconscious. Since yesterday.

The memories rushed in—Damon, Liana, the confession, the betrayal. My body tensed, and tears pricked my eyes again.

Jessica appeared in the doorway just then, holding a paper bag and a coffee cup. She hurried over.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, pushing my hair back from my face with trembling fingers.

“I’m awake,” I murmured, my voice hoarse. “I didn’t die after all and I just heard the nurse refer to me as Miss Anderson. You did it right?”

She gave a tight smile, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Yeah I did and for the record you scared the hell out of me, Jenna.”

I reached for her hand. “Did you… tell him? He must be searching the entire town for me.”

Her eyes darkened. “No. I didn’t tell Damon. And—he didn’t ask.”

I stared at her.

Not even a call? Not even a text? He hadn’t noticed I was missing?

My chest hollowed out. I felt foolish for even wondering.

Jessica hesitated, biting her lip before speaking again. “There’s something else. Something you need to know before you do anything.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

She glanced at the nurse, then back to me. “They ran some tests while you were unconscious. That’s protocol, apparently, when someone faints like that. And the results came back.”

Her grip on my hand tightened.

“Jenna… you’re pregnant.”

I stared at her, the words tumbling around in my brain like foreign objects.

Pregnant.

Pregnant?

The room began to spin again, but I forced myself to breathe.

“No,” I whispered. “That… that can’t be. Are you sure? I mean,I can't be pregnant right? Not right now and not for Damon.” I said,my voice failing to hide the quiver.

She nodded slowly. “The doctor double-checked before I came in. You’re about six weeks along.”

My mouth went dry. Six weeks. That aligned with the last time Damon had touched me,the night he’d kissed me without emotion, without love.

Now I was carrying the child of a man who had never loved me. Who had moved on with another woman… while I was still in his home, in his bed.

Jessica watched me carefully. “Does this… change anything? The divorce?”

I didn’t answer for a long time. I stared out the hospital window as a new day bled into the sky.

Finally, I shook my head.

“No. It doesn’t change a damn thing.”

Later That Day

I stood outside the mansion, clutching a brown envelope.

Inside it were the divorce papers—signed by my lawyer, witnessed, stamped.

I wanted this chapter closed. I needed it to be.

I stepped inside. The house was quiet—deceptively peaceful. But as I walked into the kitchen, a scene slapped me across the face with brutal clarity.

Liana stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot. Her long hair was down, and she wore his shirt—one I’d folded just last week. It hung loosely around her, and yet it clung to her like it belonged.

She turned and met my eyes.

“Oh,” she said, smiling softly. “I didn’t know you were back.”

I said nothing. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

Instead, I walked past her, trying to ignore how her perfume now clung to my walls. My hands trembled around the envelope.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Damon appeared, casually dressed, his hair damp from a shower. He paused when he saw me.

“Well,” he said coolly. “Look who’s finally home.”

I raised the envelope and extended it toward him.

He cocked his head, sauntering closer. “What’s this?”

“Divorce papers,” I said, my voice flat. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

His eyes flicked to the envelope. Then, to my face.

And he laughed.

It wasn’t nervous laughter. It wasn’t awkward.

It was cruel. Satisfied.

“Finally,” he said, tearing it open. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.”

He didn’t hesitate. Not a single flicker of remorse. He signed the papers with a flourish, flipped them shut, and handed them back.

“There,” he said. “Consider yourself free, Jenna.”

I didn’t move.

I stared at him for one long moment, trying to remember the man I once loved,the man I once thought would love me back.

But he wasn’t here.

He had never really been here.

And neither had I.

I turned without a word and walked out.

The air outside was sharp and unforgiving, but it felt better than the chill that had settled in my chest.

As I reached the gate, my free hand gently brushed over my stomach.

A child.

His child.

But also… mine.

And I would not let this child grow up in a home full of lies and shadows.

I would not let my baby feel invisible the way I had. I would make sure he doesn't know he has a child, make him yearn for the love of this child if he eventually finds out.