The Boy Who Tattooed My Name on His Chest novel Chapter 49

He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.

Even as I pounded my fists weakly against his chest, he didn't let go.

"Clara, don't be childish."

His arms tightened around me as if he were comforting the version of me who used to lash out in frustration.

"It's just a microphone, Clara."

Marcus, you say it so lightly.

But to me, this microphone is so much more.

You don't understand.

My sobs grew hoarse, my body feverish, hands trembling, sweat dampening my palms. A sharp, unbearable pain shot through my lower abdomen, and I clutched at him instinctively.

"It hurts… it hurts so much…"

Everything blurred.

I barely heard Marcus's voice trembling as he called my name over and over.

"Clara, Clara… What's wrong? Don't scare me, Clara…"

Everything felt so unreal.

When I woke up in the hospital, Marcus was nowhere to be seen.

Of course not. He was probably by Anna's side—she was always the priority.

Rosalie, a college student I had met while working as a lounge singer, came rushing in when she heard I had collapsed.

She insisted I get a full check-up, refusing to leave until I agreed.

"Clara, no man is worth more than your life."

For someone so young, she spoke as if she had already seen through the world.

She was right.

So I listened to her.

As expected, I was pregnant.

The doctor warned me to control my emotions, or I might have a miscarriage.

I placed a hand over my still-flat stomach, feeling an odd sense of regret.

If Anna had never returned, would the ending have been different?

Just days before our wedding, Marcus had leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Clara, I want a child."

I had blushed and lightly punched his chest. "Who wants to have your child?"

And yet, I was pregnant.

Only, this child would never get the chance to see the world.

The next day, Anna showed up at my hospital room.