He Ghosted Our Emergency

The day my daughter was rushed into emergency surgery after a car crash, Richard Herrera's ex, Grace Molina, came back to the country.

I called Richard ninety-nine times.

He rejected every single one.

While Chloe was dying, Richard was shopping with Grace and her son, celebrating the boy's fifth birthday.

Then the OR doors flew open. A nurse rushed out.

"Mrs. Herrera? Your daughter is crashing. Sign this consent form now. Do you know where Dr. Herrera is? He's the best at this. If he operates, Chloe has a real shot. But we can't reach him."

I covered my mouth before I fell apart. My hands shook as I signed.

On the 110th call, Richard finally picked up.

"Richard, Chloe's hurt. Only you can save her—"

A kid's voice cut through the background.

"Mr. Herrera, come on! The airplane ride won't start unless all three of us get on. Hurry!"

"Selena, I'm handling something important. The hospital has doctors. They can deal with a minor injury. I have to go."

Click.

The line went dead.

Right then, the OR light shut off.

The doctor came out, wrecked and exhausted.

He looked at me.

Then slowly shook his head.

"We're sorry. We did everything we could. Her injuries were too severe. She lost too much blood, and she got here too late, so..."

The doctor lowered his head.

"We're truly sorry."

It felt like someone had ripped my heart out. Even breathing hurt.

I sat alone in the hallway as they wheeled Chloe out. Tears streamed down my face.

She looked like she was sleeping.

The hair tie I'd bought her was still in her hair. It had been my birthday gift to her, and her favorite. She wore it every day.

"Chloe, let Mommy take you home, okay?"

I brushed a hand across her face and wiped away the tears that had fallen onto her cheeks.

Then I held her one last time.

Not long after, the hospital called a funeral home to take her away.

I went home like a ghost.

Richard didn't come back until early the next morning.

"Selena? Why are you still up? What's wrong? How's Chloe? Did the doctors take care of everything?"

He slipped off his jacket.

A strong whiff of perfume hit me.

I'd always hoped Richard would care more about Chloe. That he'd love her more.

I never wanted my daughter growing up like me—a stand-in for someone he actually wanted.

But this time, I didn't even look at him. "Nothing. There won't be any more problems."

My answer immediately set him off.

"What kind of attitude is that? Chloe's my daughter too. Am I not allowed to care about her? I was busy and couldn't get back to the hospital. Do you have to be this unreasonable?"

"Really?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

I still didn't look at him.

Chloe was supposed to take the school bus home after class.

But I'd told her her dad would be home that night.

She'd been so excited.

She wanted to surprise him, so she went alone to a store near school to buy his favorite chocolates.

She never saw the runaway pickup truck coming.

I hated myself.

If I hadn't told her, none of this would've happened.

While I was desperately calling Richard, he was at the airport picking up Grace.

No matter how many times I called.

No matter how terrified I was.

He never answered.

While Chloe was on the operating table, Richard was celebrating Grace's son's birthday.

That night, Grace posted a photo on Instagram.

The picture showed the three of them smiling together.

The caption read:

[After all this time, you're still the one who makes me happiest.]

I stared at the photo. At their perfect little family.

And suddenly, it all felt ridiculous.

Richard and I had been married for seven years.

Chloe was five.

Not once had he celebrated her birthday.

Every year, there was an excuse.

Work.

An emergency.

Something important.

I always believed him.

Now I realized I'd only been lying to myself.

To Richard, Chloe and I had never mattered.

Not even Chloe's life was worth more than one birthday party for Grace's son.

***

The next few days were a blur of funeral arrangements.

I went back and forth between home and the funeral home.

Richard never came back.

Instead, he stayed with Grace. Helping her find a job. Finding a kindergarten for her son. The same one Chloe used to attend.

He even packed lunches for them every day.

After seven years of marriage, I never knew Richard could cook.

Finally, everything for Chloe's funeral was ready.

I notified our relatives and friends.

Looking at Chloe's smiling photo, my chest tightened.

She'd loved her dad more than anyone.

I thought she'd want him there to say goodbye.

So I called Richard.

This time, he picked up right away.

His voice was impatient. "What now? Don't you know I'm working?"

"Chloe's funeral is next month. Don't forget to come."