The first thing that reached me was the sound.
A steady, rhythmic beeping. Too slow to be comforting. Too constant to ignore.
My eyelids fluttered open against a wash of blinding white light. My mouth felt dry, my throat burning, and my body was so heavy it was as if my strength had been siphoned out bone by bone. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.
Voices filtered through the haze.
“…there was no alternative,” a man said calmly—measured, detached, the way doctors always sounded. “The woman survived. The fetus did not.”
My chest seized.
Fetus?
Woman?
A baby?
“What did you say?” Victor’s voice exploded nearby, loud enough to make my heart jolt painfully. For one fragile, foolish second, warmth bloomed in my chest. Was he upset because I was hurt? Was he scared for me?
Then he spoke again.
“You should’ve let her die instead!” His words came sharp, furious. “What good is she without the child? I needed that baby! Not her! Why didn’t you ask me who mattered more?”
Everything inside me froze.
Did he really just say that?
The doctor’s tone hardened. “Mr. Victor, it was medically impossible to save both patients. The mother’s survival was the only feasible outcome. The pregnancy was only at six months. The fetus could not have lived outside the womb.”
There was the rustle of paperwork, followed by a weary sigh. “It’s also likely she had no idea she was pregnant. Given her condition—a retroverted uterus combined with polycystic ovary syndrome—successful pregnancies are uncommon. Irregular cycles are typical with PCOS. Symptoms are often mistaken for other issues. Minimal weight gain, delayed physical changes… it wouldn’t have been obvious.”
Six months.
I had carried a child inside me for half a year—unknowing, unaware—and now that life was gone.
And Victor… Victor wished I had died with it.
Another presence entered the room. I recognized Adrian immediately.
“So she lived,” he said flatly. “And the baby didn’t. Typical.”
Leo scoffed under his breath. “She messes everything up. If she weren’t so careless, none of this would’ve happened. And honestly—why was she even wandering around in a wedding dress?”
Their voices pressed down on me, suffocating. I wanted to scream. To open my eyes. To tell them to stop.
But my body betrayed me.
Darkness dragged me under again.
Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe it was just a nightmare stitched together by pain and trauma.
I woke again later, the room eerily quiet. A nurse stood beside me, adjusting the drip attached to my arm.
“Oh,” she said gently when she noticed my eyes open. “You’re awake.”
My lips barely moved. “What… happened?”
“You were in a vehicular accident,” she explained softly. “A truck hit you. You’ve been unconscious for two days.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “I’m very sorry. You lost the pregnancy.”
Tears slipped down the sides of my face before I could stop them.
A baby.
My baby.
Gone.
My hand trembled as it moved to my stomach. It felt empty. Hollow. Like something vital had been carved out of me.
“My husband…” I whispered, clinging to the thinnest shred of hope. “Has Victor been here?”
The nurse didn’t answer right away.
Then she shook her head slowly. “No. No one has visited since you were admitted.”
That silence hurt more than the crash ever could.
When she left, my gaze drifted to the small table beside the bed. My phone lay there, dark and untouched. My fingers shook as I reached for it, hope fluttering weakly in my chest.
Nothing.
No missed calls.
No messages.
Not from Victor.
Not from Adrian.
Not from Leo.
Swallowing hard, I dialed Victor’s number myself.
It rang. Then connected.
At first, there was only faint noise. Movement. Breathing.
Then—
A woman’s voice. Soft. Breathless.
“Victor… don’t stop…”
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
Then laughter followed. Familiar. Cruel.
Marcella.
I ended the call with trembling fingers, my chest heaving as tears spilled freely onto the sheets.
Seconds later, my phone vibrated again.
A message.
I opened it—and nausea rose instantly.
Photos filled the screen.
Victor holding Marcella’s hand. Victor kissing her. Victor smiling at her like he never once smiled at me. One photo showed him sliding a ring onto her finger as champagne glasses clinked in celebration.
Below it was a message, sharp and deliberate.
Sorry, sis. We’re on our honeymoon. Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of Victor. I’m back for good.
The cruelty was unmistakable. As if she were right there beside my bed, whispering it into my ear.
My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull sound. I covered my face and cried until my chest ached, until no sound came out anymore.
This wasn’t just betrayal.
It was annihilation.
My husband.
My brothers.
My sister.
All standing on the same side—against me.
I lay there for hours, staring blankly at the ceiling, feeling stripped of everything. But somewhere between the grief and the emptiness, something hardened.
Resolve.
If Victor believed he could throw me away like I never mattered… if Marcella thought she could return and steal what little was left of my life—
They were wrong.
I wouldn’t beg anymore.
I picked up my phone again and scrolled through my contacts. My thumb stopped over a name I hadn’t allowed myself to think about in years.
Dominic.
The man who once loved me honestly.
The man I rejected for empty promises and false devotion.
The man I should have chosen.
My breath shook as I pressed call.
One ring.
Two.
“Hello?” His voice came through, steady and warm, laced with surprise.
My throat tightened. “Dominic… it’s Valeria.”
Silence followed. Then a sharp inhale. “Valeria? After all this time… why are you calling now?”
I closed my eyes, letting the last of my pride fall away. “Tell me something,” I said quietly. “If I asked you today… would you still want to marry me?”
