Chapter Four: My Losses

Celyne POV

The blood wouldn’t stop.

By the time I reached the hospital, my vision had already begun to blur. Nurses rushed toward me the moment they saw the state I was in. Their voices overlapped as they guided me onto a stretcher.

“Get the doctor.”

“She’s losing a lot of blood.”

“How far along is the pregnancy?”

My fingers trembled as I clutched the edge of the sheet.

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered weakly.

Everything felt distant after that.

The bright hospital lights above me streaked into white lines as they wheeled me down the corridor. Somewhere in the haze of panic, I remember hearing Alexander’s voice.

Sharp. Urgent.

“Celyne!”

His hand gripped mine tightly.

“I’m here,” he said.

But fear had already swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, the room was silent.

A steady beeping from the monitor filled the air.

For a moment, I didn’t remember why I was there. Then my hand moved instinctively to my stomach.

Flat.

Empty.

The door opened quietly and the doctor stepped in, his expression careful.

Alexander stood beside the window, his back rigid.

The doctor sighed softly.

“I’m very sorry,” he said.

Two words.

But they shattered everything.

“You had a miscarriage.”

My throat tightened painfully.

“No,” I whispered.

The doctor continued gently.

“These things happen sometimes. It doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a long-term problem. You can still try again.”

His words felt like they were spoken underwater.

Alexander didn’t say anything.

He just stared at the floor.

And in that moment, something fragile inside my chest cracked.

The days after that blurred together.

Alexander tried to be strong for me.

He stayed home from work.

Held me at night when I cried.

Told me over and over that we would try again.

“It’s not your fault,” he kept saying.

I wanted to believe him.

I really did.

And eventually… life began to move forward again.

Months later, when I saw those two pink lines on another pregnancy test, my hands trembled all over again.

This time, the happiness was quieter.

More careful.

Alexander lifted me into his arms when I told him.

“We’re going to be parents,” he whispered.

But this time we didn’t celebrate loudly.

We were afraid to hope too much.

I followed every instruction the doctors gave.

Rested more.

Ate healthier.

Took every vitamin.

Alexander hovered around me like a protective shadow.

For weeks, everything seemed fine.

Until one morning.

Exactly one month later.

The cramps returned.

And once again…

There was blood.

The second miscarriage broke something deeper.

I watched Alexander sit in the hospital chair beside my bed, his face buried in his hands.

Neither of us spoke.

Because there were no words left.

But life has a cruel way of repeating pain.

A year passed.

Then another pregnancy.

Another loss.

Then another.

And another.

Five times.

Five tiny lives that never even had the chance to breathe.

The doctors ran endless tests.

Blood work.

Hormone panels.

Scans.

But every result came back the same.

Normal.

Healthy.

No explanation.

No reason.

Just loss.

Soon the whispers started.

At first it was quiet gossip among Alexander’s family.

Then it spread beyond that.

The Hale family was powerful.

People paid attention to everything we did.

Headlines began appearing online.

“Hale Family Heir Struggles to Produce an Heir.”

“Celyne Hale Suffers Fifth Miscarriage.”

“Is the Hale Marriage Cursed?”

I stopped reading the comments.

But sometimes they found me anyway.

Cruel words.

Heartless strangers typing behind screens.

She’s broken.

Alexander should find a real woman.

Some women just aren’t meant to be mothers.

Every word carved into me.

Alexander tried to shield me from it.

But slowly… the pressure began to affect us.

At first, the arguments were small.

“You forgot to take your vitamins again,” he would say.

“I didn’t forget,” I’d snap back.

Then they grew bigger.

“You should rest more.”

“I’ve been resting for months!”

“You’re stressing yourself.”

“I’m trying to live my life!”

Our voices started echoing through the house.

Just like my parents once had.

And every time it happened, a cold fear wrapped around my chest.

History was repeating itself.

Late one night, I woke up and noticed Alexander wasn’t in bed.

The clock read 11:47 PM.

His office light downstairs was still on.

He worked late often, so I didn’t think much of it.

I slipped out of bed and wrapped a robe around myself.

The hallway was quiet as I walked toward his office.

The door was slightly open.

I pushed it gently.

“Alexander—”

The word died in my throat.

Because the scene in front of me froze the air in my lungs.

Alexander laid on the couch beside his desk.

Completely naked.

And Elara was pressed against him.

Also naked.

Her long dark hair spilled over his shoulder as she clung to him.

Their bodies tangled together like they belonged that way.

For a moment, none of us moved.

The silence was suffocating.

Then Elara slowly turned her head.

Her eyes met mine.

There was no shock in her expression.

No guilt.

Only a faint smile.

Alexander stiffened as he realized I was there.

“Celyne—”

But I couldn’t hear anything after that.

The next morning, Alexander walked into the room, I sat patiently waiting for some kind of explanation or apology from him, just anything, only to be left stunned with the words that came out of his mouth.

“Let’s get a divorce.”