Chapter 93

Lila’s POV

The silence that followed Drew’s words was worse than the shouting, worse than the accusations and worse than the moment I thought I might lose him on that stretcher.

"You’re no different from her."

The phrase looped inside my head like a broken record, until it wasn’t his voice anymore. It became mine, whispering into my ear, accusing me and condemning me.

My hate for Kimberley intensified too.

Even though she was not here her ghost filled the room, her presence had become a constant between Drew and I. She was the woman who had carved him open and left wounds that had never closed. The woman I swore I would never become. And yet, in his eyes, I was already like her.

I sat frozen in the chair, my body rigid and my breath shallow. The heart monitor’s steady beeping mocked me. Every note said he was alive, that I had not lost him in body. But what use was that? when his heart and his trust was slipping further and further away from me.

I don't know how I got to this point where I cared so much about Drew trusting me. I didn't know how Drew became this important to me that I cared so much about how he looked at me. Maybe it was because of his child growing inside of me but I could not stand the look of disdain on his face.

I wanted to scream, to beg him, to make him look at me and see the truth, not just the lies he thought I had built around him. But I could not do anything. My throat locked tight, strangled by the weight of his judgment.

The door clicked softly, breaking the suffocating stillness.

A nurse entered, pushing a small cart of medication. She smiled politely, oblivious to the hurricane in the room. “Finally you are awake, I need to check your vitals and make sure everything is fine.”

I scrambled to my feet with my legs shaking taking the nurse’s word as my cue to leave.

Drew didn’t look at me. Not even once.

He shifted slightly, wincing as the nurse adjusted the IV, but his gaze never moved from the ceiling. He treated me as though I wasn’t even there. As though I was just air.

I waited a little longer, hoping and praying for even a flicker of his eyes, a crack in the wall he had just built between us. But there was nothing.

The nurse murmured about stable blood pressure, about monitoring his ribs, but her words blurred into static.

I couldn’t stay anymore. Not when each second pressed the truth deeper into my bones.

The truth that he didn’t want me.

I turned, my hands trembling, and slipped out the door.

The hallway was colder than before. The lights buzzed faintly overhead, the polished floor gleaming too bright. Every step back to my own room which was just next to his felt like walking into a grave I had dug with my silence.

When the door closed behind me, the dam in my eyes broke.

I slid down against it, my body folding until I sat on the cold floor, arms wrapped around myself.

“He will never forgive me,” I whispered into the emptiness. My voice cracked and shook. “He will never look at me the same again.”

The tears came harder. My chest heaved and my throat was raw. I remembered his voice cutting through me, steady and merciless: “I don’t want you anywhere around me.” I remembered his hands pulling mine from his face like my touch was poison.

And worst of all, I remembered the comparison with Kimberley.

The word alone was a knife.

I had seen Drew guarded before, I had seen him cold and unyielding but it was never like this. I have never seen him with such fire in his eyes. I realized then that the worst wound I had given him wasn’t hiding the baby. It was making him feel like I had betrayed him in the exact same way the woman he hated most had.

And what defense did I have? None. My silence had become my prison.

I curled tighter on the floor, nausea curling through me. The pregnancy, the stress and the heartbreak, it all mixed until my body shook with it.

For a terrifying second, I thought I might faint. My palm instinctively pressed against my stomach, grounding myself in the one truth left that mattered.

The baby.

The only constant I had.

I crawled onto the bed eventually, my body aching. The sheets were too white, too sterile, and I curled on my side as tears soaked into the pillow.

“I have to be strong,” I whispered hoarsely, my hand still on my stomach. “If not for me, then for you.”

My voice broke, but I forced the words out again. “I can not afford to fall apart. Not now. Not when you need me.”

Maybe Drew would never forgive me. Maybe he would never look at me with anything but betrayal. But I could not live for his forgiveness anymore.

I had to live for myself. For the heartbeat inside me that had not asked for any of this chaos. For the child who would one day look to me for everything.

I thought of Max then, his cruel smile, his hands dragging me into darkness. He was still out there, and I knew for sure that he wasn’t finished. That much I knew and the thought made me shiver. Drew’s anger left me exposed and vulnerable, but it also gave me clarity.

If he wouldn’t protect me, I would protect myself.

And our baby.

Tears blurred my vision, but I clung to the vow like fragile armor. “I will be strong for us, no matter what.”

The words were not enough to heal me, but they anchored me. Just barely.

And though my heart felt like it was shattering, I closed my eyes and held onto that promise, because it was the only thing I had left.