2. Miscarriage

‎I woke to the steady beeping of a machine and the sharp sting in my arm. ‎The smell of antiseptic and the crushing weight of silence pressed down heavily on my chest. ‎For a moment, I didn't remember where I was. The ceiling above me was plain white and unfamiliar. ‎I turned my head slightly and saw a thin tube connected to my arm, feeding clear liquid into my veins. That was where the sting came from.

‎

‎My body felt hollow, aching in a way that went deeper than flesh. Then the pain came. Not the physical kind—though it was there, as a dull, persistent throb low in my abdomen— but the other pain. The one that tore through me, so violently I couldn't breathe. ‎Then the beeping grew restless and erratic.

‎

‎The sound of footsteps rushed closer, then the door was pushed open. The healer hurried to my side, her movements quick but hesitant, and her expression was gentle but grim. A look of pity crossed her eyes, and that made my heart sink even before she said anything.

‎“My Luna…” she hesitated. "I'm sorry. The shock was too much. The child… could not be saved.” 

Her words came out softly, ‎but the impact was anything but soft. ‎It felt as though a clawed hand ripped straight through my chest, splitting my heart open. I gasped, clutching the sheets as agony surged through me in violent waves. My vision blurred instantly as tears spilled down my temples, soaking into the pillow beneath my head.

‎

‎Gone. ‎My baby was gone. ‎The little life I had carried for such a brief, precious moment. The only proof that I wasn't broken, that I was worthy, was gone, just like that. ‎A broken sound tore out of my throat before I could even stop it. I turned my face away, curling inward, in a ball, as if I could somehow contain the emptiness tearing me apart. ‎The healer just stood there, helplessly watching me break into a million pieces.

‎

‎Memories crashed into me all at once.

‎

‎The door.

‎The voices.

‎The bed. Their words.

‎

‎Our boy.

‎I've been giving her contraceptives for years. My hands shook badly.

‎

‎No.

‎

‎I couldn't lie here. I wouldn't let this be the end of it. ‎Nolan Darkmoon would look me in the eyes. He'd hear what he had done. To me, to our child, and to us. ‎He'd see what he'd destroyed. ‎I forced myself upright despite the healer's protest; my body screamed in pain as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The ache that seared through my abdomen was sharp, but it grounded me, anchoring me to something solid.

‎

‎Fury.

‎

‎I left the clinic wrapped in a cloak that felt far too heavy for my own fragile body. ‎Whisperers followed me as I passed through the pack grounds.

‎

‎“She lost the child…”

‎"No wolf, and no heir…" 

‎“Poor Luna… or maybe cursed." 

‎

‎Some glances held looks of pity, while others held poorly hidden contempt; a few didn't even bother hiding their satisfaction at all. ‎My spine stiffened with every step I took. Yes, I was wolfless from birth. But I lifted my chin anyway, refusing to bow under their stares, even as my heart bled with every one of their murmured word. ‎I didn't stop walking until I reached Vespera's residence.

‎

‎And then—

‎

‎I froze. ‎The door opened, and Nolan stepped out first; beside him was Vespera, and between them, held carefully, was the little boy. Their son; they looked like a perfect little family straight out of a magazine. My breath hitched painfully as something twisted deep in my chest; it should have been us. ‎The sight was so cruel; it seemed absurd. I swallowed forcefully.

‎

‎Vespera noticed me first. ‎Her eyes widened, and she gently released the boy's hand, stepping toward me, concern etched on her beautiful face.

‎

‎“Althea," she said softly. “Oh my goodness… are you alright? We heard you collapsed—" 

‎

‎I laughed. ‎The sound was hollow, brittle, nothing like my joy-filled ones.

‎

‎“Don't worry," I said coldly. “I wouldn't dare interrupt family time." 

‎

‎Her lips parted, her expression faltering for just a fraction of a second. Nolan stepped forward then, his face carefully composed, concern painted on it like a second skin.

‎

‎“Baby,” he said evenly. ‎The word nearly broke me all over again. 

‎“This isn't what you think." ‎I looked at him—really looked at him—and something in me crumbled.

‎

‎“Isn't it?" I asked quietly, my voice cracked. “Because it looks to me like my husband walking hand in hand with his lover and their child." 

‎

‎Vespera gasped softly, tears instantly pooling in her eyes.

‎

‎“Please don't say things like that." She pleaded, her voice quivering. “You're misunderstanding everything. My marriage was miserable, Althea. You know that. Nolan has only ever helped me out of kindness.”

‎

‎She reached for my hand, but I ripped it away. Nolan nodded, seizing the opportunity. "She's my late brother's wife. And the child is his son. I'm only taking care of my family.”

‎

‎As he spoke, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Vespera's shoulders, pulling her gently against his side. To comfort her, the absurdity of it almost made me dizzy. Anger surged through me violently, hot, blinding, and overwhelming. My hand rose before I even realized it, trembling as I moved to strike him. ‎But it never reached him. ‎A firm grip closed around my wrist painfully.

‎

‎“Nolan," his Beta said sharply, stepping between us, his eyes warning. “This isn't appropriate." 

‎

‎He dropped my hand uselessly to my side, and ‎Nolan's gaze hardened.

‎

‎“Enough, Althea,” he said coldly. "Stop imagining things that never happened. All this pain you're feeling is in your head. Don't drag innocent people into your delusions.”

‎

‎So something inside me went utterly still. The final string of hope snapped neatly. ‎I looked at the man I had been utterly in love with for five long years. The man I had centered my existence around, and saw him clearly at last.

‎

‎A stranger.‎

‎Liar.‎

‎A cheating bastard.

‎A monster wrapped in authority and charm.

‎

‎The weight of silence in the courtyard rushed through my ears. ‎I knew what I was about to say next would shatter everything. ‎Us. And it was only just the beginning, but I didn't care anymore.

‎

‎“I want a divorce."