AVA’S DEAD?

Ava’s POV

I got up from my sleep and looked around to see if Bryan’s parents were back yet, but they weren’t. I walked into Bryan’s room, then into the bathroom, and took a shower. After drying off, I stared at my tummy in the mirror, my mind heavy as memories of Chris flashed through me: our relationship and that birthday surprise at the hotel that night. “This is the result of that night,” I murmured. I quickly shook it off and picked up my phone, dialing Dr. Dane’s number.

The line clicked, and his calm voice answered. “Hello, Ava. This is Dr. Dane.”

“Good morning, Doctor,” I said, trying to sound alright. “I… I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s really important to me,” I added, pausing for him to respond, but the line remained silent. I continued, “My aunt found out that I was pregnant and threw me out of the house. I’m homeless right now, and that’s why I’m calling you, Doc. I don’t know if you can help me.” I remembered how Dr. Dane used to say I could confide in him, that I could share my problems with him.

But he seemed tired of my complaints and my tragic life. A long pause settled on his end, and I could hear him thinking. “I see. Ava, I think we should meet in a better place to discuss this properly. It’ll be easier to go over everything in detail.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes, that would be better. Thank you, Doctor Dane.”

“I’ll text you the address immediately after this call,” he added before ending the call. I dropped the phone and smiled, feeling a long, deep relief as though a heavy weight had been lifted from my chest. But a permanent one remained—the one Chris had placed there. I sat on the bed, hands on my tummy. “Believe me, I’ll watch your misery after I’ve recovered from this,” I whispered to myself as tears fell from my eyes.

I also vowed never to talk to Chris again, to act as if I had never known him.

A ping from my phone distracted me. Dr. Dane had sent the address. I put on a casual dress and hurried off.

Bryan’s POV

I came home and didn’t see Ava anywhere. The house was quiet, and my parents weren’t back yet either. I called her line once, twice… it rang endlessly, but she didn’t pick. My stomach churned with worry. She had never left the house alone like this. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them good.

I decided to wait, pacing the room, glancing at the door every few seconds, hoping she would barge in laughing, telling me it was all a prank. I didn’t know why I felt so uneasy. Had Tessa finally gotten her? But no, I didn’t think Tessa had anything to do with this.

Minutes stretched like hours. Then, I saw her—approaching from the gate—but something was terribly wrong.

Blood ran down her thighs, dark and wet against the fabric of her dress. My heart stopped.

“Ava!” I shouted, rushing to her.

I grabbed her, holding her tight, but she couldn’t speak. Her hands clutched at me, her body trembling. Panic seized me.

“Stay with me! Talk to me, Ava!” I pleaded, my voice cracking.

She shook her head weakly, unable to form words. I spotted a taxi nearby and, without a second thought, lifted her into my arms. She was light, fragile, and slipping from my grasp, her blood soaking through her dress.

“Drive! Anywhere! Just get us to a hospital!” I yelled to the driver, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The taxi screeched off, weaving through traffic as I held her close, trying to keep her conscious.

Inside, my mind was a storm. Didn’t I leave her at home? How did this happen? Why didn’t she call me back? My chest tightened with fear, and I could barely breathe.

When we arrived at the hospital, I ran inside, screaming for help. Nurses rushed forward as I handed Ava to them. “She’s bleeding! Female ward, now!” one shouted.

A stretcher was quickly rolled out. I helped guide her onto it, my hands trembling as if they had a mind of their own. The nurses whisked her away, pushing her through the corridors toward the female ward. I followed, pacing and muttering prayers under my breath.

I sank onto a chair outside, my entire body trembling from fear and helplessness. My mind replayed the moments I had just witnessed—her blood, her weakness, her silence. I had no idea exactly what had happened, but one thing was certain: something had gone terribly wrong.

Time dragged. The nurses weren’t giving me clear answers, so I decided to walk around, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders.

My phone rang quietly in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen—it was my mom. She must have returned from work. I dropped the phone back into my pocket. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, especially my parents.

Later, the doctor rushed out and asked to speak with me in his office.

I sat opposite him. “Who are you to her?” he asked, his gaze sharp. I swallowed hard.

“She’s my sister. Our parents had traveled,” I lied. “Doctor, you can talk to me—I’m like a father to her.”

He drew a deep breath. “Do you know your sister is three months pregnant?” he asked steadily.

I shook my head, showing I was aware.

I dropped my gaze to the floor. My heart pounded so loud, I imagined the doctor could hear it.

“Pull yourself together, please,” he said, staring at me intently.

“Is she dead?” I asked, my eyes shimmering with fear of the unknown.

“We tried our best,” he said.

My heart dropped. My world crumbled. I knew Ava might not survive this.