I KILLED MY BABY

MAYA

I started staring at the book more often. Every day after I cleaned the Alpha—after I washed his broad chest, dressed him, and settled him into his high-backed chair—I would sit near the window, open the heavy leather tome, and stare into the intricate script.

It made me weak and dizzy every single time. The room would tilt slightly, a low hum vibrating in the back of my skull as if my brain were fighting to decode something ancient. But despite the exhaustion, somehow it awakened something deep inside me. Layer by layer, the thick wall separating my human self from my reincarnated spirit was crumbling.

Today, I was sitting by the window staring at the pages like always, the afternoon sun warming the heavy parchment. Suddenly, a strange, electric sensation coursed through my veins. It was a sharp, clear intuition—a sudden feeling that I could break a glass cup resting on the bedside table by just thinking it in my mind.

I stopped reading and froze. I looked over at the clear glass sitting on the wooden surface a few feet away.

I am going to break you, I thought, focusing every ounce of my mind, my spirit, and my breath onto the center of the glass.

I stared intensely at the glass, and within seconds, a loud CRACK echoed through the quiet room. The glass shattered into a hundred tiny pieces without me touching it at all.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart thundered against my ribs, not out of fear, but out of pure, intoxicating wonder. It worked. The power in the book was real, and it was flowing directly into my hands.

Eager to test the limits of this new gift, I turned my gaze toward the thick, heavy velvet curtain hanging by the balcony door. I clamped my jaws together, visualizing the fabric splitting down the middle. I stared at the curtain with absolute focus, and with a sudden RIIIP, the heavy material tore straight into two pieces from top to bottom as if an invisible sword had sliced through it.

I laughed softly, a wave of immense joy and relief washing over me. I was no longer just a helpless maid or a pawn in Maria's twisted palace games. I had power. Real, tangible, terrifying power.

Overwhelmed by the excitement of this discovery, I began to stare at different objects around the room—thinking whatever it was I wanted to happen to the object, and instantly, it would happen. A wooden chair slid two inches across the floor; a candle flame flickered out and relit itself at my command.

In that state of pure, unbridled joy and reckless thrill, my eyes fell down to my heavy, rounded belly. I felt so unstoppable, so completely in control of life and death, that I looked at the child growing inside me.

Come out, I thought impulsively, pushing my newfound spiritual intent straight into my own womb. Come out right now.

The moment the command left my mind, a violent, tearing pain exploded deep within my lower abdomen.

"AAGH!" I screamed, dropping the heavy Arabic book to the floor as a sickening, hot wave flooded between my thighs.

I looked down in sheer horror. Thick, dark blood was pouring out from under my dress, dripping rapidly down my thighs and soaking into the bedroom carpet. The sudden, agonizing contractions hit me like iron hammers, twisting my gut until I collapsed onto my hands and knees.

"MISCARRIAGE! THE BABY IS GONE! I KILLED IT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice breaking into hysterical, uncontrollable sobbing as I clutched my bleeding stomach. "SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE!"

The heavy bedroom doors burst open. Maria rushed into the room, stopping dead in her tracks as her eyes took in the horrific scene—the shattered glass, the torn curtains, the dropped book, and me lying in a pool of my own blood.

"Maya!" she gasped out, though her voice lacked any real terror.

Within minutes, Maria called the pack doctor into the master quarters. I was lifted onto the mattress, my body shaking violently as the elderly physician examined me with hurried, solemn hands.

After what felt like an eternity of painful prodding and silent checks, the doctor slowly stepped back, taking off his gloves. He turned toward Maria and Edward—who was standing near the foot of the bed, holding his cane with a pale, confused expression.

"I am deeply sorry, Alpha," the doctor announced quietly, his voice heavy. "Luna Maya has suffered a complete miscarriage. The baby is gone."

Edward let out a low, gut-wrenching groan, leaning heavily on his cane as he lowered his head in silence.

I lay on the blood-stained sheets, weeping silently, consumed by a mountain of guilt and self-hatred. I had let my own foolish pride and dangerous curiosity destroy the innocent life growing inside me.

But as the room grew quiet, I happened to glance past the doctor's shoulder toward the doorway.

Maria was standing in the shadows. The moment the doctor declared that I had miscarried, a slow, dark, wicked smile spread across her face. Her eyes sparkled with pure, triumphant delight as she stared down at my broken body.

I turned my head away, choking on my tears. I felt completely defeated by Maria. She hadn't even needed to lift a finger this time; my own uncontrolled power had handed her the very victory she had been praying for.