Chapter 7

Ivy's POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the silence.

My brows furrowed slightly as I slowly opened my eyes.

White.

That was all I saw at first. White ceiling. White walls. White sheets.

A hospital.

The realization hit me slowly, like everything else these days.

I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts, but my head still felt heavy, like I had been asleep for too long.

What happened?

The question lingered in my mind, hazy and incomplete.

Then, little by little, memories started slipping back in.

Work.

Mrs. Dorsey.

The dizziness.

Walking back home.

And then… Darkness.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, my breath catching.

The baby.

A wave of panic surged through me as I tried to sit up too quickly.

Pain shot through my body, and I gasped softly, clutching the edge of the bed.

“Careful.”

The voice made me freeze.

I turned my head slowly. A man in a white coat stood near the door, holding a file in his hands. He looked calm, his eyes scanning me like he had already figured me out before I even said a word.

“You’re awake,” he said, stepping closer.

I swallowed, my throat dry.

“My… my baby,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is my baby okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and that silence terrified me more than anything.

“Please,” I whispered, my fingers tightening around the bedsheet. “Tell me…”

“Your baby is alive,” he said finally.

“But…” he continued.

My heart dropped again. “But what?”

He glanced at the file in his hands before looking back at me.

“You’ve been under a lot of stress,” he said. “And your body is severely weakened. Malnutrition, exhaustion… and signs of physical strain.”

I lowered my gaze. I didn’t need him to explain that part. I already knew.

“Your pregnancy is… fragile,” he added carefully.

I swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said, his tone firm, “that if you don’t take proper care of yourself, you risk losing the baby.”

The words hit harder than anything else.

My head shook immediately, panic rising in my chest.

“No… no, I’m careful, I…”

“Are you?” he interrupted gently.

I fell silent.

“I have to work,” I said quietly. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You do,” he said.

I let out a small, bitter laugh.

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t.”

Silence settled between us for a moment.

Then he sighed softly, flipping through the file again.

“There’s something else,” he said.

My heart tightened.

“What is it?”

He hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“There are indications that your condition didn’t just develop naturally.”

I frowned slightly.

“I don’t understand.”

He looked at me directly this time.

“There are traces in your system,” he said slowly, “that suggest you may have been exposed to substances that are not safe during pregnancy.”

The words didn’t register immediately.

“Substances…?”

“Yes,” he said. “Certain drugs that could weaken your body and increase the risk of miscarriage.”

My mind went completely blank.

Drugs?

“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not possible. I don’t take anything like that.”

“I’m not saying you took them willingly,” he replied calmly.

My breath caught.

Something cold settled in my chest. “Then… what are you saying?”

He didn’t answer directly.

Someone might have done this to me. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

My fingers trembled slightly as they tightened over the sheet.

“No…” I whispered. “No, that doesn’t make sense…”

But deep down, it did. Because nothing about my pregnancy had been normal from the beginning.

The weakness.

The constant sickness.

The way my body felt like it was fighting itself.

Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away quickly.

I couldn’t cry… not now. Not when I needed to think.

“Can… Can you fix it?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly. “Can you help me keep the baby safe?”

“We can try,” he said honestly. “But it will require strict care.”

“What kind of care?”

“Rest,” he said. “Proper nutrition. No stress. Regular check-ups.”

Rest? Nutrition? No stress?

It sounded almost impossible.

“I’ll do it,” I said immediately. “Whatever it takes.”

Because there was no other option. I wasn’t losing this baby, not after everything I've been through.

The doctor studied me for a moment before nodding.

“We’ll prescribe some medication and keep you under observation for now,” he said. “But you need to understand something.”

I looked at him.

“If you continue the way you’ve been living,” he said firmly, “your chances of carrying this pregnancy to full term are very low.”

My chest tightened painfully. Everything about my life now seemed to come down to chances, and none of them were in my favor.

“I understand,” I whispered.

He nodded once more before closing the file.

“You’re lucky,” he added.

I frowned slightly.

“Lucky?”

He gave a small nod.

“You were brought in on time. A little later, and the situation could have been worse.”

A faint image flickered in my mind.

Strong arms… A deep voice.

My heart skipped.

“Who brought me here?” I asked quickly.

The doctor paused. “A man.”

My breath hitched. “A man?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “He didn’t stay long.”

Something about that made my chest tighten. “Do you know who he is?” I asked, my voice softer now.

The doctor shook his head. “He didn’t leave his name.”

Disappointment settled quietly in my chest. “Oh…”

“But,” he continued, “he made sure everything was taken care of.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your hospital bills,” he said. “They’ve been cleared.”

I froze.

Cleared?

“All of them?” I asked slowly, as if I had heard wrong.

“Yes.”

My mind struggled to process it. “That… that’s not possible,” I said. “I don’t even have enough to…”

“They’ve been paid,” he repeated calmly. “In full.”

I stared at him.

A stranger paid my bills?

Why?

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

The doctor thought for a moment. “Not much,” he said. “Just that you should receive proper care.”

My heart skipped again.

“Do you know what he looked like?” I asked quietly.

The doctor gave a small shrug. “Tall… Well-dressed.”

That didn’t help. If anything, it made things more confusing.

Because someone like that… would never have anything to do with someone like me.

I looked down at my hands.

Why would he help me?

Why would he care?

The questions circled endlessly in my mind, but none of them had answers.

And somehow…

That bothered me more than anything else.