CHAPTER 25 — SACRIFICE

POV: Claire

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and despair. It always did, no matter how many times I walked its sterile hallways, but today it hit me like a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

I walked behind the nurse, my heels clicking against the cold tiles, each step echoing ominously. I kept my head down, hands clenched in front of me, because I wasn’t ready—couldn’t be ready—to see Sophie like this.

When the nurse opened the door to the consultation room, I froze.

Sophie sat on the examination table, hair messy, skin paler than I had ever seen it. Her eyes, once so vibrant, were dull, shadows lingering beneath them. And Ryan… Ryan stood just behind her, leaning against the wall, jaw tight, fists clenched, his entire body taut with suppressed anger and fear.

Seeing them both, my chest tightened painfully. This wasn’t just about what had happened with the DNA revelation anymore. This wasn’t about guilt or desire, or the mess we’d created. This was life and death.

The doctor, a calm man in his forties with kind eyes, gestured for us to sit. ““I’m sorry, but this won’t be easy to hear,” he began, speaking softly yet firmly.

“Sophie has ovarian cancer. Advanced stage. The good news—if we can call it that—is that she’s a candidate for a bone marrow transplant. The bad news is that finding a match will be difficult.”

I felt my stomach lurch. Everything went silent in my mind except for the doctor’s words, echoing over and over. Ovarian cancer. Sophie. Bone marrow. Match. Difficult.

Ryan’s hand found mine instinctively, gripping it tightly, a silent plea and anchor all at once. I felt my knees weaken.

“I… I agree to be tested,” I breathed out before I could rethink it.

The doctor looked at me, surprise flickering across his features. “Are you a relative?”

“I—she’s my daughter,” I said quickly, realizing my voice sounded strained. “I—I can be tested. Please, anything that can save her.”

Ryan’s eyes went wide. He was pale, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Claire, wait—”

I ignored him. Ignored the sharp pang of fear and anger in his gaze. Sophie needed me. That was all that mattered.

The testing process began immediately. Blood drawn, forms signed, the nurse murmuring reassurances I could barely hear. I sat beside Sophie, holding her hand, trying to hide the shaking in my own. She looked at me, weak, fragile, yet trying to smile. “Mom… it’s okay,” she whispered.

I wanted to scream. How could I possibly tell her that nothing about this was okay? That I was carrying my own secret, that my body would soon betray us both? That the pregnancy inside me made everything infinitely more complicated—and dangerous?

The next twenty-four hours were a haze of waiting. My mind kept drifting away from the now.

Every second, I thought of what it would mean if I was the match. Every second, I imagined the tests coming back negative. Every second, I feared the consequences.

Finally, the call came. The doctor’s voice, calm, professional, seemed almost cruel in its simplicity. “Claire Lawson… you are a perfect match. We can proceed with the donation.”

The world tilted. I clutched the phone like it was a lifeline and not a verdict. Perfect match. Sophie’s life saved… maybe. But at what cost?

I barely registered Ryan’s sudden exhale beside me. His hand found mine again, tighter this time, and I felt the tension radiate through him. “Claire… please dont,” he said quietly, almost pleading.

I looked at him, anger and desperation colliding in my chest. “I have to. She’s my daughter. My baby girl. If I can save her… I have to.”

His hands dug into my shoulders, stopping me, eyes shadowed with an almost primal intensity. “No.”

You’re carrying your baby. You can’t risk it. You can’t put her at risk. There has to be another way!”

Tears slid down my face while I shook my head in disbelief.

“There is no other way. If I don’t do this… she dies. I can’t live with that. I can’t watch her die.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing for a long moment. I could see the war inside him, the battle between reason and desire, between fear and love. Finally, his shoulders slumped, defeated. “Claire… I can’t stop you. But I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you.”

The truth was, I didn’t care. Not anymore. Sophie’s life mattered more than mine. More than the complications of my own pregnancy. More than Ryan’s anger, or Margaret’s manipulations, or the judgment of the world.

The preparations began immediately. I was monitored closely, my pregnancy complicating every step. The nurses and doctors worked carefully, explaining the risks, the precautions, the almost-impossible circumstances. Every word felt like a hammer to my heart.

Ryan stayed by my side throughout, holding my hand, watching every step, his emotions a swirling storm I couldn’t touch. He hated it. He hated me for risking myself. He loved me enough to fear for me. And yet… he didn’t stop me.

The day of the procedure arrived. I was wheeled into the sterile operating room, heart hammering in my chest, hands shaking, mind screaming at me to turn back. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Sophie needed me.

As the anesthesiologist administered the sedative, I caught Ryan’s gaze. He pressed his forehead against mine, whispering, almost breaking: “Come back to me.”

I squeezed his hand weakly, whispering in return: “She’ll live… because of me.”

And then the world went dark.

Hours later, I woke in recovery, body aching, drained, trembling, but alive. I had done it. I had saved Sophie.

Ryan was there immediately, eyes wide with a mixture of fear, relief, and something darker—something I didn’t dare name yet. He took my hand in both of his, holding it as if afraid I might vanish. “Claire… you did it. You’re alive. You’re… incredible.”

I gave him a weak smile, exhaustion weighing me down. “She’ll be okay,” I whispered.

And in that moment, even with pain coursing through me, even knowing my own body had been irrevocably changed, even knowing the consequences of my actions, I felt a flicker of something like hope. Because Sophie was alive. Because I had made a choice that mattered.

But the cost… the cost would come later.