MasukELARA’S POV My mother’s expression sharpens. “Do you remember your Aunt Gina?” she asks, her tone suddenly careful, too careful even. My head lifts, confusion slicing through the frustration. “What does Aunt Gina have to do with any of this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. The air shifts. My mother and Aunt Gina despise each other, everyone knows that. Every holiday ended in disaster. The only time they weren’t at war was in their childhood photos, photos aunt later burned one visit and never came back after that. Mom even forbade us from mentioning Gina in the house. “Long before I got pregnant with you, your aunt got pregnant. With her first son.” “I thought Logan and I were the same age?” “Before Logan,” she corrects gently, “your aunt had another baby…. And when she was pregnant with him, the doctors told her the baby had abnormalities due to a chromosomal issue. He couldn’t develop legs.” She pauses, breath shaky. “They told her the best option was to abort.”
ELARA’S POV Her smile widens as she pulls the overbed tray closer and sets out several bowls. “How have you been, Mom? How’s the restaurant?” I don’t even know where to start. It’s been so long since we’ve had an actual conversation without a terrible connection ending it abruptly. Or one of us forgetting to reply the chats. “Everything’s fine,” she says, pulling out a spoon. Her nails are painted blue and nude, her forever go‑to colors. “I’ve been so busy with the restaurants… I haven’t gotten a chance to take another trip since I got back from Malta.” If I remember right, she came back from Malta last month. “Really?” I prop myself up more. My cheeks are starting to hurt from how much I’m smiling. “But maybe that’s a good thing. The second you’re out of here, we’re going on that mother‑daughter trip I told you about.” “You never told me anything about that.” “I sent you a link on your socials. It’s the new trend these days.” A laugh slips out of me before I ca
ELARA’S POV Nate places another kiss on my forehead. His lips linger longer than the last three times. “I know I look like a ghost,” I sigh just as another silent sting hits my lower back. My whole body feels like it is falling apart. Even though the bleeding has stopped completely, I keep drifting in and out of sleep. The IV needles have left tiny bruises and punctures all over my hands. At this point even breathing feels like a chore. “You do not look like a ghost, my love.” He smiles and snuggles closer, acting like this narrow hospital bed was made for the two of us. “Oh really?” I lift a brow, but my voice comes out so faint it is almost a whisper. “Yes,” he says, sounding entirely too confident. “You were staring so much I could see my dark circles reflected in your eyes.” He turns to me, studying my face with the seriousness of a surgeon. “I don’t see any dark circles here.” I can’t help but smile. “You don’t have to lie. I am supposed to look like a ghost, yo
NATE’S POV The clock on the wall is ticking too loudly. Or maybe it’s just my pulse hammering in my ears. I’m sitting across from the doctor, but I feel like I’m not really here. Like my body arrived, but my mind is still back in that hallway where she collapsed in my arms for the second time in barely two days. Two bleeding episodes. Two brushes with the worst possibility imaginable. The doctor clears her throat gently, and my spine turns to stone. “We stabilized the bleeding again…” she begins, eyes flicking down to the tablet in her hand, “but your wife’s pregnancy remains extremely high-risk.” That word — wife — burns through my chest. It makes everything feel sharper. Real. Close. “How high-risk?” My voice doesn’t even sound like mine. It’s rough, scraped out of my throat. The doctor looks at me with that clinical sympathy I hate more than anything in this world. “Mr. Hale… her uterine lining is very thin. The placenta hasn’t attached well. And given the r
NATE’S POVI can’t sit. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.Ten minutes ago, she was in my arms. Bleeding. Crying.Now I’m useless — stuck in a hallway while strangers decide if she lives.I pace. I curse. I tear at my hair.Every time those doors swing open, my heart stops. And every time it isn’t her, it drops straight to hell.A nurse finally steps out — the one who rushed her inside.I’m on her instantly.“Is she okay? Tell me she’s okay.”“Mr. Hales, please calm—”“No. Tell me what’s happening.”Her expression stays maddeningly blank.“We’re working to stabilize her. She lost more blood than expected.”My knees nearly buckle.“Is she still—”I choke. I can’t finish it.“Yes. She’s alive.”Air finally enters my lungs… then freezes again.“But she is not out of danger yet.”I step closer, voice breaking.“What about the baby?”Her mouth tightens like the answer hurts her too.“There’s a heartbeat,” she says quietly.“Faint. But it’s there.”A sound tears out of me — relief tangled with
ELARAS POV. My breath comes in short, broken bursts as I cling to the wall. My legs won’t hold me. The world tilts, blurs, then tilts again. Why… why does it hurt this much? Nate’s arms are around me before I even hit the floor. “Elara?” His voice cracks. Actually cracks. I barely hear him over the rush in my ears. “I—I’m okay…” I’m lying. He knows I’m lying. The pain rips through me again, sharper, angrier, and I fold forward with a choked gasp. Tears blurring my vision. “Elara, look at me.” His hands cup my face, trembling. Nate never trembles. But I can’t focus. It feels like something is slipping out of me. Like I’m losing something I don’t want to lose. My fingers shake as I look down and see the blood. My stomach drops. “No… no, no, no… please…” Nate goes pale. He doesn’t waste a second. He scoops me up, holds me tight against him, and runs. I can feel his heart hammering through his chest, loud and terrified. “Nate—” “Don’t talk.” His ja







