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“Why aren’t you here yet, Leon?”

Her voice carried a mix of irritation and worry through the phone.

Leonard Ashcroft let out a small smile, his breath slightly uneven as he wedged his phone between his ear and shoulder while opening his car door.

“Traffic’s completely jammed,” he replied, glancing ahead. A long line of vehicles was at a standstill along one of London’s busiest streets. The city lights had begun to flicker on, reflecting against the rain-slick asphalt. “A truck overturned. I won’t make it on time.”

On the other end, Arabella Whitmore fell silent for a moment.

“It’s our wedding anniversary, Leon.”

Her tone shifted—softer, deeper.

And for some reason… it made Leonard’s chest tighten.

“I know,” he said quickly. “That’s why I’m getting out of the car now. I’ll run.”

“You’re serious?”

“I’m not going to make you wait alone tonight.”

There was a pause.

Then Arabella’s soft laughter came through—warm, full of love.

“I’m already in front of the restaurant. Don’t fall on your way just trying to look romantic.”

Leonard chuckled. “I’m an athlete, Bella.”

“You’re a businessman who spends too much time sitting in expensive leather chairs.”

“Not tonight.”

He ended the call before Arabella could respond.

The night air hit him immediately as he stepped out of the car—cold, sharp, but refreshing.

Leonard shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over his arm, then began to run.

His strides were steady as he moved along the crowded sidewalk. People passed by—some seeking shelter, others rushing home. But for Leonard, the world seemed to narrow into a single destination—

Arabella.

She had waited for him for three years.

Three years of marriage.

Three years of trying.

Three years of hoping.

And finally… tonight was different.

A faint smile touched Leonard’s lips as his thoughts drifted to Arabella’s now-rounded belly.

Eight months.

Just a matter of time.

He quickened his pace.

His heart pounded faster—not from exhaustion, but from anticipation.

As he rounded the final corner, he saw her immediately.

Arabella stood in front of an elegant restaurant, warm light spilling through the large glass windows behind her. Her long dress flowed softly, framing her pregnant figure. Her hair was neatly styled, her face radiant despite the fatigue.

Beautiful.

Always beautiful.

As if sensing his presence, Arabella turned.

And the moment their eyes met—

She smiled.

Then she lifted her hand in a small wave.

That simple gesture felt like home.

Leonard smiled back, raising his hand in return as he picked up his pace, nearing the edge of the street.

He only needed to cross.

Just a few more steps.

But at the same moment—

Arabella’s smile faded.

Her eyes widened.

“Leon—!”

Her voice was cut off by the roar of an engine.

A car sped in from the right, far too fast for a street like this. Its headlights blazed, reflecting off the wet road.

Leonard didn’t see it.

He was too focused on Arabella.

Too close to his destination.

And too late to realize the danger.

Arabella moved first.

“Stop!”

Without thinking, she ran.

Fast.

Faster than someone eight months pregnant ever should.

“Leon, stop!”

Leonard finally turned—

But not toward the car.

Toward Arabella, who was running straight at him.

And in a single second that felt like eternity—

Everything happened at once.

The screech of brakes.

A scream.

A violent impact.

Arabella’s body was thrown.

Time seemed to stop.

Leonard froze.

The world fell silent.

All he could see—

Was her.

The woman who had just been standing there, smiling, waiting for him.

Now lying in the middle of the road.

Motionless.

Blood spreading across the asphalt.

“…Bella?” Leonard’s voice broke. His legs moved on their own.

He ran.

Dropping to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as they reached for her face—

And his breath caught.

Her face…

Was shattered.

“No… no, no, no—”

He pulled her into his arms, not caring about the blood soaking into his shirt.

“Bella, listen to me. Open your eyes. Come on… come on…”

No response.

Only the faintest breath.

Barely there.

People began to gather. Panic filled the air. Sirens wailed in the distance.

But Leonard heard nothing except the frantic pounding of his own heart.

“Ambulance!” someone shouted.

Leonard lowered his head, pressing his forehead against Arabella’s.

“You can’t leave,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Do you hear me? You can’t—”

His words broke off.

His hand slowly moved… to her stomach.

Still.

Fear.

Hope.

“…The baby,” he murmured. “Bella… the baby…”

No movement.

No answer.

Leonard Ashcroft was utterly helpless.

At the hospital.

Harsh white lights. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air. Doctors’ footsteps echoed rapidly along the corridor.

Leonard stood outside the operating room, his face pale, his hands still stained with blood he hadn’t fully washed away.

Time moved slowly.

Too slowly.

The door opened.

A doctor stepped out, his expression grave.

“Mr. Ashcroft?”

Leonard immediately stepped forward. “My wife—”

“Your wife is in critical condition.”

The world seemed to collapse.

“But…” the doctor continued, “we were able to save the baby.”

Leonard fell silent.

Only one question escaped his lips—

“Is it… a boy or a girl?”