Page 36 of Dark Truths

Dimitri.?

My heart lurches forward painfully at the thought of him. I wish he could be here with me, hold me, share in the loss and help me grieve, but that’s impossible. Not with my mom here. The realization only makes my heart hurt all the more.

“No,” I admit softly, burying my face in my blanket. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

A few quiet moments later, she starts to hum a familiar lullaby tune she would sing to me as a child when the storms grew too loud. Her touch on the top of my head is as gentle and comforting as it was back then, lulling me into a deep slumber.

I should have known he would come for me in the night. He always does. Especially after I’ve been ignoring him all day.

“Gabriella?”

I open my eyes to a dark room lit only by a single lamp on my bedside. Its dim light cast shadows across his face as he peers down at me. In his hand, he holds one of my medicine bottles and looks between its label and me.?

“What happened? This date is today.”

I shift in bed and sit up slowly, my back spasming in protest, while I keep one hand on the heating pad still Velcroed around my waist.

His eyes snap to the pad and narrow. “What the fuck happened?”

I snort. His angry outburst isn’t surprising.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I tend to be a little more sarcastic when in pain with a heavy heart and sleep deprived.

“I'm sorry, Gabriella. I’m relieved you’re okay, but please tell me why you need to be fine to begin with.” He sits on the bed and reaches for my hand.?I give it and he squeezes gently.“Gabriella?” Something more than concern laces his tone. Like he’s afraid.

“I was pregnant.” It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and the words sound so foreign coming from my mouth.

“Was?” he repeats after a long moment.

I nod, unable and unwilling to meet his eyes. “Yes.”

“You…lost it?”

“Yes.”

“A miscarriage?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“How far…were you?”

“The doctor says just about a month.”

“And you’re sure it was—”

I snap my head up and level him with a heated glare. “If you’re wondering if it was yours, the answer is yes.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Yes, it was.”

He sighs hard, like I’ve frustrated or annoyed him. Ass. “Gabriella, I didn’t come here to fight.”

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