Page 127 of Ruthless Lullaby

I lost the baby. I'm certain of it.

Lying on a hospital bed, I keep my eyes tightly shut. My mind is jumbled and my emotions are raw. The only sensation in my focus is the hot streak of tears rolling down my cheeks. One lone tear reaches my lips and I taste its saltiness with a small lick. It's a strange but welcome distraction from the physical pain coursing through my body and the emotional turmoil in my soul.

A delicate knock on the door breaks through my thoughts. I open my eyes to see Betty perched on the chair next to me, staring at me with an expression that only deepens the ache in my chest.

A doctor who appears to be in his late forties walks into the room. His hair and beard are peppered with grey strands, giving him an air of wisdom and experience. "Ms. Williams," he says, his voice calm and precise, "My name is Dr. Thompson." He glances at the clipboard in his hand. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you have suffered a miscarriage."

His words strike me with a force that feels like a kick in the gut. Grief washes over me, so intense it's almost physical. This tiny life, barely begun, was already so loved, so wanted. The future I'd begun to imagine - first steps, first words, first day ofschool - crumbles away, leaving a void that feels impossible to fill.

I fight against my trembling hands to sit up. "Did I... did I really miscarry?" It’s a stupid question. My voice wavers as I say it, but I already know the answer. What else did I expect after what happened at Betty’s? Did I really believe he’d congratulate me on successfully carrying the pregnancy?

Dr. Thompson's nods. "I’m afraid so, Miss Williams. It seems that your body has experienced significant levels of stress recently, both physically and emotionally. The miscarriage was probably a consequence of these factors." He glances at his notes again. "In addition, you have a history of hormonal issues and were registered for IVF."

"Yes," I confirm. "But the IVF never went through."

"May I ask why?" the doctor inquires.

Well, because my ex gambled away our IVF money, and then proceeded to break up with me. Then, I fell in love with his brother and the baby I lost now was his. You know, just the usual stuff, doc.

"The situation has changed," I reply.

"I understand," the doctor responds. "However, I must inform you that, given your medical history, maintaining a healthy pregnancy will be quite challenging."

Betty squeezes my hand tighter, her own eyes brimming with tears. She pulls me into a soft embrace, being careful not to disturb the IVs and monitor attached to me.

The sound of someone clearing his throat snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn to look towards the door. Maron standsthere. He looks just as he did when he was my boss at Global Media - stoic, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

He remains silent, his gaze fixed on me. I can't quite decipher his expression; it's a blend of shock and something else that eludes me. Perhaps pain or disappointment, or maybe a combination of the two.

Dr. Thompson follows my gaze, sensing the tension in the room. "Take all the time you need to process the news, Miss Williams," he says softly. "If you have any questions, just press the call button and someone will be with you." With that, he exits the room.

Betty is still holding onto my hand, giving me comfort and support amidst the overwhelming grief. As for Maron, he remains frozen in place, his eyes fixed on mine.

"I'll leave you two alone," Betty says, giving my hand one last squeeze before letting go. "Just call me if you need anything, Mindy." She nods at Maron. "Goodbye, Mr. Korolev."

"Goodbye," he replies. "Thank you for calling me."

With a soft click, Betty leaves the room and I'm left alone with Maron. He walks towards my bedside and looks at me, tilting his head. His face is still a blend of emotions I can’t quite decipher. He sits down on the chair next to me, but his eyes never leave mine. After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks up. "Why didn't you tell me, Mindy?" His voice is low and tense.

Tears spill from my eyes as I fight to keep my composure. "I’m sorry. I was going to tell you. But I needed time to process it."

"For two and a half months? That's not processing, that's hiding."

My voice cracks. "It is processing, for me, Maron. I couldn't believe this is happening. All my life I’ve been told that it was impossible for me to get pregnant naturally. I just wanted to get to the end of my first trimester and then tell you." I sniff. He hands me a tissue as I blow my nose. "I’m so sorry, Maron. I really am."

The pain hits me once again like my heart is being torn into pieces. I feel completely hollow, like a part of me has been ripped away. Maron's eyes bore into mine, with something swirling in them that looks like suspicion.

"Was the baby mine?" he asks, his voice low and commanding.

Every nerve in my body tenses up. I meet his gaze through my tears and my heart races as I try to understand the reason behind his question.

"I'm not sure why you’re asking me that," I respond.

"Don't play games with me, Mindy," he growls. He leans closer, making his presence both intimidating and alluring. "You know exactly what I mean."

I hold his gaze and take a deep breath. "That’s really unfair, Maron. But yes, it was your child. It couldn't have been anyone else's."

If the look he gives me could speak, it would say:“I want to believe you but I'm not sure I can.”He studies my face, his expression turning into a battlefield of conflicting emotions. The intensity of his stare makes me feel exposed and even more vulnerable than before.

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