Page 25 of Unleashed
A rapid, steady beat crackling through the small speaker, fast and fierce and perfect. And my whole. World. Changes.
Anthony’s gaze lets go of mine, and we both glance at the monitor.
There, in the soft glow of grayscale static, is the faint outline of something impossibly small… yet soalive. A bean-shaped curve nestled within a dark oval, flickering with movement so delicate, so rapid, it barely seems real.
But it is.
A tiny rhythm pulses on the screen, like wings fluttering inside a jar. As the doctor moves the probe slightly, zooming in, the image sharpens, and right at the center… that heartbeat. Like a tiny drum, thudding against all odds. Beating…inside ofme.
My breath catches.
Not because I’m scared. Not anymore. Because I’ve never seen anything so fragile. So miraculous.
So…mine.
“The heartbeat’s strong.”
A half gasp, half sob escapes me, and I cover my mouth as tears spill free. That sound. That impossibly beautiful sound owns me now.
“Everything looks good,” the doctor says gently. “The hemorrhage is still visible but not expanding. We’ll monitor it. No heavy lifting, no exertion, no stress.”
Anthony nods.
The doctor turns to me again. “We’ll keep you overnight for observation. If there’s no further bleeding or cramping by morning, we’ll reassess. But as of right now…” He glances at the screen. “That heartbeat is the best sign we could hope for.”
He removes the probe, and I flinch, the nurse quickly cleaning the gel and adjusting the sheet over me again, covering the vulnerability I didn’t even realize I felt.
The screen stays lit a moment longer, and I can’t take my eyes off it.
That tinylife.
“Thank you, Dr. Torres,” Anthony says as he steps closer now.
Dr. Torres squeezes my hand, giving me a reassuring smile. “The baby’s fine, Miss Beaumont.”
The baby.
Then he turns to face Anthony. “And I mean it, Dad. No stress.”
Anthony and I look at each other, but before we can correct him, Dr. Torres leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
The silence left behind is louder than the doctor’s voice.
Dad.“We probably should have clarified that part,” I say with a nervous edge.
Anthony sits slowly, dragging the chair closer to the bed, his movements stiff with exhaustion or fear—I don’t know which. Maybe both. He rests his cane against the bed then leans forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together like he’s trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to say. But it’s his eyes that get me. That wrecked, stunned look like he’s still trying to catch up to heartbreak.
“You okay?” His voice is low, his tone careful.
I nod. Sort of. “I don’t know.”
He lets out a long breath, glancing toward the monitor that’s now a screen of black. “A baby.”
I can’t speak. I just press my hand harder to my stomach, even though I feel nothing there. No kick. No flutter. Just the echo of that heartbeat in my ears.
“You’re nine weeks, Everly,” he whispers as if saying it louder would crack the fragile air between us. “That means… it happened on the island.”
I nod again. “I didn’t even think—” My throat closes around the words. “I didn’t think I could…the doctors were so convinced I’ll never…” I suck in a double breath. The reality of it is slow to sink in, yet the relief I feel of knowing I didn’t lose the baby I didn’t know about until just now is…real.
