Before I could reach him, he turned and climbed the radiant stairway where several children waited with open arms.
"No! Baby! Don't go!" I screamed, running after him—but the light disappeared, and I fell into darkness.
"Don't!"
I jolted awake with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat, only to find myself lying in a hospital bed.
"Denise, it's alright," Weston's hoarse voice murmured beside me. "We'll have another child."
His red eyes and trembling hands only made the emptiness inside me grow deeper.
My trembling hand touched my belly.
Once round and full of life—now utterly flat.
"My child...my baby…"
Disbelief, pain, and despair surged through me all at once.
"Ah—!"
My scream tore through the sterile ward.
"Denise, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry…"
An's mother held my hand tightly, her face full of guilt and false tears.
But her apology only deepened the knife in my heart.
The memory of their conversation in the ambulance echoed in my ears—and I knew none of it was remorse.
"Get out! Both of you!" I screamed, grabbing anything within reach and hurling it at them.
Weston shielded An's mother, his voice soft and gentle. "Denise, please, don't be like this. You still have us."
"Go away! Go away!"