Linda stopped understanding language after that. She heard the officer speaking, explaining procedures, next steps, where to go. None of it felt real. She had kissed Daniel goodbye that morning. He was supposed to come home that night. He was supposed to become a father.
She flew back that evening in a state beyond shock. She did not cry on the plane. She could not. Her mind refused to accept what had happened. But when she reached the hospital and saw Daniel’s body, pale and motionless, something inside her shattered so violently that she collapsed to the floor screaming.
They sedated her. Put her in a bed. And only then did she remember.
The baby.
She was pregnant. She needed them to check the baby.
A doctor performed an ultrasound while Linda watched his face with desperate terror. He was gentle. Quiet for too long. Then he said the words that changed her life a second time.
“I’m very sorry. You’ve miscarried.”
The shock. The trauma. The stress. Her body had not been able to hold on.
In a single day, Linda lost her husband, her child, and the future she had believed in only hours earlier.
She stayed in the hospital three days, hollowed out beyond tears.
On the second day, Gloria arrived.