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The anaesthesia held me under a thick, gray haze. But the ache found a way through anyway. It was a slow, throbbing sensation stretching across my hips, my stomach, my back. It wasn’t sharp or unbearable. Just there enough to remind me of what happened.
I tried to pull myself up through the murkiness, but my eyelashes felt glued together. Every attempt to open them lasted only a second before they drifted closed again. Through the dark, a soft mechanical cadence filled my ears. Beep…beep…beep…
Hospital noises. My nose wrinkled. Hospital smells. I lay perfectly still. My hands trembled as they instinctively tried to find my stomach. The memory rushed back. In startling clarity.
A sob caught somewhere behind my ribs before I even opened my eyes. “Mama?”
Immediately, warm fingers wrapped around my hand.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I forced my eyes open. She looked exhausted. Her dark hair had escaped the neat knot she usually wore. Her mascara had long since disappeared, leaving faint shadows beneath swollen eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
My throat burned, but I forced the air past my lips anyway. “The babies…”
Mum’s face completely crumpled, the lines around her eyes deepened with agonizing sorrow. She leaned over the side-rail of the bed, her movements careful and soft. Her fingers swept the damp strands of hair away from my forehead.
She gathered me close, threading her arms around me as carefully as the IV lines would allow. Warmth encompassed me, along with the familiar scent of her perfume.
“Oh, Bella.”
That was all she could manage. The words broke in her throat. I buried my face in the fabric of her shoulder and let go. The floodgates were wide open, and the flow of tears was endless.
Every low, dull ache in my pelvis was a sentence. Every solitary beat of the heart monitor was a reminder that I was breathing for one now. A reminder that life had slipped through my fingers.
They were gone. My beautiful little girls were gone. A gentle knock sounded against the partially open door. A nurse stepped inside, carrying a small chart. She hesitated, her eyes moving between Mum and me. She offered an apologetic smile.
“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt. There’s a gentleman asking if he might see you. He said his name is Pavel Lenkov.”
My lungs seized, refusing air. A frantic fluttering started behind my ribs, trapping my breath before it could reach my throat. Across the way, the nurse remained still. Waiting.
“He says he’ll only stay a moment if you’ll allow it.”
“No.”
The word came before I realized I’d spoken. My body went rigid, and I clutched the blanket to my body.
“Please…mama. I can’t do it.”
My vocal cords tightened, sealing shut. Every swallow became a desperate, impossible struggle. Right on cue, the beside monitor shattered the silence. It shifted from a steady rhythm into a sharp, rapid spike of alarms. It synchronized with the terror in my throat.
I couldn’t bear to face him. Not now. Not after what I’d done. Or failed to do—protect them.
“Please tell him to go.”
The nurse’s expression softened. “Of course.”
She quietly slipped back out, closing the door behind her. The silence she left behind somehow hurt even more. Fresh tears spilled over. Mum gathered my hand between both of hers.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey.”
“I failed him. I failed them.”
“No.”
“Yeah, Mum. I did.”
“No, Isabella. This was not your fault.”
