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43

Bethany's POV

Recovery was not a straight line. It was messy, uneven, and filled with moments where I felt like I was drowning all over again. My body ached in ways that reminded me of what I'd lost, and my heart… well, my heart felt like it had been shattered and stitched back together with jagged edges.

The first few days after the miscarriage were a blur. Pain. Fatigue. Shame. I spent most of the time in a daze, the healer's cabin becoming both my sanctuary and my prison. Adrian never left my side. He was always there, steady and unwavering, even when I was too weak or too embarrassed to speak.

"Eat," he'd said one morning, holding a bowl of broth out to me.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, turning my face away.

"You need to eat, Bethany," he insisted, his voice gentle but firm. "Your body's been through hell. Let it heal."