Abort the child

Lydia

I woke to the sharp sting of something cold piercing my skin. A prickling sensation spread across my body, the needle in my vein barely registering beneath the numbness weighing me down.

A slow, steady drip. Something icy flowed into me.

The scent of disinfectant was suffocating—sharp and medicinal, coating my throat. I tried to breathe, but the air felt too sterile, too foreign.

The beeping of machines echoed in the room, steady and rhythmic, a cruel reminder that I was still here. Alive.

Distant voices murmured around me. Blurred. Rushed.

I wanted to move. To open my eyes. But my body remained heavy, unresponsive.

Somewhere in the haze, footsteps pounded against the floor. Urgent. Desperate.

"Where is she?"

That voice.

I tried to call out to him, but my lips wouldn't move. My fingers twitched, but I couldn't reach for him.

The door burst open. More footsteps. The sharp scrape of a chair dragged closer. A pause—just long enough to feel his presence hover over me.

"…Dia?"

A tremor laced his voice, raw and breaking at the edges. And then—warmth. A sudden, desperate grip on my hand, like he was afraid I would slip through his fingers if he let go.

Theo...

I didn't need to open my eyes to recognize him. The scent of his cologne, the weight of his presence, the way he always touched me as if reassuring himself I was real—it was unmistakable.

"Lydia, please… I'm here. I'm right here."

Someone murmured something about blood loss, stabilizing, rest. But all I could focus on was the way his fingers trembled against mine.

"I swear, Dia…" His voice was a whisper, hoarse and raw. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I wanted to answer him. I wanted to say his name.

But the darkness pulled me under again.

....

The next time I woke, the world was eerily still.

The bright, artificial hospital lights were dimmed to a soft glow. Shadows stretched long across the walls, distorting shapes, making everything feel slightly unreal.

My body ached—a deep, dull kind of pain, like I had been thrown into a storm and barely survived. The smell of antiseptic was still there, clinging to everything, coating my throat like a bitter aftertaste.

I shifted slightly, and that was when I felt it…

Warmth.

Fingers tightly wrapped around mine, like a silent anchor.

My heart stuttered.

I turned my head, blinking away the haze, and saw him.

Theo.

Both of his hands were clasping mine, gripping them so tightly, as if letting go wasn't an option.

His head was bowed, his hair messy, strands falling over his forehead. His clothes—wrinkled, like he hadn't moved from this spot in hours.

His breath was uneven, chest rising and falling in deep, shaky intervals.

"Theo…?"

My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but his head snapped up immediately.

And then I saw it.

The sheer devastation in his eyes. 

His pupils were blown wide, rimmed with red, like he had cried. His jaw clenched, his throat worked like he was swallowing something heavy.

And then, before I could say anything else, he clasped my hand tightly, just holding it there, as if grounding himself, as if he was afraid that if he let go, I would vanish again.

"…Dia."

A shiver ran through me at the way he said it—rough, raw, almost pleading.

"I'm so damn sorry." His forehead pressed against the back of my hand, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have protected you." His voice broke at the edges. "But I didn't. I let things get to this point. I neglected you. I—" He exhaled harshly. His thumb brushed against my knuckles, as if afraid I'd disappear if he didn't hold on tighter.

My chest tightened.

This wasn't just guilt. This was fear.

The kind that lingered. The kind that had already sunk deep into his bones. 

"Theo…" I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through me. My breath caught, and instantly, his hands were on my shoulders, pressing me down gently.

"Don't," he whispered, urgent, almost frantic. "You need to rest. Don't move too much."

I stared at him, trying to read the storm raging beneath the surface.

"Theo, I—"

"I thought I lost you." His voice was softer this time, but the weight behind it was crushing. He let out a bitter laugh, one that held no humor. "No. I almost did. And it made me realize just how badly I've taken you for granted."

I shook my head weakly. "Theo, you didn't—"

"Yes, I did," he interrupted, voice low, almost self-loathing. ""I let work, the company—everything—consume me. I made you feel unwanted and left out. Do you know how many times I told myself 'I'll make it up to her later'? And then later never came."

I swallowed, my throat raw.

His jaw clenched, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "And you got hurt. You almost…" His voice hitched, and for a second, he just closed his eyes, as if trying to pull himself together.

A heavy silence hung between us.

I should say something. Should tell him he didn't have to blame himself. That this was an accident. That I didn't want him drowning in regret like this.

But when I looked at him—really looked at him—I realized…

He was already drowning.

And the only thing I could do was pull him closer, without words, without explanations.

"I'm here," I murmured, squeezing his hands as much as I could manage. "I'm still here, Theo."

His breath shuddered.

And for the first time since I woke up, his expression eased—just barely.

He didn't speak after that. He just sat there, holding my hand, watching over me, like if he took his eyes off me for even a second, I would disappear. 

And somehow, despite the lingering pain, despite everything—I fell asleep feeling safer than I had in days. 

— 

Sunlight streamed through the hospital window, spilling over the white sheets in golden hues. The rhythmic beeping of machines filled the air, blending into the sterile silence of the room. The warmth of Theo's hand was still there, his fingers loosely entwined with mine, but his grip had softened in his sleep.

He looked exhausted. His head rested on the mattress beside me, his dark hair disheveled, deep shadows carved beneath his eyes. He stayed awake all night.

The thought made something warm curl in my chest. 

A soft knock on the door broke the quiet. Theo stirred instantly, snapping awake like he had never truly been asleep. His fingers tightened around mine again—instinctive, like a silent reassurance.

The doctor walked in, flipping through a file, his expression neutral but observant.

"Miss Ashford," he greeted with a polite nod. "You're looking much better."

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks to the rest."

Theo straightened beside me, his presence grounding, though I could still feel the exhaustion rolling off him. His fingers twitched against mine, but he didn't let go.

The doctor hummed, scanning the papers in his hand. "Your injuries aren't too severe, but you'll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. You're still weak, and in your condition, any stress or strain could be dangerous."

I frowned slightly. "Condition?" 

Theo beat me to it. "What condition?" His voice was sharp, clipped. 

The doctor paused. His gaze flickered between us, slight surprise crossing his face. "…Oh. You weren't informed yet?" 

There was a heartbeat of silence. 

And then—

"Congratulations," the doctor said, offering a small smile. "You're pregnant."

The words landed like a crash of thunder.

Pregnant.

The world tilted for a moment. My breath caught. My fingers instinctively pressed against my stomach, as if seeking confirmation from my own body.

Pregnant. I'm pregnant.

The doctor continued speaking.

"Given your current state, you'll need to be extremely careful," he continued, voice firm yet gentle. "Your body is still weak, and the risk of miscarriage is high. You need rest—both physically and emotionally. No unnecessary stress, no exertion. Take care of yourself, Miss Ashford."

Take care of myself.

The words barely registered through the haze of my thoughts.

A child....

I was still trying to grasp it when the doctor closed the file, offering a reassuring nod. "I'll leave now. The nurses will check in on you later."

And just like that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence settled over the room.

I exhaled shakily, my mind spinning. This was… unexpected. Terrifying. But beneath the shock, something warm flickered to life in my chest—something fragile yet uncontainable.

I turned to Theo, my heart in my throat.

"Theo… we're going to be parents."

I expected something. Anything. A flicker of shock, hesitation, maybe even the quiet kind of happiness that came with disbelief. Just something eerily blank.

But instead—

Theo didn't move.

He sat there, still as stone, his expression unreadable.

His fingers, which had clung to mine all night, slowly slackened. Not all at once—bit by bit, as if releasing a weight he no longer wanted to hold.

A cold emptiness seeped into the space between us.

I blinked, confused. "Theo…?"

He finally looked at me then. But his eyes—those same eyes that had held so much desperation, so much fear when he thought he was losing me—were blank.

Detached.

And then, in a voice so calm, so devoid of any emotion, he spoke," Abort it."

The warmth that had been blooming inside me froze.

A chill crept down my spine.

I stared at him, waiting for a hint of hesitation, a flicker of doubt. There was none, which made my heart lurch like it had been ripped out of my chest.

For a second, I thought I had misheard. That he didn't just say what I thought he did.

But his expression remained cold, unmoving.

No hesitation.

No remorse.

Just two words.

Flat. Absolute.

Abort it.

As if this life meant nothing.

As if I meant nothing.