~Alexa

“No… No!” I cried, dragging myself across the floor after Justin, my body scraping against the cold tiles. But he ignored me, turning his back, his ears deaf to my desperation.

I couldn't lose my child. Not now. Not ever. He was my first fruit, the light I wanted to bring into this world. But Justin had made his choice. He believed his deceitful mistress over me. Worse, he wanted our baby dead.

Before I could process it, his armed guards surrounded me. Rough hands seized mine, forcing me toward the ward.

“Let me go! I don't want a transfusion! Somebody help me!” I screamed, struggling, but no one came.

Then the doctor stepped forward, pulling out a dose. I froze, my sobs catching in my throat as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“What’s that for? Are you planning to knock me out with your damn drugs?” I spat, my voice shaking with fury.

He didn’t respond. He wouldn’t even look at me. Instead, he turned to the guards.

“Hold her tighter. She mustn’t escape,” he instructed coldly, preparing the syringe.

Is he really going to–

Before I could finish the thought, the needle pierced my skin. Darkness swallowed me whole as I fell unconscious.

***

When I came to, I was lying flat in a hospital ward. The walls were white, the air cool, footsteps fading in the distance. My eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was the ceiling.

I ached everywhere. My body was heavy, drowning in pain and confusion. What happened? How did I get here?

Then it hit me, the injection.

And with that thought came the panic.

My baby.

I jolted upright and clutched my belly. “My baby…” I whispered, my voice brittle. I looked down.

Blood. Dried between my thighs.

I touched it, trembling. My fingers came away red.

There was blood.

A scream ripped from my throat. “No! No…” My voice echoed off the sterile walls as I stared at my hands, stained with loss.

The door creaked open. A woman in a white coat stepped in. She turned out to be one of the doctors.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Milton?” she asked gently. “I was just out getting some clothes to clean you up, but I see you're already—”

“Where is my baby?” I cut her off, my voice sharp and trembling.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. Her face tightened, lips parting as if to speak but I wasn’t done.

“I asked you a question,” I said again, my tone rising. “Where. Is. My. Baby?”

Her expression changed instantly as remorse crept in, softening her features. Still, she hesitated.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Milton…” she began, her voice laced with emotion. “The transfusion... it had complications. There was a severe reaction, and… we couldn’t save the child. I’m afraid… you may never be able to conceive again.”

Her words slammed into me like bricks. I stared at her, stunned, the tears gathering, refusing to fall at first.

And then, I laughed. A hollow, bitter sound.

“You’re lying,” I said through a cracked smile. “This is a joke, right? Tell me you're joking, Doctor.”

I wiped at my face, as tears finally slipped free.

“Come on. Just say it. You’re trying stand-up comedy. You’re rehearsing. I haven’t lost my child…”

I grabbed her hands, desperate.

“You’re wrong, right? I'm still pregnant. Right?”

But she shook her head, slowly. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Milton. The child is gone. You lost him.”

Her voice broke into a sob. But I didn’t hear anything after that.

Gone.

My son was gone.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched my stomach. I thought of the joy I’d felt when I first discovered I was pregnant. The hope. The plans I made for us, for the future. I thought he would fix things between me and Justin.

I let out a strangled laugh as I reached for the sonogram photo. Holding the x-ray up, I wept.

He was there moving around just moments ago. But now…

…he is gone.

I gathered my things in silence, too shattered to speak. Just as I turned to leave, the doctor called softly.

“Mrs. Milton…”

I stopped cold.

“Don’t ever call me that again!” I snapped, turning on her with a finger pointed to her face. “I am not Mrs. Milton. You’ll call me Alexa. Alexa Sullivan.”

My voice crackled with fury.

Justin’s name was a curse in my ears.

I walked out of the hospital and headed straight to the cemetery. There, I burned the sonogram and placed the ashes in a box.

Clutching it tightly, I cried. I couldn’t stop. The pain of every mother is watching her child die helplessly right before her eyes. That was my pain. I saw it happen. I saw his father kill him. And I couldn’t do a damn thing.

But like they say, every mistake… has its consequences. One way or another.

Holding my son’s ashes, I trembled with rage.

“I’ll make you proud, baby,” I whispered. “Everyone who hurt you, they'll pay. They will all pay…”

“Who will pay, Alexa?”

A voice snapped me out of my haze. I looked up.

Justin.

He stood a few feet away, hand-in-hand with Gia. But what caught my attention was the envelope clenched in his other fist.

A hospital report, if I wasn’t mistaken.

I turned to leave. I didn’t want to hear him. See him.

But he stepped in front of me and shoved me back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, huh?”

“Get out of my way, Justin. I’m not in the mood for this. You already killed my child. What more do you want from me?”

He threw the envelope down between us.

“There! Gia, take a look. Go ahead and tell her what that paper means!”

I bent, picked it up, heart thudding.

“What’s in here, Justin? What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“That is the result of the paternity test I ran on you and your silly baby! This idiot in that box doesn't even belong to me. You lied to my face and cheated with another guy!”