Aria's Pov

I thought this day would be the happiest of my life.

For nine long months, I had carried the little life growing inside me. I whispered to him at night, rubbed my belly whenever he kicked, and dreamed of the moment I would finally see his face. I imagined Lucian, my mate, standing beside me, holding my hand proudly, telling me how strong I was and how beautiful our child would be. That was the dream.

But reality was cruel.

The nurse’s hands were shaking as she ran into my room. Her face was pale, her lips were trembling as though she was fighting to breathe. “Aria,” she whispered, panting, clutching her chest like she had run across the entire hospital.

I straightened from the floor, my body still weak from labor, but fear gripped me instantly. Something in her eyes made my blood run cold. “What happened?” I asked, my voice breaking. “What about my baby?”

She shook her head quickly. “I left him in the room. He was fine—he was okay when I stepped out to check on another patient. I swear, Aria, he was breathing and sleeping peacefully. I didn’t take my eyes off him until I left—”

My chest squeezed painfully. “Stop… stop putting me in suspense,” I screamed, tears already spilling down my face. “Tell me! Where is my son?”

The nurse pressed her lips together, her voice shaking as she forced the words out. “Your baby… he’s gone.”

Everything inside me went still. The walls, the floor, the lights above me—they all blurred as though I had fallen into a nightmare I couldn’t escape. My breath hitched in my throat. “No,” I whispered. “No… no, no, no. That’s not possible. He was just here. I just held him!”

Her eyes glistened with tears as she shook her head. “Aria, I’m so sorry. Your baby is dead.”

Dead.

The word tore through me like claws. My knees gave way, and I let out a scream so raw, so broken, I barely recognized it as my own. “No! Moon Goddess, no! Please, no!” My hands clawed at my chest, at my gown, at anything to stop the pain that ripped me apart from the inside.

Yes, I had not even lived an hour with him, but he had lived in me for nine months. I had carried him, loved him, sung to him. And now—gone. My womb felt empty, but it was my heart that bled the most.

I screamed, my cries echoing down the hallway. Nurses tried to hold me, but I pushed them away. “Why?!” I yelled, throwing everything I could reach. “Why now? Why take him from me? What sin did I commit to deserve this?” My hands shook as I gripped the sheets, sobbing like a woman possessed. “He was my baby. Mine. My only joy. My only reason.”

My heart ached so badly I thought I would die right there on that cold hospital floor. I was supposed to be celebrating. I was supposed to be holding him, giving him a name, showing him to the world. Instead, I was crumbling, broken, and my body rocking with grief that words could never hold.

And then—when I thought it couldn’t get worse—I heard his voice.

Lucian.

He bent down calmly, his shadowy figure looming over me. For a fleeting second, my broken soul leapt with hope. He would hold me, wouldn’t he? He would tell me it would be alright, that we could try again, that I wasn’t alone in this.

But no.

He held me, his face was cold and void of the love I once knew. “Sorry for your loss, Aria,” he said flatly, his tone was sharp and lifeless. He placed a set of papers in front of me. “But sign this. You are delaying me.”

My heart froze. “What?” I stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Lucian… our baby just died. I’m broken. I’m shattered. And you—you want me to sign papers now?”

His eyes didn’t soften. “Sign it.”

My lips trembled. “No. No, Lucian. I need you now. Please, don’t do this to me. Not now.” My voice cracked as I reached for him. “You’re my everything. Please. I can’t lose you, too.”

His face darkened, fury flashing across his features. He stood, went to the table, picked up a pen, and shoved it into my hand. He leaned close, his voice becoming a growl that sent fear trembling down my spine. “Sign it. Now.”

Terror gripped me. My whole body shook. My heart screamed against it, but my trembling hands obeyed. I signed the divorce papers while my tears stained the ink.

His voice turned calm, almost satisfied. “Good. That’s better. It’s for the best—for both of us. We shouldn’t stress ourselves any longer.”

I stared at him in disbelief, my body heaving with sobs. “Lucian, please… please, I need you. Don’t leave me like this.”

But he didn’t listen. He straightened his jacket; his face was empty of care. “Pay for the hospital bill. And don’t ever come home again.”

He turned and walked away. His broad back disappeared through the door, and with him, I felt incomplete.

“No!” I screamed, falling to my knees, pounding the floor with my fists. “Please! Don’t go! I need you, Lucian! Please!”

But he was gone.

The room spun as I wept, the cries tearing through my throat until my voice cracked. People gathered, whispers and murmurs filling the hall. Phones came up. Yeah, everybody started recording. They were recording me—recording my shame. While I was on my knees, grieving my baby, begging for my mate, and they watched me like I was a spectacle.

And then I heard it.

“Aria.”

The voice was deep and familiar. I stopped. My heart stuttered as I looked up.

Papa.

My father stood at the doorway, his face hard, his shoulders stiff. My stepmother and stepsister flanked him, both of them wearing expressions that twisted my gut with dread.

Relief surged through me. In my brokenness, I thought maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t alone. I forced myself up My legs were weak, my body was screaming with pain. I staggered forward, reaching for him. “Papa…” My arms opened, desperate for comfort. “Papa, I—”

But before I could even touch him, his hand struck me hard across the face.

The slap echoed, stinging my cheek, my ears ringing from the blow. I froze, my lips trembling, the tears spilling faster.

His voice was filled with venom. “You are a disgrace, Aria!”