Chapter 34 - Zalea | Florence
THIRTY-FOUR
ZALEA | FLORENCE
Everything hurts.
That’s the first thought in my mind as I wake up. The pain seeps in with a dull throbbing in my ribs and a sharp pull in my abdomen. My throat feels raw, like I swallowed sand.
I can hear a steady beeping somewhere near my head, but my eyes feel so heavy. I try to lift my hand to rub my eyes, but something heavy presses into it. I try to move my fingers, but it takes a moment before they cooperate, and when they do, I hear a chair scrape.
“Zalea?” The voice sounds hoarse and shocked, and awfully familiar.
It takes a few minutes but I finally force my eyes open, everything blurry for a moment before coming into focus.
I look to my right and find Gabriel sitting beside my bed.
He’s wearing a dark hoodie over his head, eyes wide and glassy, and so tired I’d believe it if someone told me hasn’t slept in days.
Behind him, on a narrow hospital bench, Zale is sprawled out awkwardly, one arm hanging off the side, mouth slightly open as he sleeps.
“You’re awake,” Gabriel breathes.
My lips feel cracked when I try to smile. “You look…terrible.”
He laughs but it breaks in the middle, halfway between relief and heartbreak.
“You’ve been asleep for two days,” he says, leaning forward.
I frown. “Two days?” The words echo strangely in my head. “The last thing I remember is—”
My stomach clenches as I remember the accident, the truck headlights shining directly at me before the violent twist of metal. I instinctively move my hand to rest over my sore abdomen, not missing how Gabriel tenses when he sees it.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice barely coming out.
“You were in an accident," he says gently. “There was internal bleeding and they had to operate.”
My pulse starts to race and my throat feels tight. “And…?” I whisper. “Am I okay now?”
He glances down at my stomach and then back at me.
“Zalea,” he says carefully. “Did you know?”
Did I know what?
A nurse appears at the door, smiling softly when she sees my eyes open. “Ah, you’re finally awake,” she says, her italian accent thick, as she steps inside. “We were hoping today would be the day.”
I look between her and Gabriel with a frown. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
The nurse checks my IV, then the monitor beside me. “You are very lucky,” she says gently. “Very lucky.”
I arch my brow in confusion. What the hell is she on about?
“We discovered that you were pregnant when you arrived,” she continues.
The room goes completely still, the only sound buzzing from the nearby monitors.
“What?” the word leaves my mouth on a breath, and Gabriel’s hand tightens around mine.
“You’re pregnant,” he says, voice trembling. “With twins.”
“But,” I whisper. “But how? My doctor in Hawaii said I wasn’t…the diagnosis…I even had my period—twice.”
I press my palm harder against my abdomen and feel the soreness there.
“They almost…” Gabriel swallows. “We almost lost them.”
My chest fractures open, the pain of losing Gabriella flooding in like a tidal wave.
“They’re still there though?” I ask, not daring to breathe. “They’re still alive?”
The nurse smiles softly. “Yes. It is a miracle. After trauma like that…we do not often see this outcome.”
My tears blur my vision as Gabriel presses his forehead gently to the back of my hand. “They’re fighters,” he whispers, and a sob escapes me before I can stop it.
It’s a strange mixture of joy and terror, because while I’m so happy to be given another chance to have babies, I’m terrified they’ll have the same outcome as Gabriella. I’m also heartbroken that she isn’t here to experience this with us. To be an amazing big sister.
“We want to monitor you closely,” the nurse adds. “There is still risk, especially with your medical history.”
I look at Gabriel and his eyes are red but hopeful. “We’re not going anywhere,” he says immediately.
Behind him, Zale begins to stir. “What’s happening?” he mumbles sleepily. “Do you need another coffee run?”
He rolls over and continues to sleep and I bite back my smile as I look down at my stomach again. Two tiny heartbeats inside of me. My fingers curl protectively over the small curve of my abdomen.
I’m happy. God, I’m so happy. But underneath the joy is a fear so strong it’s almost suffocating, because I’ve been here before, and I know how quickly miracles can disappear.
Gabriel squeezes my hand. “Hey,” he says, like he can read every thought unraveling in my head. “We’ve got this.”
I nod, but inside I’m terrified.
The nurse steps out to page the doctor, leaving me and Gabriel in silence. He hasn’t let go of my hand as he studies me, trying to read what all the emotions flickering across my face must mean.
There’s a soft knock at the door before a doctor walks inside, tablet tucked against her chest.
“Good afternoon, Zalea. I’m very glad to see you awake. My name is Doctor Ricci.”
“Hi,” I murmur.
Gabriel straightens in his chair as she comes closer, and even Zale finally wakes up, staring at me stunned as he sits up on the bench.
“I want to go over everything clearly,” she continues, moving to the side of my bed. “You are approximately seventeen weeks pregnant with dichorionic twins.”
I blink. “Di-what?”
“Two separate placenta,” she clarifies. “This is good news. It means each baby has its own support system, which lowers certain risks.”
Everything she’s saying sounds like good news, but the way she delivers it makes me feel like the bad news is just about to hit.
“But, my doctor in Hawaii said I wasn’t pregnant,” I say. “He did ultrasounds and only found cysts. I even had my period, twice.”
She nods, listening. “In some cases, it can take longer for twins to show up on an ultrasound. However, there could also have been some sort of malfunction with the equipment that was used, I’m not really sure.
But, we usually classify this as a cryptic pregnancy, especially with you still experiencing your period. "
“So, you for sure saw babies?”
“We did,” she nods with a small smile. “But the trauma from the accident caused internal bleeding and significant uterine stress.”
As if my stomach senses that we’re talking about it, it tightens under my hand.
“We are concerned about placental abruption,” she says. “That is when the placenta detaches from the uterus. In twin pregnancies, that risk is already higher. With blunt force trauma, it becomes…very serious.”
“How serious?” Gabriel asks quietly.
“Life threatening. For Zalea and for the babies,” she replies bluntly.
The silence is so heavy, and I feel Gabriel’s hand begin to shake in mine.
I swallow. “Did it detach?”
“Partially,” she says. “One placenta showed signs of early separation but we intervened quickly.”
My pulse pounds in my ears so loudly and painfully, I actually wince.
“And now?” I whisper, bracing myself.
“For now, both heartbeats are strong,” she replies. “But you are not stable in the way we would like.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“With your history of prior loss and now abdominal trauma, you are at increased risk for preterm labour, growth restriction, and further placental complications.”
I let go of Gabriel’s hand, my blood turning cold, and curl my fingers tightly into the hospital blanket.
“How high is the risk?” Gabriel asks.
“With twins, and your recent surgery,” she says, hesitating a moment, “there is approximately a forty percent chance of preterm complications before viability.”
The percentage echoes in my mind, and I feel a tremor begin in my body.
“Are you saying, there’s a chance she could lose the babies? Again?” Zale asks, voice tight.
“I’m saying we monitor her closely,” Doctor Ricci says gently. “Bed rest for now with limited movements, zero stress, and we’ll be doing frequent ultrasounds.”
I could laugh, because my entire life feels like stress. Anytime something starts to go right, something horribly bad comes along to destroy all my happiness.
“And if something goes wrong again?” I ask, forcing myself to look at her.
She holds my gaze without wavering. “Then we intervene again as quickly as we can.”
It’s not the reassuring answer that I’m looking for, and I have to look away, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
Gabriel leans closer to me. “They’re strong,” he says firmly. “They survived a car wreck.”
The doctor nods. “It truly is remarkable. I do not use the word miracle lightly.”
But I can’t let myself be as hopeful as they are. I’m basically being told not to move too much or breathe too hard or else I might lose these babies. My body is failing me when I need it to be strong the most.
“How long until they’re safe?” I ask.
“Twenty-four weeks gives us viability with intensive support,” she says. “Thirty-two weeks significantly improves outcomes. Thirty-six weeks is ideal.”
I do the math. “So, I’ll be here for the majority of my pregnancy?”
I’m only seventeen weeks according to her. That’s months of being here, holding my breath and waiting for something to go wrong. Gabriel must see the fear settling in because he reaches forward and takes my hand again.
“We’ll take it one day at a time,” he murmurs.
“Exactly. One day at a time.” Doctor Ricci nods approvingly. “We will perform another ultrasound in the morning to reassess blood flow and stability,” she says. “For now, rest. Your body needs recovery.”
She gives me one last reassuring smile before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind her. Both Gabriel and Zale remain silent as they watch me, but all I can do is stare at the ceiling as tears begin to stream out of my eyes.
“I can’t lose them,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s hand slides over mine, then slowly down to rest gently over my stomach.
“You won’t,” he says immediately.
“You don’t know that,” I breathe.
“I don’t,” he admits. “But I’ll do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen. You’re not doing it alone this time.”
The words crack something open in me. Last time I grieved and bled alone, but this time I have Gabriel to keep me strong.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Me too.”
And somehow, hearing that makes it less suffocating because shared fear feels lighter than fear carried alone.
But as I rest my hand over my abdomen, one thought settles heavy in my chest—I survived losing one baby. I don’t know if I could survive losing two.