Chapter 1
Chapter
One
THEA
Now
I need you. It’s important.
Isend the text through to Dylan, my hands shaking as my whole body goes numb in disbelief.
Never in a million years did I think Lucas was capable of this.
Never did I think he was the kind of person who could do this after everything we’ve already been through.
My phone chimes and I immediately open it:
What’s going on? Are you okay?
I don’t know how to answer her, tears pooling in my eyes as I try to figure out what to say.
Because the truth is so much harder than a lie.
But this is something I can’t get through on my own.
I barely survived by myself last time, and I know it wasn’t her fault.
She had her own stuff going on, her own trauma to heal. But now…
I’m not okay. I need you. Can you come home?
She replies back instantly.
We’re on our way.
Collapsing backward against the cushions of our couch, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
The house is quiet aside from my breathing as I rest my hand on my flattened belly.
Nothing will ever be as painful as losing her, but this betrayal comes in a close second.
I close my eyes, just hoping to gather a few moments of rest, to drown out the chaos bouncing back and forth inside of my skull, but instead I drift off into an exhausted kind of sleep.
“Lucas, I think something’s wrong.” Ever since I was diagnosed with fetal growth restriction, everything has worried me. I’ve tried not to, but WebMD has been both my best friend and my worst enemy.
He walks into the bedroom, peeking his head around the door jamb. I have no idea how he managed to get leave, but I’m grateful he will be here for the birth of our daughter. “What is it?”
“I haven’t felt her move in several hours and she’s usually so active.
I also noticed blood when I went to the bathroom.
I think we should go to the hospital.” I was really trying not to let my anxiety get the best of me, in case nothing was wrong and I did end up putting myself into labor due to pure stress.
He smiles at me, before coming to sit on the bed beside me. “This has happened before. We’ve been getting ultrasounds every week, I’m sure everything is just fine. It’s probably
pre-labor nerves. Maybe your body is preparing itself sooner than anticipated. But if you feel like we need to go, we can.” A part of me didn’t want to overthink it, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to rest peacefully until I had an answer. “I want to go…”
And thirty minutes later we were sitting in a room in my provider’s office waiting to get an ultrasound done.
It always feels like it takes forever to be seen when you’re holding your breath, wondering if something is wrong or not.
But in reality, it had only been fifteen minutes before they called us back.
I released a shaky breath, taking Lucas’s hand in mine as we walked down to the radiology room.
The cold air hits me like a wave as I climb onto the examination table, feeling the uncomfortable coolness of the paper sheet beneath me.
Lucas stands next to me, a hand on my shoulder, trying to offer comfort even though I can feel his own tension radiating off of him.
His usual confidence is replaced with quiet concern as the ultrasound tech places the wand on my belly.
The technician, a woman with short, dark hair and kind eyes, maneuvers the wand across my belly as I strain to listen to the rhythmic whoosh of it as it spans the surface of my stomach.
But when the technician’s eyes flicker to the screen, I notice a shift in her expression.
It’s subtle, but I see it. She pauses, then quickly moves the wand, adjusting the view.
My heart starts pounding and I try to steady my breathing, but I can’t.
Lucas leans closer, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand.
“Is everything okay? he asks, his voice quiet but steady.
The technician doesn’t immediately answer him, and continues to maneuver the wand.
But finally she looks up, her expression neutral, but I can see the caution that lingers there.
“I need to get the doctor,” she says quietly, stepping out of the room before either of us can say a word.
I squeeze his hand tighter as our eyes search each other.
“Lucas…what if something’s wrong? What if…
what if we lose her?” He leans over and kisses my forehead, being my anchor amongst the storm of my emotions.
His hand strokes the side of my face. “We don’t know anything yet.
It could be nothing. Just breathe.” I nod, trying to hold onto his words, but they don’t feel like enough as my mind spirals.
The door swings open suddenly, and my doctor walks in. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes scan the screen as she takes the seat beside me. She adjusts the machine and checks the settings before looking at me. “How are you feeling?” she asks, but there’s something hidden in her voice.
“I’m scared.” My voice cracks.
She nods before looking back at the screen. “I’m going to take another look at the baby’s heartbeat.”
The room falls silent as she repeats the same movements the technician did. Seconds pass. Then minutes. I feel the weight of her gaze, but there’s no sound—no heartbeat, no reassuring rhythm. The monitor is silent.
My chest tightens, the panic beginning to rise. I search Lucas’s face, but he’s pale, his eyes wide, and I can see the same fear reflected in him that’s rapidly consuming me.
The doctor finally puts the wand away and looks at me with a gentle sorrow in her eyes, and I already know what she’s going to say. “There’s no heartbeat, Thea. I’m so sorry.”
The room spins, and the blood drains from my face as I reach for Lucas’s hand again, but my fingers feel numb. This can’t be real. I thought…I thought she was fine. I thought we were almost there. We’ve been getting ultrasounds every week. I just felt her move earlier this morning.
Lucas’s voice is shaky, but he’s holding it together, his hand gripping mine tightly as if to keep me tethered to the reality we’re in. “No…no, that can’t be. Are you sure?”
The doctor nods slowly, her eyes filled with empathy. “I’m so sorry. We’ll need to confirm it with another test, but it doesn’t look good.”
My entire world narrows, the edges of everything around me blurring as I try to comprehend the words she’s just spoken.
“No heartbeat,” I repeat, the words poison on my tongue, feeling like a cruel mockery of everything I’ve hoped for.
And in that moment, all I can think is ‘what did we do to deserve this’?
I wake up drenched in sweat, my face wet, but from silent tears as I dreamt of the worst moment of our life all over again—or should I say my life.
The sun has started to set and Lucas wasn’t coming home, not until I was gone.
He made that clear when he told me to pack my shit and that he wanted me out.
The fucking audacity. I had a lot to be upset about, but the fact that he even suggested any of this was my fault…
I choke on more tears as they threaten to rise.
It’s like he was an entirely different person, the man that I married so far removed from his old self that I find myself stirring with regret at making the decision at such a young age.
I should’ve listened when everyone told me to give it some more time, but we were hopelessly in love.
High school sweethearts. The honeymoon phase didn’t end until the life of our daughter did.
And even then, I thought that we could get through anything together. How wrong was I?
A sob leaves me; my body wracked with the emotional weight of everything that’s gone wrong.
The pain is a constant echo in my chest, a reminder of everything I’ve lost—of everything that never had the chance to grow.
I never wanted it to be like this. The thought of it never even crossed my mind.
Why would it? How did it go from dreams of a future with a family to this dark, suffocating reality?
The house feels eerily empty without Lucas, and I can only hope that Dylan and Fletcher get here soon.
I glance at the clock, feeling the weight of the time slipping by, of how many moments I’ve wasted crying over things I can’t change.
It’s hard to breathe here, in this house that used to feel like a sanctuary but now feels more like a prison.
I try to focus on the present, but it’s impossible when the ghosts of everything that once was—and everything that never will be—lurk in every corner.
The way Lucas looked at me when he walked out, cold and distant, like I had become nothing more than a problem he couldn’t fix, haunts me.
His words, the sharpness of them, still cut through me like blades, and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.
I try to remind myself that he’s hurting too, that he’s grieving in his own way, but it’s hard to accept the man I thought I knew has become a stranger in so many ways.
Ways that only furthered our pain. But yet, it’s somehow my fault.
A part of me wants to reach out—again. But he hasn’t answered my last several calls or texts, and I’m tired of trying.
I stand up, my legs shaky, my mind a whirlwind of confusion.
Maybe in some really messed up way, this is a good thing. A chance to start over. A way to figure out how to breathe without drowning in this grief. I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t keep lying to myself and pretend that everything is fine when I’m slowly falling apart.
Which is why I need Dylan. If anyone knows how to get through hard things, it’s her.