It was the happiest I’d ever been. Truly. We’d just gotten engaged, the ring sparkling on my finger, a promise of forever. And then, the biggest news, the cherry on top: we were having a baby. Our baby. Our future. I felt like I was floating, dreaming with my eyes wide open. He was ecstatic, beaming, already talking about nurseries and names.
His sister, always so sweet, so supportive, was thrilled for us too. She hugged me tight, told me I deserved all the happiness in the world. She meant it, didn’t she?
We went out to celebrate, just the three of us. A quiet, cozy place, our favorite booth. Laughter, champagne, endless plans. I remember the clinking of glasses, the warmth of his hand in mine under the table.
A lawyer | Source: Pexels
He went to the bar for another round, and his sister followed him, saying she needed to tell him something quickly. They came back, smiles all around. My drink, a sparkling cider since I was pregnant, was waiting.
I took a sip.
It tasted… off. Not like alcohol, just… wrong. Like something had been dissolved in it, bitter and syrupy, hidden beneath the apple. I wrinkled my nose, but dismissed it. Maybe it was just a bad batch, or a weird reaction to my pregnancy hormones. I should have said something. I should have trusted my gut.
The room started to swim almost immediately. Not like too much alcohol, but a wave of dizzying confusion. The lights blurred, voices became distant echoes. My fiancé’s face, etched with sudden concern, swam in and out of focus. I tried to speak, tried to ask what was happening, but my tongue felt thick, heavy. A strange, suffocating warmth spread through my limbs.
Then everything went black.
A close-up shot of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
Waking up was a slow, agonizing process. My head throbbed, a drumbeat of pain behind my eyes. The world was fuzzy, sterile, and smelled faintly of antiseptic. I was in a hospital bed. Alone. Panic clawed at my throat. Where was he? Where was our baby?
A nurse came in, her face kind but grave. She explained what they knew. I’d been found unconscious in the booth. My fiancé and his sister had left, apparently in a rush. They’d called an ambulance, though. She tried to tell me everything was going to be okay, but her eyes gave her away. They held pity.
“What happened?” I whispered, my voice raw. “My baby?”
She sat on the edge of the bed. Her voice was soft, apologetic. “You had a severe reaction to something in your system. We’re not sure what. It caused… a trauma. We did everything we could.”
I LOST THE BABY.
The words hit me like a physical blow. The air left my lungs. No. NO. It couldn’t be. My baby. Our baby. Just days ago, I felt so much life inside me. Now, nothing. Just a hollow ache.
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