He Realized That I Was Pregnant

The biting wind whipped the freezing rain against my fragile body, rendering the small umbrella in my hand useless. I trudged through the downpour, my soaked clothes clinging to my shivering skin like heavy sheets of ice. Every step forward on the dark, flooded road felt like a monumental battle against the elements. The physical exhaustion forced upon me by Damian was rapidly catching up. Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain erupted deep in my lower belly. I gasped, the cold air burning my lungs. The agony was blinding. It forced me to drop my umbrella and fall to my knees, squatting by the side of the flooded asphalt. I curled my arms around my stomach, desperate for the cramps to subside. I reached frantically into my wet pocket, praying my fingers would brush against my phone to call for help. My heart plummeted into my stomach. I had foolishly left my dead phone inside the broken-down car miles back.

The rain continued to pelt me without mercy, but a layer of cold sweat broke out across my pale forehead, mixing with the downpour. Then, a horrific sensation brought my racing thoughts to a halt. I felt a terrifying, unmistakable warm flow between my legs. Paralyzing panic gripped my heart. Blood. I was bleeding. The realization set in: I might actually be losing my precious, six-week-old child right here on the wet asphalt. I hugged my knees tighter, shivering as tears mingled with the rain on my face. An old poem claimed girls were made of sugar, spice, and everything nice—destined to be cherished like angels. I laughed bitterly through my chattering teeth. Some girls were simply born for disaster, unending pain, and tragic partings. I was clearly one of them, trapped in an existence where I had no choice in the matter.

Through my growing, sickening dizziness and the blinding sheet of rain, the sudden roar of a powerful engine abruptly cut through the howling storm. I weakly forced my heavy head up to look. Piercing through the darkness and the heavy deluge were the glaring headlights of a massive black jeep. Through my blurry vision, the license plate came into sharp focus: TGL999. It was Damian Ashford. Knowing deep in my soul that he had come out into the storm specifically to search for me, a flicker of desperate hope ignited in my chest. I summoned every last ounce of my fading strength. I pressed my numb palms against the wet asphalt and pushed myself up to stand. However, the immense physical toll was simply too much for my battered body. The moment I locked my knees, vertigo hit me. I lost my balance and began to fall backward toward the unforgiving wet concrete.

"Stupid woman!" his low, cold voice snapped sharply near my ear. The tone was devoid of comfort, but it held a raw urgency. Before my head could hit the ground, Damian's strong arms caught me. His grip was rigid as he lifted my freezing, limp body effortlessly into the warm, dry cabin of his jeep. The abrupt shift from the freezing storm to the heated interior overwhelmed my failing senses, and within seconds, my world faded to black.

Some unknown time later, I woke up disoriented. I blinked against the harsh light, staring blankly at the stark, bright white ceiling of a hospital room. The sharp, bitter smell of disinfectant assaulted my senses. Without even processing my surroundings or how I got here, maternal instinct took over. My hand darted down to clutch my lower belly in sheer panic.

"Don't worry, your child is fine!" a calm, reassuring voice announced from the side of the room.

Startled, I turned my head. Simon Cross stood near the bed, dressed in his doctor's coat. My throat was far too raw and dry to question why he was standing vigil here instead of Damian, the man who had rescued me from the storm. I managed a weak, raspy grunt, trying to push myself upright.

Ignoring my attempts to physically resist and pull away from him, Simon stepped forward. He reached behind my back, gently propped my upper body against the pillows, and firmly held a warm glass of water to my cracked lips. I reached out to take the cup with my trembling hands, but he pulled it slightly out of my reach.

"Drink it!" he commanded with a doctor's unquestionable authority, refusing to let me hold it.

Lacking the strength to argue, I parted my lips. After taking a few soothing sips from his hand, the burning in my throat eased. He pulled the glass away and allowed me to lay back against the pillows.

"Thank you," I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

Simon gave a calm, noncommittal hum. "Mmhm." He sat back, his eyes remaining fixed on the screen of his phone as he feigned disinterest.

However, I hesitated, my mind racing at a million miles an hour. The secret of my six-week pregnancy was officially out; the hospital doctors had clearly detected it. Damian had been the exact person who rescued me from the flooded road yesterday. If Simon, as a doctor, knew about the pregnancy now, it was almost a certainty that Damian knew about it too. I was terrified of Damian discovering this secret, my mind replaying every cruel thing he had done to me.

Terrified of the implications, I broke the silence. "Does Damian know about the child?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Simon slowly stopped playing with his phone. He lowered the device, his sharp, dark eyes locking intensely onto mine. He squinted slightly, analyzing my fearful expression, and asked a probing question.

"You don't want him to know about it?"