But I force myself to stand there.
To breathe.
To stay.
Because if she dies, I die.
And if the baby dies, I don’t know what part of me will be left.
They push a curtain around her waist. Preparing tools I don’t want to look at. They speak in urgent, clipped tones. And she still hasn’t woken up.
I reach out, desperate to touch any part of her not crowded by hands and equipment, but Bram steps between us all, a young woman at his side. “Amaranthine says we need to move a few more steps back, to keep it clean, to avoid infection.”
It’s the only reason I allow my brothers to pull me back, my feet like lead, unable to lift themselves.
“Penelope…” Her name comes out like a prayer I’ve never believed in, a whispered crackle into the heavens.
She doesn’t move. Her breathing becomes shallow. Erratic. Barely there.
And something inside me, some feral, cursed thing, howls silently, wanting to tear the world apart because this wasn’t supposed to happen.
I was supposed to protect her.
I swore I would protect her.
All I’ve done since she arrived here is let her down.
And now my Pair might die on a cold table because she paid the price for my father’s cruelty and my own monstrous love.
Gore grips my shoulder, grounding me before I can sink into the madness clawing up my throat.
“They’ll save her,” he tells me, but his voice shakes, and that tells me everything.
The medic snaps, “We’re losing the baby!”
The room explodes into motion, tools flying into hands, bodies moving with terrifying speed.
My vision blurs.
Everything sounds like buzzing.
My knees buckle, but I stay standing because falling would mean abandoning her, and I’ll never do that again.
Someone lifts a syringe.
Someone else presses something to her stomach.
My breath stops as the medic’s voice cuts through the chaos, “Starting the incision.”
And I am forced to watch, helpless, trembling, half-mad, as the woman I love more than life itself is cut open to save the tiny heartbeat the world hasn’t even heard yet.
I don’t blink.
I don’t breathe.
I don’t pray.
I just stand, drowning in silent, soul-tearing terror, whispering her name over and over, like it might anchor her to the world if I chant it long enough.
