My eyes locked on his name badge.
Frank Clark, MD.
“I want to see her, Frank,” I said, my voice hoarse, the baby whimpering softly in my arms.
“It’s Dr. Clark,” he corrected, almost by reflex.
“Fine, chum,” I spat. “Take me to my lover.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest again.
“Now.”
He flinched at my tone, then nodded and motioned for me to follow.
The hospital room was chaotic. Nurses were rushing to clean, their gloves stained red, and whispers were exchanged behind masked faces.
And in the center of it all… Scarlett.
Still. Pale. Eyes fixed on the ceiling like she was staring through the veil.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
She was gone.
Holding my child, I stood in the doorway, horror and sorrow seeping from every pore. I wanted to move, to scream, to undo everything—but I was paralyzed in place by the sheer magnitude of loss.
Slowly, I stepped into the room, eyes locked on Scarlett’s still body. I placed the baby beside her, hoping—foolishly—that somehow she might awaken. But she didn’t stir.
She was so beautiful, even in death.
I reached for her hand, cold and limp in mine. The tears came without restraint, soaking my face and falling to the floor. She was gone. And nothing would ever fill that hollow space again.
Dr. Clark’s voice interrupted the moment.
“You shouldn’t have had a home birth,” he said, his tone clipped. “At the very least, you should’ve called a midwife.”
My head snapped toward him.
“It was our choice,” I growled. “Our decision.”
He didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, but she had a chance. If you had brought her here sooner—if you hadn’t risked a home birth—she might still be alive.”
That was it.
I lunged at him, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him back. My fists trembled. My teeth clenched. Heat radiated off my skin as if my grief had turned to fire.
“You should’ve done more,” I spat, voice breaking. “You’re the doctor! You were supposed to save her!”
The words tore out of me, ragged and raw.
Beside me, the baby wailed, tiny limbs flailing as if mourning with me.
Dr. Clark’s voice thundered through the room. “Call security! I need help in here—now!”
The nurses bolted, nearly stumbling over one another as they fled, wide-eyed and pale.
I released him, and a haunting silence settled over the room.
