Lost Me Gained Regret

After what felt like an eternity of darkness, I woke up parched, but the relief that washed over me when I felt my baby still safe inside was enough to push me to sit up, reaching for a glass of water. That's when Christine burst back into the room, swiftly taking the glass from my hand.

"Let me," she insisted, her voice laced with urgency. "You stay put until Dr. Adams checks on you."

Seeing the worry etched on her face, and fearing for my baby's well-being, I reluctantly laid back down.

Christine returned with a glass of warm water, carefully adjusting the pillows behind me so I could sit up comfortably.

I couldn't help but protest, "You don't have to fuss so much; I'm not that frail."

But Christine fixed me with a stern look. "Don't pretend you're okay just for my sake. We've been friends for years; I know you better than that."

I took a sip of water, hiding the sorrow in my eyes, and changed the subject. "How's Greg?"

"Running a high fever, in the next room," she replied, curtly cutting off any response I might have had.

because I know no words can truly share your pain. No comfort words can bring

promises about moving on or not dwelling on it.

keep going like this. I'm not using your baby as leverage, but you said it yourself-you want to keep her. That means you need to be there

have to

in is only going to hurt you, the baby, and Greg. And all of us who care about

continue her

don't take care of yourself, not even Dr. Adams

you, risking his

can't get through to you, maybe it's a sign

was silent, lost in thought. I had never imagined Grandma leaving

of Victor

was gone before I could settle anything. And now, with my baby on the line, I didn't have the luxury to grieve properly. Pulling myself out of the deep sorrow was

I finally spoke, "I

lack of strength, and