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.

she continued, her tone softening, "I haven't said much before because I know no words

I didn't feed you empty promises about moving on or not dwelling on it. But I can't stay silent

means you need to be there for her, or else, make the hard choice now." "Don't let her suffer with you. It'll only hurt you both

don't have to cry, but

going to hurt you, the baby, and Greg. And all of us

breath, ready to continue her plea, raised my hand

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

to stay strong for you, risking his own

it's a sign

never imagined Grandma

care of

the line, I didn't have the luxury to grieve properly. Pulling myself out of the deep

spoke, "I

of strength, and wheeled me to