Three months.
That was all it took for Ayla to start believing again.
Not in him. Not completely.
But in the quiet.
In mornings without fear.
In nights without tears.
In the way Damien had begun to wait instead of demand.
She didn't call it love.
She didn't trust it enough for that.
But she stopped flinching when he entered a room.
And that was already too much hope.
That evening, she wasn't supposed to go out.
But she did.
A small shop. A quiet corner.
Her fingers brushed over baby clothes she didn't dare imagine owning.
Until she saw them.
Tiny white socks.
She picked them up, staring longer than she should.
Her lips curved just a little.
"Too soon…" she whispered.
Still, she bought them.
The house was too quiet when she returned.
Not peaceful.
Wrong.
Ayla stepped inside slowly.
"Damien?"
No answer.
Then
a laugh.
Soft. Female.
Her body went still.
She didn't run.
She didn't panic.
She walked.
Slowly.
Quietly.
As if moving too fast would make it real.
The bedroom door was slightly open.
Just enough.
She saw him.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to recognize the closeness.
The familiarity.
The voice he used when he thought no one else was listening.
The same voice he had used with her… in the mountains.
Her fingers loosened.
The bag slipped.
The socks fell to the floor.
She didn't notice.
For a second
she felt nothing.
No anger.
No tears.
Just… silence.
Inside her.
Then her chest tightened.
Air wouldn't come.
Her heart started pounding too fast, too hard, like it was trying to escape her body.
She stepped back.
Once.
Twice.
"No…" she whispered.
Not to him.
To herself.
She turned.
She needed to leave.
She needed distance.
She needed anything but this.
Her foot missed the step.
The world dropped.
Her body lurched forward
A sharp gasp ripped from her throat
Her hand reached for the railing
Missed.
Then
impact.
Hard. Sudden. Violent.
Pain exploded through her body.
Her head spun.
Something inside her twisted deep, wrong, terrifying.
And then
nothing.
When She Woke
The first thing she noticed was the light.
Too white.
Too bright.
Too empty.
Then the silence.
Not around her.
Inside her.
Her hand moved to her stomach.
Instinct.
Hope.
Fear.
Stillness.
Her breath stopped.
"No…"
This time, it came out.
Broken.
The door opened.
Damien walked in.
Perfect as always.
Untouched.
He didn't rush to her.
Didn't ask if she was okay.
Didn't hold her.
He just looked at her.
Cold.
"You lost it."
The words didn't hit immediately.
They sank.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deadly.
Ayla's lips trembled. "Damien… I"
"You were careless."
His tone was flat.
Controlled.
Cruel.
"I fell" she whispered.
"You ran," he cut in.
Her eyes filled. "I saw"
"I don't care what you saw."
Silence.
Sharp. Suffocating.
He stepped closer now.
Not to comfort.
To judge.
"I gave you everything," he said quietly. "And you couldn't even do one thing right."
Her heart cracked open.
Again.
Worse this time.
"That was our child…" she whispered.
"And you lost it."
The final blow.
She stopped speaking.
Stopped explaining.
Stopped trying.
Because nothing she said would matter.
Not to him.
He turned and walked out.
Just like that.
After
Ayla didn't cry.
Not immediately.
Not loudly.
She just stared at the ceiling.
Eyes open.
Unblinking.
The place where something had once existed inside her
now felt empty.
Hollow.
Gone.
And slowly… something else took its place.
Not love.
Not fear.
Something colder.
Something that didn't break.