offshore | h.s

51

GENEVIEVE CLARK

As I stand in the kitchen, my hands trembling, I can barely find the strength to voice the words that fill me with dread. "I'm bleeding," I manage to choke out, my voice wavering with fear.

Harry's reaction is swift, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, his hands moving with purpose as he passes Avery to Amber. "Let's get you to the hospital, okay?" His voice is steady, but I can hear the underlying tension in his words.

Every step feels like a struggle as I follow Harry out of the house, my stomach twisted with pain and anxiety. The drive to the hospital is a blur, the only sound is the frantic beating of my heart as I cling to the hope that everything will be okay.

We rush into the hospital waiting room, and my heart pounds with fear, my hands trembling at my sides. I glance at Harry, his brow furrowed with worry, and I can see the stress etched in every line of his face.

Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a long, tight hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively. I bury my face in his chest, the tears already streaming down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Harry," I choke out between sobs, my voice barely audible over the din of the bustling hospital.

Harry's grip tightens around me, his voice thick with emotion. "It'll be okay, baby, it's not your fault," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to my shattered heart. But I can feel the tension radiating from him, his worry mirroring my own.

A nurse notices us huddled together, our faces stained with tears, and she approaches with a gentle smile. After Harry explains she says, "Come with me," and leads us into a private room.

The nurse helps me settle into the hospital bed, and Harry never leaves my side, his grip on my hand firm and reassuring. But as the reality of our situation sinks in, tears stream down my cheeks uncontrollably. Harry's voice breaks through the chaos, his words a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. "It's okay, it's okay, I promise you," he murmurs, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

I can't hold back the flood of emotions any longer, and I whisper to Harry through choked sobs, "I don't want to lose our babies." The words hang heavy in the air, filled with fear and desperation. This can't be happening, not to us, not now. 

The nurse, Jess, introduces herself as she begins to take care of us. I nod, trying to steady my trembling hands. The hospital room feels suffocating, the sterile scent of antiseptic hanging heavy in the air.

As Jess prepares to do the ultrasound, I exchange a worried glance with Harry, silently pleading for reassurance. But as the images flicker onto the screen, my heart sinks. Jess's voice is gentle but somber as she confirms our worst fears. "I'm so sorry," she says softly, her words like a dagger to my heart. "You are miscarrying baby A, your little boy."

A gasp escapes my lips as tears blur my vision. 

A boy. Our little boy. 

We were going to have a boy.

The weight of the loss crashes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me gasping for breath. Harry's grip on my hand tightens, his eyes reflecting the same anguish that grips my soul. "Surely you can do something, right? Please," Harry's voice is desperate, pleading with Jess for a miracle.

But her response is a solemn shake of the head. "I'm so sorry," she repeats, her expression mirroring our devastation. "There is really nothing we can do." I feel Harry's hand squeeze mine tighter, his silent support a lifeline in the midst of the storm raging within me. "A boy," I whisper, the words heavy with sorrow and longing.

My heart pounds in my chest as I blur out the question that's been gnawing at my soul. "Is the other baby okay?" My voice trembles with fear, my eyes locked on the ultrasound screen.