Married to the Devil

10

"Pavel, are you okay?" Pooh asked frantically, trying to understand what was happening. His voice was laced with worry as he scanned Pavel's body for injuries.

"M- Miscarriage," Pavel mumbled weakly, clutching his tummy. His legs gave out, and he was about to collapse when Pooh swiftly scooped him up into his arms.

Without a moment's hesitation, Pooh began running towards a rented car, his heart pounding in his chest. He screamed for help, his voice echoing through the quiet evening air. His mind raced, filled with terror and desperation as he carried Pavel, who was slipping in and out of consciousness.

Pooh drove with a singular focus, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he sped toward the nearest hospital. The usually picturesque scenery blurred past them, irrelevant in the face of the emergency they were facing.

"Hang on, Pavel," Pooh whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, just hang on."

Pavel moaned softly, his hand still pressed against his abdomen, the pain evident on his face. Pooh's heart ached at the sight, and he pushed the car to its limits, weaving through traffic with precision and urgency.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital. Pooh carried Pavel inside, shouting for help as soon as they entered the emergency room. Nurses and doctors rushed over, quickly taking Pavel from Pooh's arms and placing him on a gurney.

"Please, help him," Pooh pleaded, his voice choked with emotion.

The medical team worked quickly, assessing Pavel's condition and moving him to the operating room. A nurse guided Pooh to the waiting area, trying to offer some reassurance as the doors closed behind them.

Pooh paced the sterile hallway, his mind a whirlwind of fear and helplessness. Minutes felt like hours as he waited, each tick of the clock amplifying his anxiety. He could still see the image of Pavel's pale face and the blood, a haunting reminder of the fragility of the situation.

Eventually, a doctor emerged, her expression serious but calm. Pooh rushed to her, his heart in his throat. "How is he?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Pooh's shoulder. "Pavel is stable for now. He experienced a miscarriage, but he's going to be okay. We need to keep him here for a few days to monitor his recovery and ensure there are no complications."

Tears of relief and sorrow welled up in Pooh's eyes. "Thank you, doctor. Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but he's resting. Please try to keep him calm and comfortable."

.

.

Pooh nodded, following the nurse to Pavel's room. He entered quietly, his heart aching as he saw Pavel lying in the hospital bed . Pavel was holding his tummy, tears streaming down his face. The pain and fear in Pavel's eyes were almost unbearable for Pooh to witness.

"P-Pavel," Pooh choked out, running to his side and gently holding his hand.

"I-I didn't even know I was pregnant," Pavel sobbed, choking on his tears. "I-I'm sorry, Pooh," he cried harder, his voice filled with anguish and regret.

Pooh, struggling to find the right words, kissed Pavel's hands tenderly. "It's okay," he murmured, though deep down, he was consumed by guilt. He knew that his own actions, driven by his bipolar disorder, had likely contributed to Pavel's miscarriage. The realization that his harshness and instability had cost them their first child was a heavy burden to bear.

They had believed Pavel to be barren at first, undergoing countless medications and treatments over the past year. Their hopes had soared as they tried to conceive, and Pooh had always dreamed of being a father. Now, the dream felt shattered, and he blamed himself for the loss.

"Pavel, I'm sorry for killing our first born," Pooh whispered, his voice trembling as he wiped away his own tears.

"No, honey, d-don't say that," Pavel replied, trying to calm Pooh down despite his own pain. He knew that Pooh's bipolar disorder could spiral out of control with the weight of this guilt. "It's not your fault. Please, don't blame yourself."

Pooh kissed Pavel's forehead, his heart breaking even more. "I'll be back," he said softly, needing to step away before his emotions overwhelmed him completely.

Outside the room, Pooh's facade of strength crumbled. He punched the wall with all his might, his knuckles bruising and splitting on impact. He screamed, the sound filled with raw pain and frustration, tears streaming down his face. The grief and guilt were too much to bear, and he felt as though he was drowning in them.

.

.

.