Emancipating The Love (On-going)

Chapter 37

Choice

Lea's hands were clutching the comforter as though her life depended on it. She attempted to brace herself by slow, controlled and deep breaths like every heave could slow down time and maybe freeze it, stopping Adhira from saying her next statement.

But how could that happen when her effort wasn't even enough to calm her racing heart, nor was it sufficient to prepare her. Because nothing could prepare Lea for the news she was telling herself she won't hear, a possibility she tried considering but couldn't acknowledge.

Nothing could prepare a mother who's about to find out that she lost her child.

"I-I'm sorry, but—" Adhira's voice travelled with the blowing of the air-conditioner. It was barely audible, hardly beyond a whisper, but for Lea, it was defeaning. Like it had smacked her eardrums with the weight of the unfinished news.

It was louder than anything, even louder than the banging of her heart that echoed like drums, reverberating through her whole system like each strong thud against her chest was a reminder that she wasn't numb, that everything was as real as her existent—as real as the pain that lingered like a gnawing sensation.

Her ears were ringing as she shook her head as though shrugging the initial thought, one she was anticipating but she was refusing to accept.

How could a mom accept the fact that she just lost her child?

"N-no." The word came out like a breath, like it was all she could say in that moment as she poured all her energy in that one word. It was a desperate response, as though denying it would alter the reality of the situation.

She grasped the comforter with such force as if it could absorb the excruciating pain that kept on striking, like a bolt of lightning that crippled throughout her entirety, shaking her entire system with its impact.

Her hands were trembling as she released her grip, her fingers travelled to her face as she harshly wiped her cheeks, like the act could erase the trails of painful tears; each drop of the bodily fluid a reminder of what she had lost, every flow was a ghost of the future—if only she took better care of herself, if only she had confirmed her conception sooner.

Maybe it wouldn't lead to this. Maybe even if she was alone, the joy of becoming a mom once again would be enough. Enough to make her strive, enough to make her feel alive.

"Tell me you're lying. I can't lose my baby. N-no. Doc. Melody, my baby." Her breathing started to hitch, she was wheezing, her shoulders shaking like something heavy was on her—something beyond bareable, disintegrating her, breaking her down from the insides and even on the outside, shown by how her body was responding.

The way she trembled, it was more than a reaction—it was her body's maternal instinct taking over. The motherly side of her that's collapsing into an unrepairable downfall she knew she could never recover from.

Lea knows she's hurt. More than hurt. But can she say that she's grieving? She felt like she couldn't.

How can she grieve for someone she wasn't able to even hold? Someone she didn't even have the chance to acknowledge?

"Calm down, Lea. Calm down." Adhira's steps were purposeful as she approached in panic seeing the woman breaking down.

At that moment, she forgot she was a medical professional who was disciplined to act composed in situations like that. She allowed her body to react not as a doctor, but as a mother who was sympathizing with the woman.

The view of Lea Galvez—broken, grief-stricken, weeping uncontrollably, looking so disoriented— had crushed Adhira's heart as she pictured herself in her position. Her cries echoed with such pain, she could actually feel it, too.