Once a Wife [English Version]

Chapter 24

All Maricar could see when she opened her eyes was a white ceiling and the soft sound of an IV drip.

What happened? Why couldn't she remember?

Her body ached from head to toe—but something felt different.

"Baby..." That voice. The soothing voice she knew so well—it was Tristan.

"Don't get up just yet. You need to lie down."

She obeyed, and he gently adjusted the bed's backrest so she could sit without straining.

"W-What happened?"

Tristan didn't answer. He avoided her eyes.

And then it hit her.

Fragments of memory flashed before her.

She clutched her head—then froze when her hand touched her stomach.

Wait... Why does it hurt?

"Tristan, the baby—" she grabbed his arm, panicked. "Where's our baby?"

"Icang..." his voice broke, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, baby..."

She shook her head. No. What was happening? The last thing she remembered... they were at the baby shower... she walked out because of Clarisse—

And then—

"C-Cynthia..." she whispered. "She pushed me... Tristan, what happened?"

Their eyes met. He searched for the right words, but all he could offer was a tear.

He took her hand. Tried to hide the tears. Failed.

"No..." Maricar whispered. "No, it's not true..."

"Icang—"

"No!" she screamed. This couldn't be real. She tried to sit up, but her legs went weak. "No, Tristan... it can't be..."

"I'm sorry..." Tristan pulled her into his chest, and with that, the dam finally broke.

"Tristan..." she sobbed.

And he held her.

As tightly as he could.

⸻

The room was silent.

Maricar still lay on the hospital bed—pale, weak, barely speaking.

Tristan sat beside her, holding her. She didn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms.

They were both exhausted—physically, emotionally, spiritually—numbed by the tragedy they never expected.

"I cut her off..." Tristan finally said. "Clarisse..."

"What?" she asked. "She's your cousin..."

"I should've done it long ago," he said, voice heavy. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I let her hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't believe you... When I saw the passports—I just blacked out."

That hit her. The truth was, it did hurt. His silence. The questions from everyone.

But nothing compared to what they had lost.

She still needed the father of her child. She needed Tristan.

"I'm sorry..." he kissed her temple.

"No..." she shook her head, tears pooling again. "I'm sorry... I lost our baby..."

"It wasn't your fault."

And they cried again. Both of them.

Later, she drifted off to sleep, exhausted. She awoke when the doctor came in—calm, respectful, and carrying the chart. His eyes held sympathy.