Chapter 178 RECOVERY.
\~~~LUCIANO.
I sat there in the dim light of the recovery room, my chair pulled as close to Raina's bed as it could go. Her hand rested limp in mine, her skin cool but alive under my fingers.
The clock on the wall ticked past midnight hours ago, and still, she hadn't moved a muscle. The doctors had moved her here after the surgery, saying she was stable, but stable felt like a lie when she looked so fragile, and so broken. Tubes snaked from her arms to machines that beeped softly, a constant reminder of how close we'd come to losing her completely.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from her face, pale and bruised in places, and her dark hair fanned out on the pillow like a shadow.
Hours dragged on. I'd been here since they wheeled her in, refusing to budge. My back ached from the hard chair, my eyes burned from staring, but none of that mattered. Raina needed me. She always had, from the day we met in that storm of lies and betrayals, to now, after Marco and Talia had torn her world apart.
The baby, our baby, was gone, ripped away in the violence they'd unleashed. The thought clawed at me, but I pushed it down. Right now, she was all that counted.
Alessia had slipped in a while back, her face drawn with worry. She stood by the door at first, watching us, then came closer.
“Luciano,” she'd whispered, her hand on my shoulder. “You need to take a turn. Rest for a bit. I will sit with her.”
I shook my head, not even looking up. “No. My face will be the first she sees when she wakes up.” My voice came out rough and edged with the exhaustion I wouldn't admit. Alessia lingered, squeezing my shoulder, but she knew better than to push. She was my sister, tough as nails, but even she saw the steel in me now. She left quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.
The night stretched on, endless and heavy and I replayed everything in my head, again.
Morning light eventually filtered through the blinds, turning the room from black to gray. Still, Raina didn't stir.
Panic twisted in my gut, sharp and cold. I reached for the call button and pressed it hard. A nurse bustled in moments later, her uniform crisp, carrying a Styrofoam cup.
She set it on the side table and smiled faintly. “Mr. Moretti, here is some coffee. You look like you pulled an all-nighter. You need it.”
I didn't raise my head and didn't acknowledge her. The steam from the cup rose, but I ignored it, my focus locked on Raina's chest. Was it rising? Falling? The fear gnawed deeper. The nurse hovered for a second, then slipped out without another word.
Not long after, the doctor entered, and I shot to my feet, the chair scraping back.
“Doctor,” I said, my voice tight with panic. “I watched her all night. She didn't move. Not once. I am not even sure if she's breathing right. Please, check her.”
He nodded calmly, stepping to the bed. “Of course, Mr. Moretti. Let's take a look.”
He checked the monitors, listened to her breathing with a stethoscope, and shone a light in her eyes. I paced a short step, fists clenched, every second stretching like torture.
“She is stable,” he said finally, straightening up. “Her vitals are steady. The body's been through significant trauma, as you know. Right now, the best thing is to let her rest. We will keep monitoring closely.'
“But she's not waking up,” I pressed, my heart pounding.
“I understand your concern. If it would make you feel better, I'll check her again right now.” He did, methodically, then turned to me with a reassuring nod.
“She is fine. No signs of complications at the moment.” He paused, his expression shifting to something more serious.
“But I need to tell you something important.”
“It can wait, can't it?” I glanced back at Raina, sinking into the chair. “I can't leave her alone.”
The doctor parted his lips, then nodded, respecting the boundary. “Of course.”
“Is it about her?’' I breathed out, the words heavy.
I hated this place. I hated the sterile smell of antiseptic, the fluorescent hum, and the way every corner held bad news.
And the doctors? They were messengers of doom, always with their careful words that hid the worst.
“Let’s have it,” I said, nodding once, and bracing myself.
He glanced at Raina, still peaceful in sleep, then at Alessia, who'd quietly entered and stood by the window with her arms crossed. The doctor cleared his throat. “We ran more tests overnight. There is something you both should be aware of.”
“What?” I leaned forward, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Right now, we cannot determine if this will affect future pregnancies.”
“What do you mean?’' I frowned, my voice sharpening. “What do you mean you cannot determine if this will affect future pregnancies?”
He paused, choosing his words. “Your wife's body has gone through severe trauma in a short period of time. She suffered heavy blood loss, physical assault, and the miscarriage itself. On top of that, there were significant levels of sedatives in her system.”
My jaw tightened, anger flashing hot at the reminder of what Marco had done. He assaulted her, drugged her, and ended our child. I wanted to crush him all over again.
The doctor continued gently, his tone even. “Right now, our main priority is stabilizing her and allowing her body to recover. The uterus and reproductive system need time to heal after something like this.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat burning. “So... she may not be able to have children again?”
He shook his head slightly, regret in his eyes. “I am sorry. But many women go on to have healthy pregnancies after a miscarriage, even one caused by trauma. We've seen it before. But until her body recovers fully and we run follow-up examinations, we simply cannot give you a definite answer. It's too soon.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as lead. No definite answer.
Just uncertainty, like everything else in our lives, betrayals from family, enemies lurking in shadows, and a world built on revenge. I nodded, even long after he'd patted my shoulder awkwardly and exited the room, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I glanced at Alessia. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed quietly into her hand. Her eyes met mine, full of shared grief. Raina was her friend, almost a sister, and this loss hit her hard too. But I couldn't comfort her now.
Hell, I can’t even comfort myself.
Turning back to Raina, I settled beside her again. She was my priority. She needed me more than ever, in this vulnerability I'd never seen. Screw the doctors and their tests.
Screw the what-ifs about babies and futures. We'd face it together, like always. I took her hand in both of mine, holding it tightly but gently, my thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles. Her skin warmed a little under my touch, or maybe that was wishful thinking.
Leaning in, I fondled her hair softly, brushing strands from her forehead. “Raina,” I whispered, my voice cracking just for her.
“I love you. More than anything. You're my world, baby. Come back to me.” I kissed her hand, pressing my lips to the back, then her wrist, tasting the faint salt of her skin.
The room felt smaller, the outside world distant.
An hour ticked by, maybe more. The sun climbed higher, casting warm stripes across the bed. Then, finally, she stirred. A soft flutter of her eyelids, a twitch in her fingers, and my heart leaped. “Raina, baby, I am here. I'm here,” I said, squeezing her hand a little tighter, patting her cheek gently with my free palm.
Her eyes opened slowly, hazy at first, then focused on me. Relief crashed through me like a wave. I breathed out, a shaky exhale.
“It’s me, sunshine. Alessia, could you get the doctor?”
Alessia nodded, wiping her eyes, and hurried out.
I leaned closer, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, soft and reverent. “Well done, my baby. You did so well. You're so strong.”
Her lips parted, voice hoarse and cracked from disuse. “Is it…”
“What?” I prompted gently, still caressing her face, thumb brushing her jaw.
“Is it... positive? The baby?” She winced, pain flickering in her eyes as she shifted slightly.
“Baby,” I breathed, my chest tightening. I kept stroking her cheeks, holding her gaze. “Why don't we focus on your recovery first? You're here, with me. That is what matters.”
“Please... tell me.” She frowned, her voice pleading, weak but insistent.
I couldn't lie to her. “We lost it,’' I whispered, pulling her into my arms as carefully as I could, holding her tightly against my chest. Her body trembled in my embrace, a soft sob escaping her.