Chapter 40: A Painful Memory

It was a rainy night, with thunder shaking the windows and lightning flashes momentarily lighting up Isabella's room. Amidst the murmur of the storm, she fell into a deep sleep, one that soon turned into a nightmare of heartbreaking memories.

Isabella found herself in a cold, dark room, with gray walls and lights that seemed to fade with every flicker. She lay on a stretcher, weak, exhausted. Anguish twisted her heart. She felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, but at the same time, there was a strange peace about something else: she had just given birth. Though her body was exhausted, her soul was filled with an inexplicable love for the little being she had brought into the world.

Breathing heavily, she lifted her gaze, hoping to see her baby in the arms of a nurse who would smile and tell her everything was fine. But instead, a dark figure approached. It was an older woman with a stern face, strangely familiar to her, though her mind couldn't quite place where from.

—It’s your fault —the woman said in a low voice, but with a harshness that made Isabella's heart shrink—. This child should never have been born.

Before she could understand, the woman extended her hands and snatched the baby from her arms. Isabella felt an instant void, as if a part of her being had been ripped away. She tried to move, tried to scream, but her voice wouldn’t come out; her body didn’t respond.

—No! —she tried to say, though it was only a desperate whisper.

The woman looked at her with a heartbreaking coldness, her eyes full of disdain.

—Make sure it disappears. It cannot live —she ordered, turning to a nurse who stood in the corner like a spectral shadow. The nurse nodded without a shred of compassion, preparing to take the little one away.

Isabella tried to rise, to stop her, but her strength was insufficient, as if something invisible was anchoring her to that stretcher. Helplessness suffocated her, and tears ran down her cheeks, her heart pounding with a desperation she had never felt before.

—No… no, please… —she managed to whisper with barely a breath.

The figures before her began to fade, the image of the woman holding her baby while giving the final order etched into her memory. It was then, for a second, that the woman’s face seemed to become clear, and in the darkness of her nightmare, Isabella recalled every feature.

The horror jolted her awake, her heart racing and her body covered in cold sweat. The rain continued to batter the windows, and the thunder rumbled through the darkness of her room. Isabella placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat, while the images of that dream clung to her mind like a terrifying echo of something she couldn't fully understand.

"Is it possible?" she thought, terrified. The possibility that this dream might be a hidden memory, a buried truth in her mind, left her breathless.

Isabella walked trembling toward the kitchen, still shaken by the dream. The images of that woman taking the baby, her own helplessness and desperation, all mixed in her mind. She opened the fridge and pulled out the milk with trembling hands, trying to calm herself as she poured a glass. Just as she was about to bring the glass to her lips, a soft, unexpected voice made her jump.

—Can’t you sleep? —Alexander had appeared silently, his expression worried.

Isabella dropped the glass in shock, and it shattered on the floor, scattering pieces across the kitchen. Breathless, she bent down to pick up the shards, but a cut on her hand made her let out a soft gasp of pain.

—Isabella! Don’t move —Alexander said quickly, moving closer to her to hold her injured hand and pull her away from the broken glass—. You’re bleeding.

With tenderness, he helped her sit up, guiding her to the sink. He turned on warm water and gently placed Isabella's hand under the stream, cleaning the blood and carefully inspecting the cut.

—I’m sorry, Alexander… I… —she murmured, her voice still trembling.

—You don’t have to apologize —he replied firmly, still looking at her hand—. Stay still; I’ll get the first aid kit.

He returned almost instantly with bandages and antiseptic. With a gentleness she hadn't expected, he began cleaning the wound, applying the antiseptic while she barely managed to look him in the eye, lost between the strange feeling of safety and the persistent thumping of her own fears.

—Did you have a nightmare? —Alexander asked, looking at her with concern.

Isabella nodded, biting her lip as she felt the tension building in her chest.

—Yes… it was… horrible. It was… like I was reliving something I’d forgotten. A woman… she… took a baby… my baby —she murmured, unaware of what she was saying.

Alexander watched her silently, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he finished bandaging her hand and gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

—You’re safe now. You don’t have to be afraid here —he whispered, looking at her intently.

Isabella looked at him for a moment, trying to find words, but the weight of the dream and the fear she felt were too deep. She nodded, grateful, and took a deep breath, trying to push away the echoes of that nightmare.

Morning arrived cold and gray, as if reflecting the unease Isabella had felt since the night before. Still with her hand bandaged and the memory of the disturbing dream, she got up, determined to uncover the truth about her past, though she feared what she might find. Without hesitation, she went downstairs in search of Alexander, who was in the living room reviewing some documents.

—Alexander, I need to ask you a favor —she began, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

He looked up and nodded, giving her his full attention.

—Tell me, Isabella. What do you need?

Isabella took a breath, struggling to find the right words. Talking about her possible pregnancy was difficult for her, as if deep down, she didn’t want to face the reality.

—I want... I want to investigate my past. I need to know if... if I was ever pregnant —she confessed, a lump in her throat—. What I saw in that dream was so real, so clear, that I need to know if it was just a nightmare or... or a memory.

Alexander watched her in silence, trying to process what she was asking. He knew that Isabella had come into his life with an incomplete story, but he had never suspected it could be so deep and painful.

—I understand. Isabella, I know this isn’t easy for you —he replied softly—. I’ll do everything I can to help. I know someone at a private clinic who might be able to access your medical records... if they ever existed.

Isabella nodded, grateful for Alexander's willingness.

—Thank you... truly, thank you —she said softly, relieved not to be alone in this process.

Alexander, noticing the tension in her expression, placed a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support.

—I want you to prepare yourself for any outcome, Isabella. We don’t always find what we expect, and sometimes, the answers can be more complicated than we think.

—I know —she replied, trying to convince herself that she was ready to face whatever truth awaited her, no matter how painful it might be.

They both fell silent, a calm that seemed to be

the prelude to everything that was about to be unearthed from Isabella’s past.