Chapter 80 Unstable
Then Amelia’s eyes widened suddenly as another thought struck her, something she should have asked first.
"The baby," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What about the baby?"
The doctor’s expression softened with sympathy, but his eyes reflected the truth even before he spoke.
"I’m very sorry," he said gently. "The trauma, stress, and lack of oxygen were too severe. Although there's a faint heartbeat, I don't think the foetus will survive."
The words hit like a gunshot.
Amelia collapsed back into the chair, a raw cry tearing from her chest.
"No… no…" she sobbed. "She was so careful. She wanted that baby so badly."
Richard staggered back a step, his back hitting the wall. His face drained of all colors as the reality sank in.
Rebecca had been carrying life inside her, a life that seemed like a hope and a future to Rebecca but now, it was gone.
"She wanted that baby so much," Amelia cried. "She had been scared, but she was happy. She was trying her best everyday…"
Amelia remembered how Rebecca always had a smile in her eyes whenever she talked about her baby.
Even though the baby had come unexpectedly, she had wanted it, and now it's gone even before she met it.
Richard closed his eyes, pain etched deeply into his features.
'How do you tell a mother she’s lost her child when she hasn’t even woken up yet?' he wondered helplessly.
The doctor gave them a moment, then spoke again. "You can see Mr. Hemsworth once he’s moved to the ward. As for Mrs. Hemsworth, we’ll let you know the moment there’s any change."
He offered a sympathetic nod before walking away.
Amelia slid back into her chair, her body finally giving in. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
While Richard remained standing, staring at the closed doors.
A couple of hours later, Derek woke slowly, dragged back to consciousness by pain.
It began as a dull ache deep in his chest, heavy and suffocating, before sharpening into something hot and unbearable. Every breath felt restricted, as though his lungs were struggling to remember how to work.
When he tried to move, a sharp, searing sting ripped through his right side, forcing a broken groan from his throat.
His eyes fluttered open. Blinding white lights greeted him, harsh and unforgiving. The sterile smell of antiseptic burned his nose.
Machines surrounded him, their steady beeping filling the room with a rhythm that felt far too loud in his fragile state. For a brief, disoriented moment, he didn’t know where he was or why his body felt so broken or why he was in pain.
Until the memory rushed back to him all at once. Rebecca going missing, the Fire, the smoke, the rescue, Rebecca’s limp body in his arms, Vanessa’s eyes, cold and burning with hatred and then the sound of the gunshot and the pain that followed, indicating he had been hit.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
"Rebecca," he whispered, his voice hoarse, cracked, barely audible."Becca…"
Panic surged through him. He tried to sit up, desperation lending him strength his body no longer had, but the movement sent a sharp, brutal pain through his chest.
He cried out softly, instinctively pressing his hand against the thick bandage beneath his hospital gown.
A nurse rushed to his side immediately.
"Sir, please don’t move," she said gently but firmly, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "You’ve been unconscious for a few hours."
Her voice barely reached him.
"Where is my wife?" Derek asked urgently, his voice trembling, eyes wild with fear. "Where is Rebecca?"
The nurse hesitated. Her expression softened, sympathy flooding her features.
"She’s alive," she said carefully.
Derek released a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
"But?" he whispered when she made no move to continue, dread already curling in his stomach.
"But barely. She’s in critical condition," the nurse continued. "She suffered smoke inhalation, physical trauma, and extreme stress. The doctors are doing everything they can."
His chest tightened painfully, this time not from the wound, but from fear.
"And the baby?" he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.
The nurse’s expression grew more solemn, her eyes filled with pity. "The pregnancy is unstable due to the trauma and smoke exposure. The situation is… delicate."
Each word cut into him like a blade. Derek turned his head away, staring blankly at the wall as tears welled in his eyes. His hands trembled slightly against the sheets.
This was his fault. All of it. He had insisted on the trip, he had pushed her when she was already fragile.
He had attacked her with accusations instead of simply listening. Instead of protecting her, he had hurt her.
If he hadn’t brought her here, she would be safe. She would be at home. She wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. A sob escaped him before he could stop it.
As the nurse quietly stepped away, giving him privacy, Derek squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, or prayed, but now he found himself doing both. Silently, but desperately, he begged whoever was listening.