Chapter 70 The Choice
The door to the emergency ward swung open.
A pale Evelyn was wheeled out, IV already inserted, oxygen mask resting over her face.
Roman snapped upright instantly and rushed to her side.
Theon stepped in front of him.
“She’s okay,” he said, exhaling deeply. “She’s stable now.”
Relief crashed into Roman so hard his knees nearly buckled. He tried to follow the stretcher.
Theon blocked him again.
Roman tried to go around him. “Move.”
“Roman.”
“I said move!”
“You need to listen to me.”
“Later,” Roman said coldly, stepping forward again. “Anything can be discussed later.”
“It’s about Evelyn!” Theon called out.
Roman stopped. He slowly turned. His eyes were terrifyingly red, and unstable.
Theon swallowed.
For a split second, he remembered something from years ago— It was bloody.
He shook the memory away.
Compared to that night… This Roman was still holding on.
“Let’s go to my office,” Theon said quietly.
Roman didn’t answer.
Behind him, Lena followed Evelyn's stretcher, her footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.
After a long, suffocating pause, he followed.
—-
An hour later, Roman stood in the private suite they'd moved Evelyn to.
It didn't look like a hospital room. More like a luxury hotel—soft lighting, actual furniture, muted walls, silent machines humming discreetly.
But none of it softened the atmosphere.
Roman stood beside the bed. He had changed. The blood was gone. His shirt was clean. His hair was tousled roughly. But his eyes were hollow.
He stared at Evelyn’s pale face, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.
His mind replayed the conversation from an hour ago. Over and over again.
—
An hour earlier.
Inside Theon’s office, the sky outside was already turning faintly blue.
Roman stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to the room. His hands were clasped behind him so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
Theon sat behind his desk, exhausted, rubbing his temples.
“Roman,” he began.
Silence.
“She was pregnant.”
The words landed heavily.
Roman didn’t move. Not a single muscle.
“But thankfully,” Theon continued carefully, “we managed it in time. There were complications. With her condition… this could have been much worse than a miscarriage.”
Still nothing from Roman.
His jaw clenched so tight a vein pulsed at his temple.
“To be honest,” Theon added quietly, “I’m surprised she conceived at all. After everything that was done to her system—” he paused.
“Finish your sentence,” Roman said.
His voice was dangerously restrained.
Theon exhaled. “Let's not bring up the past. That's not what I need to say.”
The silence in the room thickened.
Then Theon leaned forward.
“Roman. Her body might look normal. She might look strong. But internally? She’s fragile. After the alterations, any sudden spike—stress, trauma, hormonal imbalance, can trigger catastrophic reactions.”
Roman slowly turned. His eyes were bloodshot.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m saying let her live normally,” Theon replied firmly. “Stop restricting her life. Stop trying to control every variable.”
Roman’s expression darkened.
“And most importantly—” Theon’s voice hardened. “Do not alter her memory again. No matter what. If she has a panic attack, comfort her. Don't erase it.”
Roman’s temper snapped.
“You think I don't want that?!” he exploded. "You think I enjoy—”
“The mistake you made,” Theon shot back, standing up, “was stepping back into her life in the first place!”
The words hit hard.
“Do not alter her system indirectly again,” Theon warned. “You keep trying to ‘protect’ her by adjusting things around her. That’s what’s destabilizing her!”
Roman’s breathing grew heavier.
"Shit.” Theon muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “This whole thing is messed up,”
“Take care of your woman. If you get her pregnant again, notice immediately. For Christ’s sake—you’re a doctor. She was two months pregnant. Two. And you didn’t notice.”
Roman's face crumpled. He sank into the nearest chair, elbows on his knees, head dropping forward.
Theon watched him. He'd never seen Roman like this. Never
“I don’t want her to know,” Roman said quietly. “About the pregnancy. Or the miscarriage.”
Theon stared at him in disbelief.
“Roman…”
“If she finds out, she’ll blame herself,” Roman continued, voice low. “She’ll spiral. I can’t let that happen.”
Theon scoffed under his breath.
“If anything happens to her again, I’m washing my hands of it.”
Theon shook his head. “If she finds out, comfort her. Stop acting like you have everything under control. Stop doing this over and over. Get over your fears, man.”
Roman didn't respond. He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.
Theon pressed his lips together. “I've never seen you this devastated.”
A long silence.
“There's a good chance she doesn't know she was pregnant before she fainted,” Theon said finally. “You can attribute the fainting to stress. Dehydration. Exhaustion. You're a master at your own game. Play it well.”
He grabbed his coat from the rack.
“Get changed. Feel human again. I'll erase any trace of the miscarriage from her records.” He paused at the door. “But Roman. Don't alter her memory. Not again.”
The door closed behind him.
Roman remained alone in that office for a long time.
—
Present.
Roman stood beside Evelyn’s bed. His eyes unconsciously drifted to her stomach.
Pregnant. Two months. And he never noticed.
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
“Only this last time,” he murmured.
He turned and walked into the inner lounge attached to the suite.
Inside a locked drawer sat a small black box. He retrieved it and opened the box.
Inside were thin incense sticks.
He took one out.
“I won’t alter it medically,” he whispered to himself.
He placed an oxygen mask over his own face. Then returned to Evelyn's side and removed her oxygen mask. The hiss of flowing oxygen stopped. For a moment, there was only silence.
He lit the incense stick.
A faint, sweet scent filled the room almost instantly. Not unpleasant—almost floral, but with an undertone that made the mind go soft at the edges.
He stood there watching the smoke curl upward.
‘If she never remembered the pain, then she would never grieve.’
His chest tightened.
His mind flashed to her laughing face.
Calling his name in relief when she saw him.
Then another image surfaced.
Her small body in his arms. Blood soaking into his clothes.
Theon’s voice.
Roman’s breathing grew uneven behind the mask.
His hand trembled.
What was he doing? Again?
Was he protecting her, or protecting himself from seeing her break?
His grip tightened suddenly. And just as abruptly, he extinguished the incense.
The sweet scent stopped spreading. He shoved the stick back into the box and slammed it shut. Removed his mask, and sat down beside her bed
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
A tear slipped down before he could stop it.
“I’m so sorry.”
At that exact moment, Evelyn stirred.
Her fingers twitched slightly against the bedsheet.
Her lashes fluttered. Slowly, her eyes opened.