Chapter 200: Endless Tears
Sable's POV
I cried through the entire night.
The pillow beneath my face was soaked through with tears, but I couldn't stop.
I must have cried myself to sleep sometime before dawn, because when I opened my swollen eyes, pale morning light was filtering through the curtains.
The first thing I saw was the breakfast tray on my nightstand.
French toast arranged perfectly on white porcelain. Fresh blueberries scattered artfully around the edges. Crispy bacon and eggs over easy, just how I liked them. Orange juice so thick and fresh it probably came from the grove behind the manor. And a glass of warm milk with a delicate skin of cream floating on top.
My throat closed up.
He made this.
Every weekend since we'd been together, Caelan would wake before me to prepare exactly this breakfast. He'd arrange the blueberries into a smiley face on the toast, trying to make me laugh. He'd always taste the milk first to make sure it wasn't too hot.
The tears came again, hot and relentless.
I had no appetite. The thought of food made my stomach turn. But I placed my hand over my belly, feeling the slight curve where our daughter was growing.
"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered. "Mommy needs to eat for you."
I forced myself to take one bite. Then another. The French toast turned to ash in my mouth, but I chewed mechanically. For her. For the tiny life depending on me.
When I finally finished half the plate, I walked to the bathroom to wash my face.
The blood was still there.
Dark stains on the marble floor where he'd bled.
I gripped the sink edge, fighting another wave of grief.
After washing my face with cold water, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Puffy red eyes. Hollow cheeks.
I opened the bathroom door and walked toward the living room.
The curtains were half-drawn, casting everything in dim, oppressive shadows. Medical supplies were scattered across the coffee table—gauze, antiseptic bottles, surgical tape. The metallic scent of blood still lingered in the air.
Caelan sat rigid on the edge of the sofa, wearing a charcoal gray sweatshirt. White bandages wrapped his left chest. His jaw was covered in stubble, his eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness. He looked like he'd aged years in one night.
Dr. Reynolds sat across from him, a middle-aged man with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His medical bag rested at his feet. When he noticed me in the doorway, concern flickered across his weathered features.
Caelan's head snapped up. For just a moment, desperate hope blazed in his eyes.
"Morning, Queen Sable," Dr. Reynolds stood immediately. "Please, sit. I need to examine you."
I nodded, my voice coming out like sandpaper. "Thank you, Dr. Reynolds."
Caelan opened his mouth, but only air escaped. No words came. He closed it again, jaw working silently.
Dr. Reynolds guided me to the armchair across from Caelan. His examination was thorough but gentle—checking my pulse, blood pressure, listening to the baby's heartbeat with his stethoscope.
"The baby is doing well," he said finally. "Strong heartbeat, normal development."
I nodded.
"His Majesty told me about the severance ceremony you're planning." Dr. Reynolds's expression grew somber. "I'm very sorry to hear this. He's asked me to ensure both you and the baby remain safe throughout the process."
He reached into his bag and withdrew a small white pill.
"This medication will help minimize the physical trauma of breaking the mate bond without harming your pregnancy."
My hands trembled slightly as I accepted the pill.
Caelan started to rise, instinctively wanting to help me, but the movement pulled at his wound. He sucked in a sharp breath and fell back against the cushions.
I glanced at him involuntarily, then forced myself to look away.
The pill tasted bitter on my tongue. I swallowed it down with a grimace.
Dr. Reynolds maintained his professional demeanor throughout, asking no questions, offering no judgment. When I'd taken the medication, he packed his supplies efficiently.
"Your Majesty, please monitor your wound carefully. No strenuous activity." He paused at the door, looking back at me. "Queen Sable, if you experience any discomfort, contact me immediately."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence settled over us like a suffocating blanket.
Caelan sat with his hands braced on his knees, staring at the floor. I focused on a single wilted rose in the crystal vase on the coffee table, its petals brown and curling.
Ten minutes passed. Neither of us spoke.
I watched him from my peripheral vision. Several times he started to lift his head, as if to speak, then thought better of it.
Finally, I drew a deep breath and stood.
"Let's get this over with."
My voice was hoarse but steady. No hesitation. No doubt.
Caelan's entire body went rigid. His fingers dug into the leather sofa cushions.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.
Then he rose slowly and walked toward the door.
We maintained three feet of distance between us. Him leading, me following.
We passed through the hallway lined with our photos. Wedding pictures. Vacation shots. My pregnancy announcement photo where I was glowing with happiness.
Caelan stopped in front of one frame—the picture taken when I was three months pregnant. I was laughing at something he'd said, one hand on my barely visible bump, pure joy radiating from my face.
"Don't waste time," I said coldly.
He continued walking.
At the ceremony room door, his hand gripped the brass handle but didn't turn it.
"Sabi... are you absolutely certain?"
"Don't call me that anymore." My tone could have cut steel.
He nodded once and pushed open the heavy oak door.