Chapter 22 Ignored Me?

Chapter 22 Ignored Me?
Chapter 22— Susan’s POV

The pain started quietly.

So quietly that I almost ignored it.

It was late at night. The kind of night where the house feels empty, even though it is full of people. The lights were dim. The walls were silent. No footsteps. No voices. No sound except my own breathing.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my hands resting on my stomach. Sleep refused to come. It hadn’t come for months now. My body was heavy. My back hurt. My legs felt swollen and tired. Pregnancy had changed me in ways I never imagined, and carrying all of it alone made it worse.

Then I felt it.

A tight pull low in my body.

I frowned and shifted slightly.

“It’s nothing,” I whispered to myself. “Just another false alarm.”

I had felt strange pains before. Doctors had said it was normal. Stress. Weakness. Hunger. Fear. Everything mixed together. I had learned not to panic.

I closed my eyes.

Then it came again.

Stronger.

I sucked in a breath and placed my hand firmly on my stomach. The baby moved, slow and heavy, like even the little one inside me was tired.

“Easy,” I whispered. “Please… just easy.”

Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time felt strange.

Then the pain came again.

This time, sharper.

I sat up slowly, my heart beating faster now. Sweat formed on my forehead. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, planting my feet on the floor.

“That’s enough,” I murmured. “You’re imagining things.”

I tried to stand.

My knees buckled instantly.

I gasped and grabbed the bed to keep from falling. My breath came out shaky, uneven. Fear crept in slowly, like cold water rising around my ankles.

“No,” I whispered. “Not now.”

Another wave hit me, stronger than before. I cried out softly, pressing my palm against my mouth to keep the sound from traveling through the quiet house.

I tried to stand again.

I couldn’t.

My body refused me. My legs trembled. My vision blurred for a second.

I sank back onto the bed, tears filling my eyes.

“Please…” my voice broke.

“Please… not like this.”

Not alone.

Not abandoned.

Not after everything.

The room felt too big. Too empty. The walls did not answer me. The bed did not comfort me. Even the night outside the window felt distant and uncaring.

The pain kept coming.

Slow at first. Then closer together.

I hugged my stomach gently, rocking back and forth.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to the baby. “Mama is here. Mama is here.”

But inside, fear was screaming.

I reached for my phone.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

Lucien’s name was there.

For a moment—just one moment—I thought of calling him.

Then memories rushed in like a storm.

The calls he ignored.

The times he hung up.

The nights I cried quietly while he chose someone else.

The blame.

The cold words.

The way my pain never mattered enough.

My hand trembled.

I turned the phone face down.

“No,” I said softly. “I won’t beg.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe.

I chose dignity.

Even if it meant pain.

Even if it meant fear.

Even if it meant being alone.

Another sharp wave tore through me and this time, I couldn’t hold back a cry.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Susan?” a gentle voice whispered. “Are you awake?”

It was her.

The maid who always looked at me with kindness. The one who slipped me water when no one was watching. The one who asked how I was, even when others pretended I didn’t exist.

“I… I’m here,” I said weakly.

The door opened slowly.

Her eyes widened the moment she saw me.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Madam… you’re sweating.”

Another pain hit, and I cried out, clutching the bedsheet.

“I think… I think something is wrong,” I whispered. “Please don’t panic.”

She rushed to my side immediately, kneeling beside me.

“You’re not wrong,” she said firmly, though fear flickered in her eyes. “You’re in labor.”

The word made everything real.

Labor.

My heart raced. Tears streamed down my face.

“I didn’t want this to happen like this,” I cried. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

She took my hand, squeezing it tightly.

“You’re not alone,” she said. “I’m here.”

She helped me sit up, supporting my weight gently, carefully. She wiped my face with a cloth, her movements quick but kind.

“I’ll call the doctor,” she said. “The family doctor. Don’t worry.”

“Please…” I gasped as another pain came. “Don’t call him yet.”

She hesitated. “Sir Lucien?”

I shook my head weakly. “Not yet. Please.”

She nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

She moved fast after that. Phone calls. Instructions. Soft words meant to calm me. I barely heard them. The pain was taking over now, rising and falling like waves I couldn’t escape.

Time blurred.

At some point, the doctor arrived. His voice was calm, professional, but I could hear concern underneath.

“She’s under too much stress,” he said quietly. “We need to move quickly.”

As they prepared to move me, I heard the maid whisper into the phone, her voice shaking.

“Sir… Madam Susan is in labor.”

That was how Lucien would find out.

Not from me.

Not from love.

Not from choice.

But because it was already happening.

As they lifted me carefully, another wave hit, and I cried out, tears soaking my cheeks.

I didn’t know what would happen next.

I didn’t know if he would come.

But one thing was clear as the pain consumed me:

Even if he never showed up…

I would bring this child into the world.

And I would survive.

Alone, if I had to.