Chapter 24 Precious GIFT

Chapter 24 Precious GIFT
Chapter 24- Susan’s POV

The room was quiet.

Not peaceful.

Not comforting.

Just quiet.

The kind of quiet that comes after too much pain. The kind that sits heavy on your chest and makes every breath feel slow.

I was alive.

The baby was alive.

That was what the nurse said.

That was what everyone kept repeating, like it was supposed to fix everything.

But inside me… nothing felt fixed.

My body felt weak, like it had been emptied of something important. My arms were heavy. My head hurt. My heart felt even worse.

I stared at the white wall in front of me. I did not look to the side. I did not turn my head.

Because I knew he was there.

I felt him before I heard him.

Lucien.

His presence filled the room the same way it always did—strong, heavy, impossible to ignore. The door had opened earlier. Voices had shifted. Nurses had stepped aside.

Then silence again.

He stood there.

I knew he was looking at me.

I did not look back.

“Susan…” he said softly.

I closed my eyes.

That one word—my name—felt strange coming from him. Like it didn’t belong anymore. Like it came too late.

I heard him move closer. I felt it in the air.

“The baby is fine,” he said. His voice was tight. Controlled. Trying too hard.

“Our baby is fine.”

I swallowed.

I said nothing.

He waited.

I didn’t turn.

He took another step. I could feel how close he was now. Too close.

“You scared me,” he continued. “When they called me… when they said there were complications… I—”

“Please don’t,” I said quietly.

My voice surprised even me. It was calm. Flat. Empty.

He stopped.

The room felt even heavier.

“I need to explain,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know it was that bad. I didn’t know you were—”

“I said please don’t,” I repeated.

Slowly, I turned my head just enough to look at him.

Not fully.

Just enough.

His face looked different. Pale. Tired. His eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept. Like he had been afraid.

Once… that might have mattered to me.

Now, it didn’t.

“I already did this alone,” I said. My voice didn’t shake.

“I’ll keep doing it alone.”

The words landed between us like something broken.

Lucien froze.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I looked past him. Past the room. Past everything.

“I mean I went into labor alone,” I said. “I was in pain alone. I was scared alone. I thought I might die alone.”

My throat tightened, but I forced the words out anyway.

“I didn’t call you. Do you know why?”

He didn’t answer.

“I didn’t call you because I didn’t trust you to come,” I said. “I didn’t trust you to choose me. And I was right.”

His jaw tightened.

“I came as soon as I heard—”

“You came after,” I interrupted. “After everything had already happened. After I had already made it through without you.”

Silence fell again.

I could hear the machines softly beeping beside me. Slow. Steady. Alive.

“I’m not angry,” I said. “That’s the worst part.”

He looked at me sharply.

“I’m not angry because anger takes energy,” I continued. “And I don’t have that anymore.”

He stepped closer. “Susan, look at me.”

I didn’t.

“I don’t want to,” I said. “Please understand that.”

His voice dropped. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I finally looked at him then.

Not with love.

Not with hate.

Just tired eyes.

“Intentions don’t change what happened,” I said. “You were not there. That is the truth.”

He opened his mouth.

I raised my hand weakly.

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t talk. I don’t have the strength to forgive you yet.”

The words hung in the air.

Forgive.

That word made his face change completely.

Fear crossed his eyes. Real fear.

“I’ll wait,” he said quickly. “However long it takes. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

I shook my head slowly.

“You don’t fix this,” I said. “You live with it.”

He reached out, like he wanted to touch my hand.

I pulled it back.

Not because I hated him.

Because I couldn’t feel safe yet.

“You can see the baby,” I said. “You have the right.”

He hesitated. “And you?”

“I need rest,” I replied. “That’s all I can give right now.”

He stood there for a long time. Silent. Helpless. For the first time since I had known him, Lucien Blackwood did not know what to do.

Finally, he nodded.

“I’ll be outside,” he said. “If you need anything.”

I didn’t answer.

When he left, the room felt lighter.

Not happier.

Just quieter.

A nurse came in later and placed the baby gently beside me.

So small. So warm. So real.

I looked down for the first time since waking up.

Tears filled my eyes then. Not loud tears. Not broken ones.

Just slow, silent tears.

“I did it,” I whispered.

“We did it.”

The baby moved slightly, breathing softly.

I held on.

Whatever came next…

Whatever fights, regrets, or promises waited outside this room…

I knew one thing.

I survived.

And I would not disappear again.