Leah had no clue how long she'd been wandering outside the hospital.

By the time she got home, it was past 3 a.m. She didn't bother with the lights. As her hand brushed the doorknob, she froze.

Sobs. Quiet ones. From inside.

"Ian, this is wrong. It's all my fault. We can't keep doing this!"

Their clothes were already a mess on the bed. Cecilia's face was flushed, breath heavy with booze. "You're his brother. I can't—this isn't right! It was supposed to be IVF. Just IVF!"

She tried to sit up. Ian caught her.

He tensed, went quiet. Then, low and tight— "Cecilia, actually, I—"

Leah stared at the floor outside the door.

He wasn't gonna say it.

Cecilia was his sister-in-law. He was still married.

And none of that seemed to matter.

His voice stayed flat, like he was talking business. "The doctor said IVF works, but natural's faster. We're both still young..." His hand slid to her waist. "Just think of me as Andrew."

Cecilia shivered. "Ian..."

Then came the breathing—slow, heavy, way too familiar.

Leah couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Every sound from that room sliced into her, needle-sharp. By the time it was over, something in her cracked.

She bolted, tore down the stairs, out the door, and collapsed by the roadside—retching until nothing came up.

The tears wouldn't stop.

Memories blurred in. Their wedding day. No parents to walk her down the aisle—just Ian, gripping her hand.

"Leah Labelle, I'll love you for the rest of my life. You'll be the only one. Always."

She'd cried so hard that day. Actually believed him.

Three years later, those vows were trash.

By morning, she wiped her face, caught a cab to the consulate, and applied for her visa.

When she got back, the house looked untouched. Like none of it happened.

And she pretended too. Like she hadn't seen a thing.

But her suitcase was already out. She paused.

Ian walked in, voice all careful. "The doctor said for IVF to work, Cecilia needs to prep her body and take supplements. She's careless, always forgets, so I need to keep an eye on her. I'm just doing what my parents asked. Once she's pregnant, we'll finally have time for us."

Leah almost laughed. He didn't even flinch saying it.

"Okay," she said.

He lit up, pulled her into his arms. "I knew you'd understand. You're the sweetest, most thoughtful wife a guy could ask for."

The scent of another woman's perfume clung to him.

Leah swallowed the nausea, shoved him off, and started packing.

She used to worry moving her stuff would tip him off. Now she had the perfect excuse.

As she zipped her suitcase, Ian hovered. "Why are you taking everything? Cecilia moving in is just temporary. Later—"

She smiled. "If I need something, it'd be annoying to come back for it."

Leah crashed in the guest room for the next few days, then made a beeline for the atelier every morning.

Maestro Vezzaro didn't mess around when it came to talent. He wanted her latest sculpture on his desk, no excuses. Time? Ticking. Pressure? Through the roof.

But something was off. She'd been dragging—like, eyes heavy, arms dead weight. Once, she literally passed out mid-sculpt. Not great.

A chill crawled up her spine.

Outside the hospital, Leah stared at the paper. The numbers were a joke. Her legs gave out, and she dropped into a chair.

No freaking way.

Back when she and Ian first got married, having a baby was the dream. They'd tried everything. Nothing worked.

Eventually, Ian told her to stop stressing and just let it happen naturally.

She'd finally made peace with never. But now...

Her hand drifted to her stomach. Eyes red, heart pounding.

'Really, baby? Now?'

Her phone buzzed.

"Leah! Come quick! We've got good news!"

***

When Leah pulled up to Ian's parents' house and stepped out of the car, she barely had time to speak before getting yanked inside.

Everyone looked like they'd just won the lottery.

"Leah! Cecilia's pregnant!"

Her head snapped toward the couch. Excuse me—what?

Cecilia actually blushed. "Jacquelin, don't." All fake modesty. "It's only been a few days. I haven't even seen a doctor yet."

Jacquelin—Ian's mom—waved it off. "Oh, please. I've had two kids. I know the signs."

Cecilia dipped her head, all shy smiles, one hand resting gently on her stomach.

"Leah," Jacquelin said, beaming, "now that Cecilia's expecting, you'll have to take good care of her. After all, this is also..."

Yeah. No need to finish that sentence. This wasn't just Cecilia's baby—it was Ian's too.

Ian jumped in, quick. "Mom, you know Leah. Of course she'll take care of Cecilia."

"Of course!"

The whole room buzzed with excitement. No one even looked her way.

Leah knew she couldn't dip just yet, so she slipped upstairs.

She crashed for maybe twenty minutes before nausea slammed her. She barely made it to the bathroom.

"Leah, are you okay?"

She spun. Cecilia stood in the doorway—zero clue how long she'd been watching.

Leah kept it cool. "Nothing."

"Leah, I know you blame me, but I didn't want this either. It was Andrew's parents who pushed for it," she said, dragging a hand over her stomach. "And Ian agreed too."

Leah didn't flinch. Just rinsed, wiped, and brushed past her. "I know."

But as they passed, Cecilia grabbed her wrist. Her face twisted.

"This child is my only one. No one's stealing his spotlight."

Leah blinked. Then spotted the paper in Cecilia's hand.

Her report.

Panic exploded in her chest. She yanked her arm back, instantly covering her stomach.

"What are you trying to do?"

Cecilia's eyes locked on her hands. Her whole expression shifted—sharp, dangerous.

"You shouldn't be pregnant. Not now. I'm not letting anyone steal the love meant for Ian's and my baby."

Leah's pulse spiked. She turned and bolted.

"Ian! Ian!"

Cecilia came after her. "Shut up! I told them I was craving dried fruit, so they all ran off to get it. Right now, I'm the star. Me!"

Leah spun, breath ragged, keeping her distance. "I'm not fighting you. I'll leave. Keep Ian. Keep the Fillions. I'm done."

Cecilia's smile curled—feral. "You'll leave? That's not enough."

Leah saw Cecilia move and bolted down the stairs.

Then—bam. A hard shove straight to the back.

She flew forward, no control, slamming stair after stair until she crashed at the bottom.

"Leah!"

Ian's voice. Panicked. Too late.

He stood frozen in the doorway, bag of dried fruit hitting the floor as he finally sprinted over.

"Ah—!"

But before he could reach her, Cecilia dropped like a drama queen, grabbing her stomach.

"Ian, it hurts! My stomach—take me to the hospital!"

He froze. Eyes flicked between Leah, bleeding and broken, and Cecilia, flopping around like she was nine months pregnant.

Cecilia wailed again—louder this time.

Ian hesitated maybe a second—then rushed right past Leah, scooping up Cecilia. "Leah, don't move! I'll take Cecilia first—I'll be right back!"

Door slammed.

Blood spread fast.

Panic slammed harder.

"Ian! Ian!" Her voice cracked, raw.

She sobbed, clutching her stomach. 'My baby. My baby.'

Ian paused. Just for a second. Her face—bruised, battered, still smiling after that crash—flashed in his head. She never broke. But this time...

He almost turned.

Then Cecilia whimpered, all breathy: "Ian, it hurts so bad... our baby—please..."

'Can't risk our baby.'

He clutched her tighter and ran.

Leah lay there, soaked in blood, shaking. Every inch screamed. She dragged herself forward, hand trembling as she reached for her phone.

She dialed.

Sirens sliced through the air.

Then—slam. A car swerved in front of the ambulance.

A paramedic yelled, "Car 6547, MOVE!"

Leah's eyes fluttered open.

Ian's car.

He saw the lights, heard the sirens, started to pull over—then Cecilia let out another fake sob.

Jaw clenched, he hit the gas.

Inside the ambulance: "Dr. Palmer, we're losing her! The bleeding won't stop!"

The doctor glanced at the blood-soaked drape. "We're out of time. Emergency surgery, now!"

"But the car's still blocking us—what now?!"

The driver didn't wait. He yanked the wheel, shot through traffic, blew the red.

Leah barely hit the ER doors when Ian burst in with Cecilia in his arms.

Before he could even open his mouth—

"Patient Leah Labelle—severe hemorrhage from miscarriage. Any family here?"

***

Hospital room.

Leah blinked awake, hand flying to her stomach.

Fingers caught hers—tight. "Leah, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I'll make it right—I swear."

Ian.

Pale. Shaking.

But all she saw was him walking away—with Cecilia in his arms.

She yanked her hand back.

She already knew.

The baby—the one she'd just found out about yesterday—was gone.

Tears slipped down, quiet.

Ian's voice cracked. "Leah, we can still have kids."

She looked at him. 'Yeah. Just not with you.' Then asked, "Where's Cecilia?"

He flinched. "She's... resting. It wasn't really her fault. You two just argued. It was an accident.

"She's still pregnant, and we can't risk stressing her. You've... already lost the baby. We can't let her lose hers too."

Her heart caved in. "Ian! That was our child! Our only child!"

They'd wanted that baby more than anything. Barely three months along.

"I know! I know!" He lunged, hugging her. "It's all my fault. Blame me, not her. She didn't mean it—she's just hormonal. Please don't hate her. I'll do anything to fix this. Just—please, forgive her."

She stared at him.

Still defending Cecilia.

More tears came.

She should've seen this coming.

Ian started to speak—but his phone rang.

Cecilia. Soft. Sweet. "Ian, my stomach's acting up again. Where are you?"

Before he could answer, Leah cut him off. "Go."

He looked at her, lost. Like he knew—she was done.

He squeezed her hand before leaving. "Wait for me. I'll be back."

The second he was gone, Leah sat up.

A nurse rushed in, gently easing her back. "You just had a hysterectomy. You can't move yet."

Hysterectomy.

She froze.

No uterus. No more babies. Ever.

The nurse's voice gentled, eyes darting away. "If you'd just gotten here a little earlier..."

'If only I'd gotten there earlier.'

She remembered the doctor shouting the license plate in the ambulance.

Then—tears. Heavy as rain.