Three weeks passed in a blur of doctor appointments and pain medication. My wrist was healing, but the emotional wound of Calvin choosing Remy over me still felt raw. We'd barely spoken since that day at the café, though he'd sent a few text messages asking if I was okay. I hadn't responded.

I was sitting at my desk at work, trying to focus on quarterly reports, when the room suddenly tilted sideways. The numbers on my screen blurred together, and a wave of nausea hit me.

"Marina?" Someone called my name as darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.

I woke up to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the antiseptic smell of hospital sheets.

"Ms. Dixon?" A doctor with kind eyes stood beside my bed. "You fainted at work. Your blood pressure dropped significantly."

I tried to sit up, but dizziness forced me back down. "I've been feeling tired lately, but I thought it was just stress."

The doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse. "We ran some tests while you were unconscious. Your blood work shows elevated hCG levels."

"What does that mean?" My heart began to race.

"It means you're pregnant, Ms. Dixon. About three months along."

The words hung in the air between us. Pregnant? Three months? How could I not have known?

"There's more," the doctor continued, her smile widening. "You're carrying twins."

Twins. The word echoed in my mind like a miracle. Despite everything with Calvin, despite the pain and betrayal, life was growing inside me. Two tiny lives that were half mine.

"Would you like to hear their heartbeats?"

I nodded, tears filling my eyes as she placed the Doppler on my still-flat stomach. The rapid, rhythmic pulsing filled the room—two distinct heartbeats, strong and insistent.

"I need to call Calvin," I whispered, reaching for my phone with trembling hands.

The doctor frowned slightly. "Given your blood pressure issues, I'd recommend rest before any emotional discussions. But of course, this is your news to share."

I dialed Calvin's number anyway, my heart racing with excitement. This would change everything. Whatever was happening with Remy, whatever distance had grown between us—none of it mattered now. We were having babies.

The call went straight to voicemail.

"Calvin, it's me. I'm at Mercy Hospital. I have news—important news. Please call me back as soon as you get this."

I sent a text with the same message, then lay back against the pillows, one hand resting protectively over my stomach. The twins. Our twins.

---

Two days later, I was still in the hospital. My blood pressure had stabilized, but the doctors wanted to monitor me for pre-eclampsia symptoms. I was bored and restless, scrolling through my phone when I noticed an email notification from my bank.

"Unusual activity detected in linked account."

Frowning, I opened the message. Someone had withdrawn $15,000 from my parents' retirement account—the one I'd been given access to for emergencies. The withdrawal was made three days ago.

My stomach clenched as I called the bank to confirm. The transaction was legitimate—authorized by me, according to their records. But I hadn't touched that money.

"Can you tell me where the funds were transferred?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"The recipient is listed as 'Fireworks Spectacular LLC,'" the customer service rep informed me.

Fireworks. Remy's birthday was next week.

I called Calvin again, my hands shaking with rage now rather than excitement.

"What?" His voice was distracted when he finally answered.

"Where are you?" I demanded.

"Remy's moving into her new apartment. She needs help with the heavy stuff."

"Did you take money from my parents' retirement account?" I cut straight to the point.

A pause. "How did you find out about that?"

"That's not an answer, Calvin."

"It's just a loan," he said defensively. "I needed it for Remy's birthday surprise."

"A fifteen-thousand-dollar loan for fireworks?" My voice rose despite my efforts to stay calm. "That's my parents' retirement money, Calvin. They worked their whole lives for that."

"They'll never know," he insisted. "I'll pay it back eventually."

"Eventually? When? And what about my babies?"

Silence stretched between us. Then: "What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant, Calvin. Twins. And instead of being here with me, you're spending my family's life savings on fireworks for Remy."

"Remy was suicidal," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She said if I forgot her birthday this year, she'd jump off her balcony. I had to do something big."

I closed my eyes, feeling the last threads of hope snap inside me. "Get out of her apartment, Calvin. Come to the hospital. Now."

"I can't just leave her—"

"Then don't come back at all." I hung up, tears streaming down my face as I placed both hands over my stomach.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to my unborn children. "I'm so sorry he's not the man I thought he was."

The pain came without warning. One moment I was lying in the hospital bed, my hand resting protectively over my stomach, thinking about names for our twins. The next moment, fire seemed to consume my entire body.

"Help," I gasped, fumbling for the call button as waves of agony radiated from my abdomen. "Something's wrong."

Nurses rushed in, their faces tight with concern as they checked my vitals. The room spun around me as they spoke in urgent, clipped tones.

"Blood pressure dropping."

"Temperature's spiked to 104."

"Get Dr. Chen stat."

I tried to focus on their words through the haze of pain. Infection. Sepsis. Critical condition. The terms floated around me like menacing clouds.

"Marina, can you hear me?" Dr. Sarah Chen's face appeared above me, her eyes grave. "You have a severe infection that's spread rapidly. We need to perform emergency surgery immediately."

"I need to call Calvin," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "He needs to be here."

"We've been trying his number," a nurse said gently. "It goes straight to voicemail."

I closed my eyes, knowing exactly where he was. Remy's birthday celebration. The fireworks show he'd paid for with my parents' retirement money.

"Marina," Dr. Chen's voice was firm but kind. "We don't have time to wait. The infection is threatening both you and your babies. You need surgery now."

"He'll come," I insisted, though doubt gnawed at my heart. "He'll want to be here for this."

But as they wheeled me toward the operating room, my phone remained silent in the nurse's hand. No calls. No texts. Nothing.

---

"Marina." Dr. Chen's voice pulled me back from the fog of anesthesia. "I'm so sorry."

I blinked, trying to orient myself in the sterile recovery room. The pain had dulled to a persistent ache, but something else felt wrong—a hollowness I couldn't identify.

"The infection was more severe than we initially thought," she continued, her eyes filled with compassion. "We did everything we could, but..."

"But?" My voice sounded distant, even to my own ears.

"The twins couldn't be saved. We had to terminate the pregnancy to stop the infection from spreading further."

The words hit me like physical blows. Each one stealing my breath, crushing my chest.

"No," I whispered. "No, that can't be right. They were fine. I heard their heartbeats."

Dr. Chen took my hand, her grip warm against my cold fingers. "I know this is devastating news. But Marina, there's something else you need to know."

I stared at her, unable to process anything beyond the loss of my babies.

"The damage from the infection and the emergency procedure... it's possible you may not be able to conceive again. Not naturally."

Infertility. The word echoed in my mind like a death knell. First my twins, now my future children. All gone in an instant.

"Where's Calvin?" I asked, suddenly desperate for him despite everything.

"He just arrived," a nurse said, glancing toward the door. "Should I send him in?"

Before I could answer, Calvin stumbled into the room, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes reeking of alcohol and fireworks smoke.

"Marina," he slurred. "I came as soon as I could."

Three hours. He'd left me alone for three hours while I lost our children and possibly my ability to ever have more.

---

Two weeks later, I sat alone in our apartment, staring at my laptop screen. The wound in my body had begun to heal, but the one in my heart gaped wider with each passing day.

Calvin had been staying at Remy's new place, claiming he needed space to "process everything." I knew the truth—he was avoiding the reality of what had happened, running back to the comfort of his toxic friendship.

My phone buzzed with a notification. A tagged post on Instagram. I tapped it without thinking.

There they were—Calvin and Remy, arms wrapped around each other at some trendy restaurant. Her caption read: "Grateful for my rock through tough times. #CalvinLovesRemy #BestFriendForever"

The comments section overflowed with heart emojis and congratulations. Their couple account had gained thousands of followers overnight, their "epic friendship" becoming a viral sensation.

"When you're down, I'll always pick you up," Calvin had commented on her post, followed by a heart emoji.

I scrolled through their recent photos—smiling at a beach, laughing at a concert, posing with matching tattoos. All posted while I lay in a hospital bed mourning our lost children.

My finger hovered over the block button, but something stopped me. Instead, I opened my camera roll and stared at the ultrasound image Dr. Chen had given me—the only proof my twins had ever existed.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to their ghostly images. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."

Outside my window, fireworks exploded across the night sky—leftovers from Remy's birthday celebration continuing to light up the darkness while I sat alone in mine.