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At the hospital, they got me onto a trolley fast.

A nurse cut away my wet clothes. The antiseptic smell hit the air immediately. The doctor took one look and started calling out: "Significant haemorrhage in a pregnant patient — prep for emergency D&C —"

Pregnant.

I lay on the operating table and let the tears go sideways into my hair, silently.

That child — that secret I'd kept for six months, that surprise I'd been planning, the thing I'd let myself want — was gone. Lucas had taken it from me without knowing it existed.

The anaesthetic pulled me under.