Page 105 of When We Were Us

A mischievous grin spread across Oliver's face. "It would be fitting because I plan on spoiling him like one."

I rolled my eyes, suppressing a laugh. "This kid is going to be impossible."

Oliver chuckled and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms above his head. I finished putting on my earrings and then laid my head on his thigh.

His hand came to rest on my hair, gently stroking. "Don't even think about it, Mrs. Fox," he warned, though his tone was more amused than stern. "I need a break. At least let's get something to eat."

I sighed dramatically. "Fine. Eat, then more sex."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his expression. "Is there a teenage boy inside you?"

I patted my belly, grinning at him. "Nope, just raging pregnancy hormones."

I jolted awake around midnight, the room bathed in the eerie glow of a television infomercial. Oliver slept peacefully beside me, oblivious to the strange sensation in my belly. At first, I dismissed the slight cramping, but then I felt an alarming wetness.

Heart pounding, I slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The sight that greeted me turned my blood to ice – crimson drops staining the sheets and streaking my thighs. Tears stung my eyes as panic clawed at my throat.

"Oliver," I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. When he didn't stir, I found my voice again. "Oliver!"

His eyes flew open, instantly alert. As his gaze fell to the blood between my legs, fear etched itself across his features. He leapt from the bed, stumbling in his haste.

"Something's wrong," I managed, my hands instinctively cradling my belly. The words I couldn't bear to speak hung in the air between us.

Oliver's face paled, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "We're going to the hospital. Now. Everything will be okay."

He fumbled for his phone, fingers trembling as he dialed. I shook my head, fighting against the rising tide of panic.

"Not Vlad," I gasped. "He won't get here in time. We need an ambulance."

Oliver nodded, already hanging up and dialing 911. As he spoke urgently into the phone, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the chaise, nearly tripping as he pulled them on.

"Sweetheart, we need to get you dressed," he said, ending the call.

I looked down at my blood-stained nightgown, my vision blurring. "In what? I'm bleeding, Oliver. I'm bleeding..."

The room began to spin, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. I heard Oliver's panicked shout as my knees buckled, and then everything went black.

When I came to, I was being loaded into an ambulance, the world a cacophony of sirens and urgent voices. Oliver's hand gripped mine tightly, his face a mask of barely contained terror.

"Please," he whispered, over and over. "Not again. This can't be happening again."

As the paramedics worked around me, administering medication and monitoring vital signs, I felt my heart shattering. The fear in Oliver's eyes, the desperation in his voice – it told me everything I needed to know about the gravity of our situation.

The doctor's words washed over me, a meaningless stream of medical jargon that couldn't penetrate the fog of grief enveloping my mind. My eyes fixed on the stark white wall, occasionally drifting to Oliver's face. His expression was a mask of stone, betraying nothing of the turmoil I knew must be raging within him.

"Mrs. Fox, do you understand what I just told you?" The doctor's gentle voice finally broke through my haze.

I looked up, meeting his kindly gaze, and managed a weak nod. Understanding wasn't the problem – accepting was. A scream built in my throat, threatening to tear free. Why us? Why now? A small, selfish part of me felt relieved we hadn't told my family about the pregnancy yet. At least we'd be spared the added pain of sharing this loss.

As the doctor quietly left the room, I whispered, "Oliver?"

His eyes met mine, but it was as if he was looking through me, focused on some distant point beyond. The emptiness in his gaze made my heart fracture anew.

"We should go home," he said, his voice flat and detached. "I have a conference call tomorrow at 8."

Shock jolted through me. "What? You're going to leave me home alone?"

Oliver's jaw clenched. "I have work to do. I need to be kept busy."

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