Half an hour later, the test results were back.
The doctor walked over to Alexander, his expression serious as he held the lab report.
“You’re the patient’s husband, correct? She was pregnant, but she is now showing signs of a complete miscarriage. The fetus cannot be saved.”
Alexander’s body went rigid. “What did you say?”
“She was pregnant?”
It all clicked into place. He finally understood why Danielle had looked so unwell lately, why she had dry-heaved in the office, and why she had so frantically hidden the test results at the hospital that morning.
She had been pregnant, and he had known nothing.
“Yes. And from the looks of it, she’s likely been experiencing morning sickness. That, combined with external stress or overexertion, is what led to the miscarriage.” The doctor glanced at him. “As her husband, what on earth have you been doing?”
“You didn’t even know your wife was pregnant enough to take proper care of her. Now that this has happened, you should go see her. Her emotional state must be very fragile right now.”
The word “husband” was a knife in Alexander’s chest.
He didn’t offer an explanation. He just nodded and walked quickly toward her room.
In the hospital room, Danielle was propped up against the headboard, her face still ghostly pale, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
The pain in her abdomen was gradually fading, but the ache in her heart was becoming unbearable.
The doctor’s words echoed in her mind.
“The fetus cannot be saved.”
Even though she had already decided to give up this child, now that it was truly gone, she felt as if a part of her had been hollowed out, an agony that left her breathless.
The door opened softly, and Alexander walked in.
He stood by her bedside, looking at her vacant expression.
He said nothing.

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