Five simple words. Five words that shattered the future Sunny had just begun to imagine.
“Are you sure?” The question escaped before she could stop it, desperate and pleading.
Dr Chen’s eyes were compassionate but certain. “Yes. Based on the examination and your symptoms, you’re experiencing what we call a spontaneous abortion — a miscarriage. It’s very common in early pregnancy, affecting up to twenty percent of known pregnancies.”
The clinical terms washed over Sunny, making no impression. She could only focus on the pulsing absence where hope had been just hours before. Their baby — that tiny constellation of cells that had represented so much — was gone.
“Why?” she managed to ask, her voice barely audible.
“Most early miscarriages happen because of chromosomal abnormalities that prevent proper development,” Dr Chen explained gently. “It’s nature’s way of ending pregnancies that wouldn’t be viable. It’s nothing you did or didn’t do. Nothing you could have prevented.”
Sunny nodded mechanically, though the words meant nothing in that moment. All she could feel was the cavernous emptiness opening inside her.
“We need to discuss next steps,” Dr Chen continued. “Your body has begun the process naturally, but we should make sure it completes properly.”
Sunny barely registered the discussion that followed — medical options explained in gentle but straightforward terms She agreed to whatever the doctor recommended, signing forms placed before her with a hand that didn’t feel like her own.
In a brief moment of clarity, she asked, “Can I call someone first? The father… he doesn’t know yet.”
Dr Chen nodded. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll give you some privacy.”
Alone in the examination room, Sunny pulled out her phone with trembling fingers. Liam’s practice would be over by now. She pressed his contact, listening to the ring with her heart in her throat.
He answered on the third ring, slightly breathless. “Hey, I just saw your message. What’s up?”
The forced casualness in his voice told her he was likely surrounded by teammates. Shecouldn’t do this to him there.
“Are you still at the rink?” she asked.
“Yeah, just finishing up. Everything okay? You sound weird.”
Sunny closed her eyes, summoning strength from some hidden reserve. “I need you to come to Memorial Medical Center. I’m in the Women’s Health wing.”
A beat of silence. Then his voice, lower, more guarded: “Sunny? What’s going on?”
“It’s the baby,” she whispered, the words catching on a sob that had been building since the doctor left the room. “Liam, I lost the baby.”
Sunny
The silence that followed seemed to stretch for eternity.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Liam finally said, his voice tight with controlled emotion.
Those fifteen minutes were the longest of Sunny’s life. She sat perfectly still on the edge of the examination table, staring at the mint-green wall without seeing it. There were no tears yet — just a hollowness expanding inside her chest, pressing against her ribs until it hurt to breathe.
She had never felt more alone than in that sterile room with its medical posters and antiseptic smell. The isolation triggered a memory she’d long tried to bury — sitting in a similar institutional room sixteen years earlier, legs dangling off a chair too tall for her nine-year-old frame. The social worker had stepped out “just for a minute” after explaining that her foster family had decided they “weren’t a good fit” after all.
“Wait right here, Sunny. Someone will come for you soon.”
Three hours she’d waited in that room with its beige walls and motivational posters, clutching her small backpack of belongings. Three hours of staring at the door, hope gradually fading with each passing minute, until she finally understood that no one was rushing to claim her.
That same crushing pressure in her chest, that same suspended animation — waiting for someone to arrive and make everything better, knowing deep down that some things couldn’t be fixed.
But not even during her worst days in foster care had she experienced this particular flavor of isolation — the unique solitude of carrying grief for someone who had barely existed, yet had already claimed such a significant place in her heart.
True to his word, Liam arrived in exactly fifteen minutes.
Sunny heard his voice in the hallway first — deep, urgent, demanding to know where she was. When the door swung open, he stood frozen for a moment, still in his practice clothes, hair damp with sweat, eyes wild with fear.
