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I shake my head. All empathy drains from his face.
“I figured.” He raises his hand and brings it down harshly onto my face. He does it over and over and over again.
He grabs me by the arm and slings me from one wall to another. Everything he’s ever done to me, the stalking, the abuse, the manipulation, none of it could compare to this.
I can feel my tummy trauma with every thud, and all I can do is weakly crawl away, only to be kicked onto my back again. I cry out in pain and despair, but he doesn't stop.
The heavy pressure on my stomach is relieved when Evan comes sprinting into the room, clawing at the son of a bitch’s throat and slamming him onto the ground. He doesn’t have time to react or breathe as Evan gets on top of him and rushes a barrage of punches.
The beaten man refuses to go down without a fight, getting in a few solid punches, but nothing is as strong or detrimental as the protection-driven, hatred-fueled wounds he is given. Blood pours, and a tooth is knocked out until he is unconscious, his face swelling faster than a balloon. Pretty soon, he is unrecognizable, but it's too late.
The damage is done.
“Isabella!” Evan runs over to me, tears welling in his eyes. He scoops me up and takes me to the lobby; police officers and ambulances roll up to the building. They try asking me questions and figure out what is wrong, but I can’t answer.
Everything looks like smudged watercolor, and I can’t think of anything besides my daughter.
Much of it is a blur. Late into the night, I wake up on a hospital bed, Evan by my side.
“Isabella,” he says with a smile, squeezing my hand. “Are you okay?” I look around, taking in my surroundings. My hand grazes my stomach, feeling oddly empty.
“Is she…okay?”
Evan’s face drops. That's my answer. She didn’t make it. I learned later that night that the monster survived, but at least he’ll be rotting in jail like he deserves to.
They hand me a miscarriage box. Opening it feels too daunting, or perhaps it just seems too delicate. All I have left of her is this.
It's incredibly heartbreaking, but I'm relieved it's finally over. There is no longer a threat hanging over me. It's just Evan and I.
Chapter nineteen
Finding Our Way
Ileavethehospital,clutching the small box tightly, afraid it might shatter. It's hard to believe something so small can bearso much significance.
Evan's car awaits us, and we silently drive to his penthouse. He's been my rock, but even rocks can crumble. Each day bleeds into the next, a monotonous loop of grief and reflection. The threat that once loomed over me, over us, is gone.
Inside the penthouse, I often find myself looking out over the city, lost in thought. Evan respects my space, occasionally leaving notes or sending soft glances my way as if to say, "I'm here when you're ready."
One morning, while I’m wrapped up in a plush blanket on the couch, memories from the hospital returning unbidden, Evan sits beside me.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispers with a hint of caution in his voice.
I shake my head. "Not yet. Soon." It's a promise.
With each passing sunrise, the fog of pain lifts a little more. With every sunset, I grow more comfortable with talking about it and facing that anguish head-on.
Finally, on a quiet evening, the warm hues of sunset illuminating the living room, Evan breaks the silence.
"Isabella," he says gently, his eyes searching mine, "I've watched you go through this pain, and it breaks my heart. Please let me in. Share this burden with me. She would have been my daughter, too."
A tear escapes my eye as I look back at him. "Evan, that is so kind of you to say. I realize I've been distant. Your patience means a lot to me. It's been so hard reconciling everything."
He reaches out, taking my hands in his. "I know," he murmurs, his voice tinged with pain. "You don't have to go through this alone."
Tears glisten in my eyes as I look up. "I've been trying to find a way to move forward. A way to heal."
Evan's fingers trace circles on the back of my hands. "We will. Together."
