Page 108 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
Then memory came flooding back.
In a daze, I saw Vivian's hysterical face, like a demon crawling from hell, grinning maniacally.
My hand shot to my belly.
Flat.
It was flat.
Terror poured over me like ice water. I struggled to sit up, but my body wouldn't obey. Sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and I let out a muffled groan.
"Don't move."
Lucas's voice.
I turned my head. He sat in the chair beside the bed, practically sinking into it. He wore a loose long-sleeved loungewear set—unusual for him. His jaw was covered in stubble, his eyes bloodshot, his whole person haggard.
"Where's the baby?" My voice came out terribly hoarse. "Lucas, where's our baby?"
He froze, then stood and came to the bedside. His hand gripped mine, trembling slightly.
"Ella, don't get upset." He said. "The doctor said you just got past the critical stage, you can't—"
"Did the baby die?" Thunder crashed through my skull. I nearly passed out.
"Don't scare yourself, Ella." Lucas's words yanked me back to earth. "The baby came early. He's fine now."
I froze, afraid I'd misheard. "He's alive?"
"Yes, Ella. Because he's premature, he needs to stay in the incubator. But the doctor said his condition is stable. Once he gets through the next few days of the critical period, he'll be fine." He tightened his grip on my hand, his eyes burning with earnest intensity.
This kind of lie couldn't be fabricated. A baby was a living being. So the baby really was alive...
I went limp, like all the bones supporting me had been pulled out. But tears still spilled over—the urge to cry had been lodged in my throat, but this time they weren't tears of despair. They were tears of joy after surviving a catastrophe.
It was Lucas. With one sentence, he'd pulled me from hell back to heaven.
"A boy?"
Lucas nodded, smiling.
"I want to see him," my voice was garbled from crying. "Right now. I have to."
I tried to get up, but my body had no strength. Lucas saw my intention and immediately said, "I'll get a wheelchair. Wait for me."
He left the room, his footsteps nearly running. Minutes later, he returned, pushing a wheelchair, carefully lifting me, and setting me in it.
He was so attentive, even tucking a light blanket over my legs.
I looked at him in surprise, feeling Lucas had changed so much so suddenly.
He wheeled me out. The corridor was long and quiet, only our breathing and the wheelchair's rolling filling the space. The sky outside the windows was gray—impossible to tell if it was day or dusk.
I looked up at him. His profile was taut, his jawline sharp as a blade. But something in his eyes remained dim.
"Lucas." I grabbed the back of his hand.
He looked down at me, forcing a smile.
