The late afternoon air cloaked the small clinic in a suffocating silence.

Inside the room, Evalina sat quietly on the edge of the bed, wearing a loose white t-shirt and pale blue pajama pants. Her face was pale, her hair lazily tied back. Her tired eyes stared blankly out the window.

She knew Hunter Jackson was trying. The man hadn’t left her side since the day she was found at the clinic. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

“What’s the point of love if it still hurts?” she whispered to herself.

Memories flashed through her mind—arguments, accusations, emotional wounds, and... loss. Evalina gently touched her stomach. Empty now. No life...