Chapter Text
MAYA POV
I stared at my phone, inert, silent, scared, nervous. The hand holding it was shaking. This couldn't be happening. Last night I arrived for my shift, said goodbye to her, kissed her, and held her face for a while longer. Something normal, something routine for us. She smiled at me before I walked out the bedroom door, and when I did, I stayed a second longer, because that smile meant everything to me.
And today she texted me saying she was on her way to work.
When was it? When did it happen? On which corner?
I didn't know what to say or what to do. This made my stomach clench, and I hated fate. Why us? Why now? Why today?
"Maya!" I heard someone speaking to me in the distance, as if distant, as if I were meters away and not face to face with the person trying to make me react. "Maya!" she repeated, and I just tried to focus my eyes on her. "What's wrong? Who called you?"
Andy's face showed concern for my emotional state.
"I...I...that was..." I stammered.
"Who?" Andy insisted.
"It was Bailey," I managed to force out my voice. "Umm... Carina just came into the emergency room. A drunk driver crashed her car while she was on her way to the hospital."
"Oh my God. Is she okay?" Andy asked. She stood up from her desk and approached me.
"I... I don't know." I looked at my phone again, as if I was waiting for another call, But what else could it tell me? "She asked me to go to the emergency room right away."
"Go then," she said, opening the door of her office. "I'll tell Warren to take you to the hospital because you're in no condition to drive."
I nodded weakly. I heard Andy calling Warren and saw his face twist with worry when Andy told him what was happening. Then I felt him take my arm and lead me to the ambulance. It was as if my whole being had forgotten how to function, as if my legs had forgotten how to walk.
On the way, I couldn't stop thinking about her, how happy she was when she told me she was pregnant. How her eyes had lit up when she told me the big news. Her laughter as we discussed names. We had made plans, small at first, not wanting to get too excited, but as time went on, our plans grew too. Now each of those memories threatened to drown me, not knowing for sure what was happening.
"Are you okay?" Ben asked next to me.
"I just need to get to Carina," I replied without taking my eyes off the road.
The drive from the station to the hospital was usually short, sometimes only five or ten minutes. But now it felt like I'd been sitting in this vehicle for half an hour; I felt like I'd hit every red light at every stoplight, which sent more vibrations through my nervous system.
When we finally arrived at the ER, I didn't wait for Ben and ran out of the ambulance, looking for someone who could give me some information, anything. My heart was beating so hard I felt like it would burst out of my chest at any moment. The nurse in the ER admissions area, who already knew me, told me she'd call Bailey. Luckily, Bailey only came out in five minutes, even though it felt like an eternity.
"Maya!" she said, gesturing for me to come over to her.
"How's Carina?" I asked.
"She's sedated for now," she answered immediately. "They're still evaluating her. She was wearing a seatbelt, so the impact on her body wasn't as severe, but we think the sudden movement caused her head to hit the window."
I nodded, trying to process her words. "And the baby?"
She looked at me, confused. ‘Oh, shit.’ "What baby?"
"Carina is three months pregnant, Bailey," I answered hurriedly. "Today she was going to announce it here. She turned twelve weeks, two days ago."
She didn't say anything else, she just ran out urgently.
I ran after her, pushing open the trauma room doors at the precise moment Bailey urgently requested an ultrasound. Webber looked at her in confusion, and Bailey didn't waste a second explaining. So everyone started moving urgently, the nurses running, their voices overlapping. The air was filled with tension between all the urgency and the beeping machines.
"Page Wilson!" Bailey shouted.
But my gaze was lost. It was fixed on her, on her body, so still under everyone's scrutiny. She seemed to be resting, her face showed no pain, and for a second I preferred to believe that to this stupid reality where she was unconscious because some fucking idiot decided to drive drunk and harm my family.
Everything was a blur. Everyone was moving frantically, even though Bailey had told me the damage to her body hadn't been that severe, but the fact that Carina was pregnant changed everything. Every decision they'd made up to that point had shifted in weight because they'd only thought about one life. Not two.
Then everything they'd done became uncertain.
Jo arrived with the ultrasound. Her face reflected concern, but she remained professional throughout. She was our ob-gyn, so she already knew about our pregnancy. Without saying anything, she looked at me compassionately before focusing her full attention on Carina and applying gel to her belly. Almost everyone held their breath, as did I. Jo examined Carina, moved the probe repeatedly, and found the little sac that had made me cry of pure joy a while ago. But when Jo looked at me with her pale face, she didn't need to say anything. I just knew.
It was a sad, worried look.
"Maya, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely audible.
The blood began to freeze in my veins as fear invaded me. I felt that with the loss of the baby, the possibility of losing Carina grew stronger. I didn't know if she could bear this loss after everything she'd been through. And I didn't know what else to think except to hope that this wasn't what would finally break her.
I clenched my jaw, holding back the tears that threatened to spill out. I didn't want to cry there. Especially since Jo, Webber, and Bailey were staring at me with unbearable sadness in their eyes. Their silence was louder than my heartbeat and the sound of the machines surrounding Carina.
"What was it?" I asked.
"Placental abruption due to trauma," Jo answered. Then she walked closer to me. "The impact of the seatbelt or the steering wheel can cause the placenta to detach from the uterus, disrupting blood flow to the baby."
My chin trembled, and I looked back at my wife. "What happens now?"
"She doesn't have any major injuries," Bailey replied. "The most serious injury was the blow to the head, which Amelia has already ruled out as a serious concussion. She just needs to be kept under observation. We'll evaluate her again tomorrow.."
"And regarding..." I didn't want to say it. I couldn't. I knew my voice would crack.
"We'll give her something to expel it," Jo replied. "It won't be necessary to have surgery."
The lump in my throat made it hard to breathe. This was too much, and for a moment I thought I'd break right then and there. This year had been too much, one blow after another. I couldn't take it anymore, and seeing her lying there, not knowing how our world had changed, I didn't know if she could take it or not.
My heart was frozen at this moment, refusing to beat.
—
I felt completely useless in this situation. Carina had been moved to a private room for observation. Amelia arrived a few minutes later, also with a look of grief on her face, also with that heavy silence. She told me about the blow to Carina's head and that she had given her a sedative because she had arrived at the hospital clearly having a panic attack, unable to breathe and unable to speak, which made the emergency examination difficult. Perhaps that's why she couldn't tell the others she was pregnant. Perhaps she wasn't able to. Perhaps she didn't have the opportunity.
But she told me it would pass little by little, that the sedative would wear off eventually. She looked at me doubtfully before asking if I wanted her to accompany me when I had to break the sad news to Carina, but I shook my head no. I needed to do it in private. That was something private between her and me.
Amelia nodded, understanding the situation. She told me she would keep her sedated a little longer, so she suggested I go home to change clothes and bring what I needed. She would authorize me to spend the night with Carina so I could be there when she woke up. For a moment, even considering leaving, even for an hour, seemed like an unbearable notion. But I needed that moment alone; I needed to compose myself so I could be strong for her.
I called an Uber. It was already lunchtime. I saw people strolling the streets, smiling, focused on their phones, or deep in conversation. They were all having a perfectly normal day.
Totally different from what I was experiencing.
When I arrived at the house, I stood outside for a few minutes. This house had been Carina's dream. We had a kitchen just to her liking and a large patio where the kids could run around and she could plant whatever herbs and vegetables she wanted.
Later on, I wanted to build a treehouse. When we had a three or four-year-old, so they could enjoy it and have a place to dream.
God! I loved this house from the very first moment, especially with all the things Carina imagined we would do with this place.
We've been married for three years and it feels like I've had her with me my whole life. The day she proposed to me, after the biggest fight we've ever had in our relationship, is perhaps one of the best memories I have.
It implies that despite everything, we come back to each other.
When we were a year into our marriage, she started talking about babies. That was our next big fight, because I didn't want to. Or at least I thought I didn't. Now I understand that it was fear of being like my father.
But a family and a life with her? I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. So we started trying and it hasn't been an easy road. After several failed attempts, a mental health crisis, and a separation, I managed to get her back and try again. That's when we bought this house.
I shook those thoughts out of my head.
As I entered the house, it felt cold. Carina, as always, had left in a hurry, and her dirty coffee cup was on the sink. A half-eaten sandwich on the counter. The bed was unmade, and the wet towel was thrown on the bathroom floor.
She was a whirlwind, and I loved her for it.
I started organizing everything. Washing dishes, doing laundry, making the bed, tidying the bedroom, tidying the bathroom. Anything to keep myself busy and not think about the pain that was consuming me.
We could try again, and I knew it. This had nothing to do with her body's ability to carry the pregnancy to term. It was an accident. Regrettable and unfortunate, but an accident nonetheless.
But I sat up in bed, and the scent of her perfume overwhelmed me. I couldn't take it anymore. The tears began to flow rapidly, one after another, uncontrollably. My pain became very acute, and I cried for this baby we would never know. I cried for the loss. I cried for the pain I knew Carina would feel. My sobs filled the house, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
After a few minutes, I managed to calm down. I decided to take a shower to try to erase some of what I was feeling.
When I left, I decided to wear only joggers and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. I needed to feel comfortable. I packed a small bag with some essentials and some clothes for Carina when she was discharged.
The trip back to the hospital seemed endless again. I hadn't eaten anything today. I hadn't had time to eat breakfast yet. But I wasn't hungry either.
When I arrived at the hospital, I went straight up to Carina's bedroom. No one was with her, so I sat next to her bed and held her hand.
The hours began to pass, and all I saw was this room, completely devoid of any emotion. All the walls were the same color.
After we got back together, we had tried four artificial inseminations, without results. And I could see how Carina faded with each negative result. Her smile no longer reached her eyes and at times even seemed forced.
When I asked her to take a break from trying to get pregnant, it was terrible. I spent about a week sleeping in the guest room because she felt I didn't want this with her anymore. Couldn't she see that all of this was hurting me too? That I didn't want to do this with anyone but her? She was the one who taught me what a family was. She made me want to have one with her.
So, after that week, I suggested we get tested. It turned out that we could continue trying for insemination, but the odds were low. I suggested IVF. She was skeptical at first, but we decided to try it.
We decided that we would both go through the egg retrieval process. My eggs were fertilized with sperm whose features were very similar to Carina's. And Carina's with sperm whose features were very similar to mine. We decided we didn't want to know the origin of the embryo.
We managed to have eight viable embryos. The clinic made us sign a document stating that we were both "owners" of all the embryos. I hated that term. It was included in all cases: divorce, death, incapacity of one of us. That way, the other could decide for both of us in a situation where the other felt unable to.
When we used the first embryo, Carina spent almost two days lying in bed with her legs up against the wall. She said she wanted gravity to do its thing. I laughed, joking about the methods doctors use today. She laughed too, and I felt we were back on track.
When that first test came back positive, Carina screamed with joy. We found out two weeks later. And we entered a kind of honeymoon. Everything was perfect.
Every night I read aloud so the baby could get used to me. Carina laughed and told me that its hearing wasn't yet developed. I insisted that I didn't care. She had her methods, and I had mine.
We dreamed of a child running on the beaches of Sicily. We dreamed of a child I would teach how to roll the hoses at the station. We dreamed of names and how we would decorate the nursery.
I thought of this house we had decided to buy, thinking our family would grow.
The first ultrasound was everything. I was so nervous, but Carina, with her calm and infinite wisdom, managed to calm my nerves a little. When Jo moved the ultrasound over Carina's belly and found that little sac, my world became completely focused on that sac. Then Jo. surprised me by turning on the audio and I could hear my baby's heartbeat.
My baby. It seemed so strange to say it, but Carina was carrying my baby.
Their heartbeat was so strong and I knew I would protect that heartbeat with my life if necessary.
How could all that have gone in a second?
A groan next to me brought me back from my memories. Carina was waking up, her brow furrowed. Amelia explained that she would have a severe headache as a result of the accident and the sedatives.
"Babe?" I whispered, as Amelia had asked. But her brow furrowed. She tried to open her eyes and closed them again.
I thought maybe the light was too strong for her headache. So I turned off the light, closed the door, and closed the bedroom blinds, plunging us into semi-darkness. It was getting dark, so there was some light, though not enough to disturb the darkness I needed in the room right now.
"Thanks," she replied, also whispering. But this time she managed to open her eyes a little and looked at me directly. "What happened?"
I sat next to her, holding her hand. "Your car was hit by a drunk driver, but they think the force of the crash caused you to hit your head on the window," I explained, still whispering. "Apparently, you came in with a panic attack, so they had to sedate you."
"Did they sedate me?"
"Yeah, they had to do it," I continued explaining. "Amelia said you'd have a headache from the blow and the sedatives."
"Did I have any injuries?" she asked, wiggling her fingers and toes.
"No, you were wearing a seatbelt, so you didn't have any major injuries," I told her, but this time I didn't want to look at her because there weren't any major injuries, but something serious had happened.
"The seatbelt..." she said, as if she were remembering something. "The baby... How is the baby?"
I opened my mouth several times, but words failed me. I couldn't say it. It would become a reality, and I would have to break Carina's heart. I wasn't prepared to see the darkness settle over Carina. I was still holding her hand, trying to ground myself.
"Maya?" I looked into her eyes, and there was understanding in them. She had realized what had happened.
"Jo said..." I cleared my throat a little, trying to get some of my voice out. "Jo said it was a placental abruption due to trauma."
This time it was her mouth that opened and closed several times, without making a sound. Tears began to fill her eyes with impressive rapidity, so soon they began to fall down her face.
"Carina..." But her sobs interrupted my voice, and I tried to get closer, but she pulled her hand away from mine.
Suddenly, I felt empty, inadequate, as if I were interrupting her in a very private moment. Carina covered her face with her hands and cried. I let her and didn't say anything. I let her vent in peace, as I had the opportunity to do in our house.
It was a cry that came from her soul, and I cried just seeing her like that. My heart was already broken, and it broke even more seeing how devastated she was.
After a while, she calmed down, but I noticed the change. It was as if she were dissociating herself from her emotions. Her face looked stern, lacking the sweetness and teasing that normally permeated her.
"We can try again," I told her.
"Sure," she said, again without anything in her voice.
Finally, she turned away from me, curling into a fetal position. And I stared at her back, wondering if I had lost not only a baby that day, but also my wife.
—
I thought a little rest would do us all better. Especially Carina. But the next day was worse.
It was clear Carina hadn't slept all night. Her red, swollen eyes showed she'd cried more than once. It wasn't as if I hadn't heard her. I sat in the chair next to her bed, trying to be as comfortable as possible, in the dark and quiet. Her quiet sobs were perfectly audible in the silence of the room, but after two attempts, I gave up trying to comfort her. She didn't want me around.
And her dark circles under her eyes were so pronounced.
Amelia came into the room to check on her, and Carina answered everything in monosyllables, her voice deep and stern, leaving no room for conversation. Amelia looked into my eyes, searching for an explanation, but I had none. She even tried to joke with Carina, to generate a reaction, but Carina just grunted and settled back into bed.
Amelia explained that she would come later with Bailey to examine her, and depending on that, they could release her. Carina didn't react.
"Love, did you hear Amelia?" I asked softly, but I didn't get a reaction either.
"Jo's coming too," Amelia continued, confused by Carina's reaction.
"Whatever," Carina was heard saying.
Amelia signaled me to come out with her, and I followed. Carina didn't seem to care what I did. As I left, I closed the door and faced Amelia.
"Maya, what was that?" she asked immediately.
I sat down in one of the chairs outside the room, and tears filled my eyes. "I don't know. I swear I don't know."
"But did she wake up like that?" she asked, sitting next to me.
"No. It's not something medical, if that's what you're thinking," I answered immediately. "She's been like this since she found out we lost the baby. She won't let me get close, she won't let me comfort her. Nothing."
"Maya..." she said sadly. "You lost the baby too, and you're not behaving like this."
"I don't know what's going on, Amelia." I confessed. I saw Wilson and Bailey approaching, but I couldn't continue with my heart so tight. "Not even when I had my mental breakdown did she get like this. I don't know what she'll do or what she'll say to me." Bailey and Wilson looked at me, understanding a little of what was happening. "I feel... I feel like I lost Carina."
"Maya, no," Bailey was the first to speak. "She's going through a grieving process, and no one knows better than you everything you girls have been through trying to have a baby. But don't lose faith in her."
"I haven't lost faith in her, Bailey," I replied, tears streaming down my face. "But I think she's lost faith in me."
Bailey wanted to add something else, but Amelia gestured for her not to. They hadn't seen Carina yet; they didn't know how she was.
"Be patient with her," was all Amelia told me.
I nodded and entered the room, followed by the three doctors. Each one explained Carina's injuries and diagnosis to us. She didn't move a muscle, her face unreadable, and her gaze fixed on some distant point, as if everything they were saying didn't apply to her.
However, when Wilson explained what had happened to the baby, it was as if Carina had come to her senses. Her voice was harsh and sharp, as she asked question after question to Jo. She asked a thousand questions, interrogated her, asked her every detail, perhaps trying to find a logical explanation for what she was feeling at that moment. Perhaps even asking herself the same questions I asked myself. Why us? Why now? Why this baby?
Jo stoically endured each question and was clear in each answer. Her voice was firm in the face of Carina's inquisition. She explained the treatment followed with a mixture of firmness and compassion that only she could have, having been Carina's student, having learned everything from her.
Carina stared at them, once she'd finished her questions. Her face was expressionless, and I truly feared for her. Then she leaned back, her shoulders tense, and she stared at a fixed point on the wall, her back to me, not paying attention to anything else they were saying. As if her entire world was that fucking point on the wall.
Bailey explained the terms of her discharge: that she had been discharged and that she would be on bed rest for four days, without exertion. After that, they left the room. I stayed with her, and the silence was unbearable.
A nurse arrived with the discharge papers. Carina got dressed and didn't allow me to help her. Her movements were slow, hard, and firm. She was going to refuse the wheelchair, but I told her they wouldn't let her out without it. She looked at me again as if considering my words, but she knew better than I did. She had explained this to her patients many times. Only then did she sit down.
I drove her to the hospital exit and we got in my car. Those two days had changed everything, and I felt alone, abandoned, and emotionally drained again. Carina was by my side, but it was as if her entire being and essence had been left behind in that hospital. It was as if the version of us that was light and happy had died yesterday.
The ride home was silent. She didn't even look at me. The air was heavy between us.
When we arrived, she left first and went inside, without waiting for me or saying anything. I grabbed the bag I'd brought to the hospital with our essentials. When I entered, I didn't see her. The house felt dark, as if a storm cloud was hanging over us. I went to the bedroom and saw the door was closed. I tried to get in, but it was locked.
"Carina?" I knocked, calling softly.
But there was no answer. I tried three more times before retreating to the guest bedroom. I made the bed with tears in my eyes, and with trembling hands, once made, I lay down. Fatigue had taken over my body, and everything felt heavy.
But I couldn't sleep, and my gaze was fixed on the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking that maybe, just maybe, I had lost Carina too.