𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 28 - You're not there

(revised)

There was something I loved about the month of September. It was seen by most as the end of summer, but for me, it was the beginning of the most beautiful season, when leaves turned red and gold and the sun was still warm. The landscapes were incredibly beautiful here in Scotland, with patches of copper ferns contrasting with the green of the grass. September offered a gorgeous palette of colours and the sweetest days, and I was so glad my baby would come to the world during that period, if everything went as planned. I had counted down the days and months, trying to predict when I would meet that little person. The last time I had been with Andrew was around Christmas, meaning end of September would be it. A few more days to wait. Fear and excitement had gradually overwhelmed me, but I knew everything would be fine. We would take a train back to London in a few days and I would have my baby there, where I would get all the help I needed.

The house was surprisingly quiet on that morning, just me and my thoughts. Cathy, Jane and James had walked to town to buy the few things we needed for our journey to London, while I had started packing some belongings. These last few months in the countryside had done me so much good. It had helped me control my anxiety and gave me time to grieve my husband, try to make peace with what had happened, even if I knew I would never accept his death. I would always miss him, there was not a day I was not thinking about him, but I had to move on for our baby. I would have to be twice as strong now that I was alone to protect this life, that part of Andrew. I would protect it from every danger in this world.

Still absorbed in my thoughts, I checked the temperature of the water that I would use for the laundry. I put the lid back on and stroked my belly, still in wonder at what my body had been creating for almost nine months. Almost nine months that I had seen my husband for the last time. Nine long months since I had said goodbye to him at the train station, that I had let him go, not knowing this would be the last image I would have of him. Had I known, I would have clung to him, I would have made our kiss last forever and told him a million times how much he meant to me.

I missed him more than anything in the world, my husband. I missed his voice, his laugh and his touch. I missed hearing his steady breathing at night and feel his warm skin against mine. It occurred to me that all of it had been lost forever, and even if I had known for a while, just thinking about it would break my heart every time.

I shook the thought out of my head, refusing to let myself become sad again. Life without him would never be the same but it did not mean it was over.

I poured the hot water in the basin next to me and enjoyed the sensation of the warm steam on my face, a soft caress on my skin. I cautiously lifted the big bucket and struggled to carry it outside, for it was quite heavy for a pregnant woman, as strong as she thought she was. But I managed to do it, slowly but carefully.

Maybe not carefully enough for when I finally reached the patio, I felt a striking pain in my stomach, so strong it made me drop my load. The water splashed onto the floor while I reached for the wall to find balance, my other hand supporting my belly. It was the worst timing for this familiar pain to come back, not so strong, not that close to my term.

I forced myself to breathe and the pain faded away after a few seconds, as it used to. I felt relieved, I knew how to manage, everything would be alright. I just had to rest, pick up that basin from the floor and do my chores later, but as I bent forward to collect the metallic container, the pain came back. It felt as if someone had stabbed me in the back and I clenched my teeth to keep myself from moaning under such suffering.

I pushed myself inside, to find somewhere to sit, but I had to stop in order to catch my breath, holding myself against the kitchen cupboard, waiting for the pain to disappear. It did not though, and instead I felt it, this warm liquid running down my legs. As I lowered my eyes to my feet, I saw a scarlet drop crash onto the blue tiles of the floor, closely followed by another. I immediately brought my hand to my crotch in fear, to be met with the damp clothing of my dress, and as I raised my fingers to my eyes, I noticed they were stained with blood. Panic crept over me. Blood could not be a good sign. Either I was giving birth early or I was losing my baby.