“The pregnancy is progressing,” the doctor said gently. “But there’s something you need to understand.”
Beatrice’s hand flew to her stomach.
“Is my baby okay?”
“It’s not the baby,” the doctor said softly. “It’s you.”
Ethan felt his heartbeat slam against his ribs.
“The mass we detected is not related to the pregnancy. It’s an aggressive uterine tumor.”
The world seemed to stop.
Beatrice swayed slightly. “What does that mean?”
“If you continue the pregnancy, we’ll have to delay full treatment. That reduces your survival odds significantly.”
Silence.
“And if I don’t continue?” she asked in a broken whisper.
“We could operate sooner.”
Beatrice closed her eyes. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not giving up my child.”
Ethan’s vision blurred.
“It’s the only thing in my life that didn’t leave me,” she said. “I’d rather give my baby life… even if it means I have less time.”
Something inside Ethan shattered.
She wasn’t hiding her pregnancy out of shame.
She was hiding it because she was dying.
And still choosing to protect her child.
Ethan covered his mouth, tears falling freely. He hadn’t cried since Emily’s funeral.