In the medical room, Zimo lay on the hospital bed, murmuring softly.
"The child, my child..."
Only at this moment, as she was about to lose the child, did she suddenly realize how reluctant she was.
Although the child in her belly was still small, Zimo could feel its presence.
She had already felt the child's life slipping away little by little, getting weaker.
Mu Lingchuan sat by the bed, holding her hand tightly, staying by her side.
At this moment, he felt deeply distressed as well, having just learned that Zimo was carrying his child, only to immediately face all this.
"Young Master, the baby's heart rate is dropping, you must be prepared."
Even though Mu Lingchuan looked tense, the doctor still had to tell him this fact.
Mu Lingchuan's hand trembled slightly, grasping Zimo's hand tighter.
He understood what the doctor meant.
Mu Lingchuan looked at Zimo and asked hoarsely, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
