It was supposed to be a good day.
Earn woke before the alarm. Her eyes adjusted to the pale morning light, while the drizzle outside draped the house in cool serenity.
The scent of congee drifted in from the kitchen, Jintana's cooking already filling the house with warmth. Somewhere in the background, an old playlist hummed softly, Fahlada's favorite, the songs they used to dance to in the living room.
Earn sat up slowly and touched her belly, still just a small swell beneath the blanket. But it was there, real, and a smile tugged at her lips.
Today, she didn't feel breakable. Her body felt strong, settled, and alive in a way she hadn't felt in weeks. Her fingers traced the small bump as she whispered, "Good morning."
She looked out the window and watched the rain fall, then closed her eyes, thinking about the new life forming inside her.
"You're doing so well," she murmured. "We've got this!"
Earn's gaze drifted across the bedroom, catching on the unfinished puzzle from the night before, its blues and greys scattered chaotically.
That evening was filled with laughter and intimacy as the married couple sat together over the puzzle, their fingers brushing as they reached for the pieces. Fahlada stayed by Earn's side until late, despite having surgery scheduled early the next morning.
The puzzle still waited, but what stayed with Earn most was Fahlada's hand over hers and the sound of her wife's laugh filling the room.
Before leaving for work, Fahlada bent down and pressed a kiss to her wife's forehead, then softly to her lips. They shared a meaningful smile, and she gently rested her palm on Earn's belly, leaning closer.
"Take it easy today," she said.
"If anything feels strange, just call me."
Earn had nodded, her hand covering Fahlada's. "I promise."
Everything seemed fine.
Earn had made plans to meet Susi, who had been pestering her to return to acting. Today, she decided it was finally time to share her pregnancy news with her manager.
They settled on an upscale tea house. Her mother had walked in with her earlier, until she briefly excused herself to use the restroom.
Earn lingered near the tea cup display, her eyes wandering, when she noticed a heavily pregnant woman passing by. The woman's belly was large, clearly close to delivery. A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her own baby,
Not long after, she spotted Susi at the entrance and waved, though a strange, queasy feeling settled in her stomach.
It began with a low pressure in her abdomen, not exactly painful, but heavy and off.
Instinctively, she sank into a nearby chair, cradling her stomach. Her chest tightened, and unease spread through her body.
Susi had just returned Earn's wave when she noticed something was wrong. Concern crossed her face as she rushed toward her.
"Earn! Are you okay?"
Earn couldn't reply. She tried to breathe, to focus her thoughts, to reassure herself that everything would be okay.
The first cramp hit; sharp, sudden, merciless.
And then… warmth trickled down her leg.
Blood.
Her heart lurched. No.
"Oh my God! What's happening?!" Susi's eyes widened at the sight of blood, her hand trembling as she gripped Earn's arm.
"Someone, please call an ambulance!"
Her voice cut through the air of the shop like an alarm. Chairs scraped against the floor as customers leapt to their feet, their attention snapping to the source. Some hurried over to offer help, while others reached for their phones to call for emergency assistance.
Susi quickly slipped off her jacket and laid it across Earn's lap, shielding her from the curious eyes in the shop. Though Earn's cap and glasses kept her from being recognized, Susi couldn't help but stay mindful of her image. Her instinct to protect her friend and talent extended beyond her role as a manager.
Earn leaned forward in her chair, one hand clutching the edge for support, the other shaking as she fumbled through her bag for her phone. Her body quivered violently.
"No… please, no… Not again," she whispered between waves of pain, tears blurring her vision as they slid down her cheeks. She wanted to call Fahlada, but her hands wouldn't obey.
Just then, Earn's mother pushed her way through the tables, drawn by the commotion. Her face was tight with fear, urgency quickening her steps as she rushed to her daughter's side.
She found Earn pale and trembling, blood seeping beneath her.
There was no time for questions; they had to act.
Through her tears, Earn's gaze found her mother.
"M-Ma…" she choked, her hand lifting weakly before dropping back to her stomach. The sight of her mother was both comforting and terrifying, a lifeline but also proof of how serious things had become.
Jintana dropped to her knees beside her daughter and took her hand, her grip firm with resolve.
"Let's get her to the car. It will be faster," she instructed Susi, her voice raised over the noise. With one hand steadying Earn's shoulders, she dug frantically through her bag to call Fahlada.
"Earn, breathe. We need to go now."
"I—I can't," Earn stammered, her voice breaking.
"It hurts, Ma… It's happening again."
Her mother's grip tightened in assurance.
"You're going to be okay. Hold my hand. Just keep breathing."
——
The ride to the hospital was suffocating. Rain poured heavily, and traffic crawled along the streets.
Susi sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly and frequently glancing up at the rearview mirror to check on Earn. She honked and shouted at the cars in front of her, asking them to move out of the way.
If she had known Earn was pregnant, she thought, she might never have agreed to meet her.
Earn leaned against her mother in the backseat, her body curled inward. Her mother held her tightly, letting the old prayers slip from her lips like a breeze, but broken, more rhythm than meaning. While Susi's heart pounded with helplessness, she wished she could take the pain away, that she could do more than just drive.
Every bump in the road sharpened the pain, spreading from Earn's lower back to her legs until her whole body felt out of control.
Her limbs went numb. Her vision dimmed.
Cold sweat clung to her skin.
She could not stop any of it. She felt powerless inside her own body, trapped in the pain that seemed to consume her from the inside out, silently asking herself, "Why is this happening?"
As soon as the car stopped, Earn's mother threw open the rear door and leaned outside, shouting for help toward the hospital entrance.
Earn tried to push herself up from the seat, but her knees buckled and she collapsed toward the pavement. Someone ran up and caught her before she could fall completely, their grip holding her upright as panic rippled through the crowd.
"Earn…"
A woman's calm voice cut through the chaos. Earn's eyes flickered, struggling to focus through the blur, as she saw Dr. Mekhin.
The same doctor who had been there for her first loss. The one who had held her hand when everything was falling apart. The one who had looked her in the eyes and said, "I'm so sorry," when there was nothing left to save.
Dr. Mekhin didn't smile. She only gave her a firm look and a nod.
"Let's get you inside," she said quickly, already guiding her forward. But Earn felt a wave of shame and sorrow wash over her. She didn't want to face anyone from that day.
A nurse arrived with a wheelchair, and together, she and Dr. Mekhin helped Earn sit down gently. When Earn looked down, she saw the blood soaked through her clothes, streaking her legs red. Her stomach twisted in response.
The sight pulled something deep and painful from her chest, and in that moment, she knew.
It had already happened. Again.
She closed her eyes. The surroundings, which were supposed to be loud with urgency, felt strangely quiet, and her mind went blank.
Inside the ER, everything moved quickly. The sharp scent of antiseptic mixed with the clatter of urgent footsteps and murmured orders from nurses as they moved in and out with practiced speed.
"We're going to take care of Earn. For now, you need to stay outside," Dr. Mekhin said to Jintana, who stood with Susi just beyond the door, hands clenched together as they whispered prayers through quiet sobs.
A nurse carefully helped Earn onto the bed and set up an IV line. Meanwhile, Dr. Mekhin checked her vital signs, including blood pressure, pulse, and oxygen levels. Her brow furrowed as she scribbled something quickly onto the chart.
"Pressure's low," a nurse murmured under her breath, adjusting the IV and hanging a fresh bag of fluids. Another nurse slipped out in a rush, returning moments later with a tray wrapped in sterile blue. Dr. Mekhin stepped briefly into the hall, her voice low and urgent as she made some calls, before re-entering with the same calm mask she always wore.
"Stay with us, Earn," she said as she came back to the bedside. She pressed two fingers to Earn's wrist, then glanced at the monitor.
"Her pressure's dropping more. Start the transfusion—move fast."
Earn barely registered any of it. Her body felt heavier by the second, her arms turning cold as the voices around her blurred into a dull hum, fading in and out, as if she were slipping beneath water.
Her breaths came shallow. She squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging this to be nothing more than a bad dream.
"Earn, look at me," Dr. Mekhin urged firmly, leaning close.
"Don't close your eyes yet. We'll check for the heartbeat, alright? But I need you to stay awake."
Only when the IV began to flow steadily did Dr. Mekhin reach for the Doppler. She applied the cold gel, her gaze darting once to the monitor, just for a second, but enough to make Earn's stomach twist.
Earn opened her eyes and realized her reality was worse than any nightmare.
The room fell into silence, broken only by the soft static hum of the machine and the faint whir of the monitors as Dr. Mekhin moved the probe slowly, left, then right.
Pause.
Left.
Right.
Earn's heart pounded, but her pulse felt faint, like it was slipping away from her. A cold sweat broke across her forehead. Her abdomen throbbed, and the pressure was unbearable, like something inside her was tearing apart.
Another movement in her stomach, but there was nothing.
No heartbeat.
No flicker of life.
Dr. Mekhin didn't speak. She simply turned off the machine and set it aside, her calm mask slipping for the briefest moment. Her gaze swept once more to the monitor tracking Earn's vitals, lingering there longer than before, and this time the tension in her jaw betrayed what her words did not.
Earn didn't move. She didn't cry. She just lay there and stared at the ceiling, as if not blinking might somehow freeze time.
She didn't need the monitor to tell her.
She already knew.
She continued to focus on the ceiling, on the sterile lights above, blinking slowly as her vision swam. The room felt distant, as if she were watching it through a fogged window. Her limbs were heavy, her chest tight. Every breath was a struggle, shallow and uneven. But her thoughts kept drifting toward the warmth spreading beneath her, the nurse's whispered urgency, and the subtle clench of Dr. Mekhin's jaw.
'This isn't supposed to happen. I've been so careful… or was I?'
Her fingers hovered near her stomach, too afraid to touch what was already gone. Her hands felt like ice, and then the door burst open, jolting her nerves. Her eyes burned as she heard the voice she didn't want to hear right now.
"Earn!"
Fahlada rushed in, her white coat soaked and rain dripping from her hair. Her face was pale with fear, eyes wide and frantic as she scanned the room. She ran to Earn's side, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it tightly, as if holding on could somehow stop their world from falling apart.
"I'm here, babe. I came as soon as I got the call," Fahlada said softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray the turmoil she was holding back. She forced herself not to break down in front of Earn, knowing that whatever pain she carried, her wife was feeling it ten, maybe even a hundred times more.
Earn didn't meet her gaze, but her fingers curled weakly around Fahlada's, a small, fragile lifeline that spoke louder than words ever could.
A nurse stepped forward, adjusting the IV line before administering something for the pain. Earn flinched slightly at the cool rush through her veins, then exhaled, her trembling easing just a little.
Dr. Mekhin's voice cut through the heavy silence.
"We'll confirm with an ultrasound."
Fahlada met her eyes and gave a small nod. Seeing Earn stable for now, Dr. Mekhin signaled the nurse, and they stepped back to give the couple a moment.
Fahlada drew in a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. One look at Earn's face, pale and stripped of light, was enough.
They had lost the baby.
Her gaze lingered, desperate to find even a flicker of denial, a trace of hope, but there was nothing. Only the red streaks around Earn's eyes were silent proof of the pain she had endured alone.
Fahlada wanted to speak, to ask something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.
Not when Earn looked like that.
All she could do was be there by her wife's side. Fahlada bent close, pressing a gentle kiss to Earn's forehead and brushing the loose strands of hair from her face.
Earn's eyes were still fixed on nothing, blank and empty, as though the world in front of her no longer existed. Her body already understood what her mind refused to accept. She stayed frozen, afraid that moving would shatter the fragile silence holding her together.
At last, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said,
"I… I messed up."
"No! Don't say that…" Fahlada tightened her hold, pressing her forehead to Earn's, her voice stiffening as her heart twisted at the thought of her wife blaming herself again.
"Don't blame yourself, my love. This isn't your fault, you did everything you could."
A sudden gasp escaped Earn, and she crumpled against Fahlada, unable to hold herself back any longer.
"Of course it is! I must've done something," she choked out as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Maybe I walked too far. Maybe I laughed too hard last night. Maybe I should've just stayed in bed—"
"Please… look at me," Fahlada cupped Earn's cheek, but Earn only turned slightly into her palm, her gaze clouded with a grief so heavy it seemed to blur the world around her.
"You couldn't have prevented this. Maybe the baby wasn't meant for us yet, but I'm still here, and we'll face this together, like always."
'I failed you again,' Fahlada wanted to say. 'I should've been there… maybe then—'
But the words caught in her throat. Because how could she protect them from this?
No amount of guilt or blame could turn back time, and the cruelest part was knowing that even her love wasn't enough to ease the pain her wife was carrying.
Earn turned her head to avoid Fahlada's gaze, tears escaping her eyes. Her body trembled under the weight of grief, a consuming emptiness threatening to swallow her whole. She hugged herself tightly, staring into the void.
'What did I do wrong? Why can't I keep them safe?'
She didn't know what to do, didn't know how to bear this pain a second time.