“You did not say that.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
She stood slowly.
“Did you ask me to marry you because my dad saved you?”
“No.”
But the answer came too slowly.
Clara noticed.
Her face changed.
“You feel sorry for me.”
“No.”
“You think I need you.”
“That is not what I think.”
“You said no secrets.”
“I know.”
“You made a secret.”
She looked at me.
“Did you know?”
I could not lie.
“I found out a few days ago.”
Clara’s breathing quickened.
“Everyone knows except me.”
“No,” Ethan said. “That isn’t true.”
“You talked about me.”
“Clara, listen to me.”
“I am listening.”
“You are upset. We should sit down.”
Her face tightened.
“Do not talk to me like I am a child.”
Ethan froze.
She took one step backward.
Then she gasped.
Her hand moved to her stomach.
A dark wet stain spread across the front of her trousers.
“Ethan,” she whispered.
He dropped the cleaning cloth.
Clara looked terrified.
“The baby.”
At Saint Orison Medical Institute, doctors discovered a partial placental abruption.
The bleeding had stopped, but Clara would need to remain under observation. At twenty-six weeks, the baby was far too early to be born.
Ethan stayed beside her bed.
Clara turned her face toward the wall.
