Ivy
I was dreaming of him.
Of warm skin, soft lips, and fingers tracing lines along my back as I curled against his chest. Damian held me like I was precious. His breath touched the crown of my head as he whispered my name, like he was trying to hold the sound of it inside him forever.
We were laughing. Kissing. The baby kicked between us, and Damian pressed his hand to my stomach, eyes shining with something so soft it made my throat ache.
Then he said it again.
“Ivy.”
Only this time it was distant.
And when I opened my eyes, the bed beside me was empty.
The dream dissolved into sterile white walls and the scent of bleach. A slow, painful beeping from the monitor next to me kept time with my pulse.
I blinked.
The pain hit me second. The hollow, sharp crack of disappointment.
He
