Twist of Fate

Shattered Hope

Lyra's POV

After months I experienced an emotion other than despair for the first time. A delicate and eager hope began to grow within me. Perhaps this could mend us. Perhaps a baby would make Killian recall the reasons behind our marriage. Perhaps he would care for our child even if he couldn't love me.

That night I stood near the door gripping the pregnancy test tightly as if it were my saving grace.

When Killian entered I hurried over to him bursting with excitement. "Killian, I have something to tell you. Great news."

He scarcely glanced at me proceeding to hang up his jacket. "What?"

I extended the test with my grin shaking. "We're going to have a child."

He gazed at the rod for several seconds. Then his eyes locked with mine. They appeared vacant.

" What?" he replied without emotion.

The expectation, in my heart, faded. "So... I assumed you'd be glad. We're about to become parents."

Killian's lip twisted into what could count as a smile if it weren’t so bitter. "Are we?. Are you merely attempting to ensnare me deeper into this farce of a marriage?"

The words struck me as if they were strikes. "What? No I…"

"Do you believe a child will solve our problems?" He chuckled, bitter and icy. "You really expect me to begin caring for you just because you got pregnant? You're more miserable than I imagined."

My eyes stung with tears. "Killian I beg you…"

"We'll find out if it lasts all." He shoved past me, his shoulder knocking into mine with force to make me stagger. "The majority of pregnancies end up failing anyway."

He vanished up the staircase leaving me alone in the hallway gripping the test overwhelmed as if my whole world had shattered.

---

Following that the violence intensified.

The infant didn't mellow him. Instead it aggravated him as if my pregnancy was an offense directed at him, an obligation he never requested.

The verbal insults grew unceasing. Physical assaults occurred often. I taught myself to recoil at gestures to choose my words cautiously to appear as tiny and unnoticed as I could.

But it was never enough.

One evening, six weeks into my pregnancy we experienced the intense argument so far.

I can’t even recall what triggered it. Perhaps I had inquired about where he had been. Perhaps I had wondered why he returned home smelling of perfume. Perhaps I had just behaved in a manner that irritated him.

The only thing I recall is his voice, dreadful followed by his hands on me…shoving, clutching, causing pain.

I recall collapsing my body striking the ground with impact to expel the air from my lungs.

I recall the piercing agony that came afterward spreading outward from my stomach.

I recall the blood.

So much blood.

---

The healer arrived late at night with her expression as she checked me over. Killian remained in the corner, arms folded, his face inscrutable.

"I'm sorry " the healer said at last, her tone soft. "The infant is no longer here."

Initially the words seemed incomprehensible. They drifted through the air like smoke, formless and intangible.

Then they fell deep. I broke apart.

A noise escaped me…something wild, a sorrow so deep it seemed as though my very spirit was splitting apart.

The healer attempted to soothe me. I was unable to hear her because of the ringing in my ears.

As she departed my gaze turned to Killian anticipating... An emotion. Regret. Shame. Dread over his actions.

Rather he gave a shrug.

"I told you the majority of pregnancies end in failure " he remarked before exiting the room.

I lay in our bed soaked with my baby's blood and sensed the final fragment of my heart harden into stone.

---

After two days still empty, from sorrow I discovered the letter.

I wasn't actively seeking it. I had just been in Killians study trying to find pain relief since my body was still sore from the miscarriage.

The drawer jammed as I attempted to pull it open. Once I managed to free it, documents fell over the floor.

Within the collection of documents and financial papers there lay a letter penned in handwriting I could identify instantly.

Mia's.

My hands trembled while I opened it, my gaze moving over the words that would shatter the remnants of my world.

*"Last night didn’t suffice. I want you once more. When will she truly leave so we no longer have to conceal ourselves? I’m weary of seeing her pretend to be Luna when we both understand she isn’t suitable for you. Soon, my dear. Soon."*

The sheet slipped from my hands.

Mia.

My closest companion. The lady who had grasped my hand during my mothers funeral. Who had woven my hair before my wedding day. Who had promised she would forever stand by me.

She had been having an affair with my husband.

Maybe for months. Maybe longer.

Maybe even before the wedding.

I collapsed onto the ground, my body curling inward as all I had trusted every certainty I had held onto showed itself to be false.

Both had deceived me. Both had ruined me.

And suddenly, I wasn't sad anymore.

I was furious.

I rose slowly, the letter gripped tightly in my hand. Gazed at my reflection, in the glass. I hardly recognized the woman gazing back, empty-eyed, shattered, beaten.

Beneath the exterior another force was awakening.

Something dark and hungry and absolutely done with being a victim.

This wasn't the end of my story.

The moment had come to begin composing one.

And this time, I would be holding the pen.