I was not having a miscarriage. My baby was fine.
I chanted this to myself as I struggled to get off the floor. My baby was fine.
Daphne helped me up and whispered into my ears, “You have to tell them.”
No, my baby was fine. If I believed it long enough, it would be true.
Daphne's clutch on my arm grew tighter. “Ma'am. You have to tell somebody. You can't let her get away with this.”
Her words made me realize that I couldn’t escape reality, that I couldn't fool myself any longer. My baby was gone. And Ianthe was the cause.
“You have to tell him,” Daphne whispered again, urgency in her voice, fear in her eyes.
“I — I can't. Oh, goddess, I can't. He'll kill me. He'll think I lied.”
“Look —”
I cut her off, desperation clawing at me. “We don't know if it's a miscarriage, right? We do
