The Natural Way
1471 Words
The medical wing felt colder than the night outside.
Not just in temperature.
In purpose. The lights were too bright, bleaching everything into something lifeless. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, biting at Seraphina’s nose with every breath. It didn’t feel like part of a home.
It felt like a place where people stopped being people.
She sat on the edge of the examination table, her back straight, her fingers curled loosely in her lap. The blood on her palm had dried into a dark, tight crust, stretching faintly every time she moved. No one had offered to clean it.
The door slid open.
Elias walked in.
The shift in the room was immediate. Not louder, not heavier. Just… sharper.
“Check her,” Elias said.
He didn’t come closer. He stopped near the wall, folding his arms as if observing something routine.
But he didn’t look as untouchable as he had in the ballroom.
Up close, the cracks showed.
His skin carried a faint grayness beneath its tone. A sheen of sweat sat at his temple, subtle but there. His jaw tightened once, then stilled.
The illness wasn’t waiting.
It was moving.
“Lay back, Miss Thorne,” the doctor said, stepping forward. “We need to assess your readiness for the cycle.”
Seraphina didn’t move.
“Here?” she asked quietly. “With him watching?”
Elias’s gaze snapped to her.
“You signed the contract.”
His voice stayed low, but something dangerous edged it.
“You don’t get to choose when you feel modest.”
“That’s not what this is”
“You lost the right to decide what this is,” he cut in. “Ten years ago, you didn’t seem concerned about propriety either. Not in the garden.”
The memory hit like a bruise.
Warm air. Quiet laughter. His hand brushes hers as it matters.
Her throat closed.
The table was cold beneath her.
The ceiling lights blurred into white.
Gloves snapped into place.
The doctor’s hands were precise. Detached. A series of movements that reduced her to numbers and reactions.
A tilt of her chin.
A press against her abdomen.
Seraphina stared upward, focusing on the harsh light so she wouldn’t feel anything else.
“Vitals are stable,” the doctor said after a moment. “Physically, she’s in optimal condition.”
“But.”
Elias straightened slightly. “What?”
The doctor removed his gloves, his expression tightening just enough to matter.
“Your blood count dropped again this morning,” he said.
“At this rate, the artificial process won’t work in time,” the doctor continued. “Preparation alone would take weeks.”
“There is a faster method.”
Seraphina turned her head slightly.
“The natural way,” the doctor said.
The words settled heavily in the air.
“The body is more during… intimacy. Hormonal alignment increases the likelihood of immediate conception. If you want a viable donor within the timeframe, it must happen tonight.”
Seraphina’s breath caught.
“No,” she said under her breath. “There has to be another”
“Leave us.”
Elias didn’t raise his voice.
The doctor hesitated only a second before nodding. “I’ll prepare the next stage.”
Seraphina pushed herself upright. “Elias, you can’t just decide”
The door opened again.
Clara walked in.
The rhythm of her heels echoed through the room, each step deliberate, controlled. She didn’t hurry. She didn’t hesitate.
She looked like she belonged everywhere Seraphina no longer did.
She stopped beside the table and looked down with amusement.
“Well,” Clara said lips curving. “This is disappointing.”
She reached out, gripping Seraphina’s chin, turning her face slightly.
“Look at you,” she murmured. “Laid out like something waiting to be dissected.”
“Clara,” Elias said.
Clara ignored it.
“Did the doctor explain things?” she asked, her voice dropping to feel private.
Seraphina said nothing.
Clara smiled anyway.
“Think of it this way,” she added. “You finally get to matter again.”
Her gaze flicked to Seraphina’s hand.
“Oh,” she said, “You’re bleeding.”
She didn’t move to help.
Instead, she straightened, smoothing her dress as if brushing off dust.
“I made a few changes,” Clara continued casually. “Your living arrangements felt… too comfortable.”
Seraphina’s chest tightened.
“I had your things moved,” Clara went on. “Basement storage. It’s damp. A little dark. But I think it suits you.”
“Don’t you?”
Seraphina didn’t answer.
Her eyes moved to Elias.
He didn’t look at her.
“Fine,” he said.
Clara smiled, satisfied.
She leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.
“Enjoy your evening,” she murmured. “Try not to get sentimental.”
Her gaze slid back to Seraphina.
“And don’t forget your place.”
Elias pushed off the wall.
He walked toward her.
Seraphina’s breath shortened. “Elias”
His hand came up, closing around her throat, not tight enough to hurt But firm enough to hold.
To make sure she didn’t look away.
“Don’t say my name like that,” he said quietly.
Her pulse jumped under his fingers.
“We don’t have time,” he continued. “You heard what he said.”
Her voice trembled despite her effort. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“We agreed you would give me a child.”
“This is how that happens.”
Her chest rose sharply.
“Please”
“Don’t.”
The word came out rougher than before.
His eyes darkened.
“Don’t stand here and pretend you’re above this.”
His hand dropped.
“Take it off.”
The command settled between them.
Seraphina’s fingers didn’t move at first.
Then slowly… they did.
One button.
Then another.
Her hands shook.
Her breath caught halfway through.
Elias stepped closer.
Too close.
“Too slow,” he muttered.
The fabric gave under his grip.
Before she could react, he lifted her.
The sudden motion pulled a sharp breath from her lips.
“Elias”
He didn’t answer.
He carried her out.
The bedroom door opened.
Moonlight stretched across the room, pale and quiet.
He set her down on the bed.
For a moment, neither spoke.
“This isn’t love,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered.
“This is survival.”
He leaned down.
And when his lips met hers
The lie didn’t hold.
It was everything they had buried, breaking through at once.
Her hands found him without thinking, gripping his shoulders.
He stilled for half a breath.
Then he kissed her back.
Harder.
Like memory had teeth.
“Seraphina…”
Her name slipped out, low and unguarded.
It broke something in her.
She hated it.
Hated how easily her body remembered his.
The world narrowed.
No debt.
No contract.
No Clara.
Just heat. Breath. the quiet, dangerous pull between them.
His touch shifted.
Less force.
More… care.
Like he was remembering something he tried to forget.
She turned into him, her fingers tightening.
For a moment, it felt like before.
Then it was gone.
Morning came without warning.
Light cut across the room, gold and unforgiving.
Seraphina stirred slowly, her body heavy, her mind quiet in a way that didn’t last.
Her hand reached out.
Her eyes opened.
Elias stood by the window, fully dressed, already distant.
“Get up,” he said.
No warmth, no pause.
“The doctor is waiting.”
She pushed herself upright, clutching the sheet close. “Elias…”
He adjusted his cuff.
“Last night…” she started.
He didn’t let her finish.
“It was necessary.”
“You weren’t like this,” she said quietly.
His gaze lifted to hers.
“You imagined something that doesn’t exist.”
He picked up a small bottle and tossed it onto the bed.
“Take those,” he said.
She stared at it.
“If anything goes wrong,” he continued, his voice lowering just slightly, “your father goes to prison.”
“That’s not fair”
“Fair?” He gave a short, humorless look. “You’re still thinking about that?”
He turned toward the door.
Then paused.
“And Seraphina?”
She didn’t answer.
“Dress quickly.”
A slight glance over his shoulder.
“Clara is coming for breakfast.”
“I don’t want her smelling you on me.”
The door closed behind him.
Seraphina sat there, the sheet slipping slightly in her grip, the room too large, too quiet.
Her fingers curled into the fabric.
Her voice didn’t rise.
It barely existed.
But it was there.
“Welcome to your nightmare, Seraphina.”
- Writer
