The pain was excruciating.

Every inch of my body ached, each nerve ending screaming in unison. It felt like my entire being was engulfed in flames. My head pounded relentlessly, my eyes felt scorched, my throat was raw, and each breath was a grating torment.

Blinking through the haze, I moved my eyes cautiously, not daring to shift my throbbing head. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of machines confirmed what my surroundings revealed—I was in a hospital.

An IV drip hung beside me, its contents steadily trickling into my arm through a needle. I could feel something cold wrapped around my neck, a bandage or brace, I didnt know exactly what it was but it made it uncomfortable to swallow.

My eyes floated to the window. Sunlight streamed through, harsh and blinding to my weary eyes. I squinted against the brilliance and looked away.

How long had I been out cold? Where was Tristan? Was he alive? Had he survived?

The door opened at that moment, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. Stefan walked in, looking worn and drawn. "Sienna." His face lit up at the sight of me. "You're awake." He was by my bedside in an instant and his eyes, though exhausted, gleamed with emotion as he touched my face. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a broken croak.

"He smiled sadly. "You hurt your throat pretty badly."

I figured. Despite my agony, I tried to speak again, slowly this time. "Tristan...W-where is he?"

"He's fine."

"But I saw him get shot."

"It was a flesh wound. The bullet missed everything vital. He's gotten stitched up. He's fine, Sienna."

Relief flooded me. "Where is he now? How long...have I been out?"

He sat beside me. "You've been unconscious for a day."

I blinked. A day? It felt like just moments ago I had been fighting for my life... "Where is Tristan? Why isn't he here?" The rising panic in my chest made me try to sit up, but the moment I moved, a searing pain rippled through my stomach, forcing a cry from my lips.

Stefan shot up. "Hey, hey, calm down." He urged quickly. "You can't see him right now okay? he's at the station."

A cold dread washed over me "Alaric..."

"He's dead."

Oh my God.

"Did Tristan..."

Stefan nodded, making my heart sink all the way to my gut.

"Currently, he's still being questioned." He continued. "Luckily he won't be convicted of murder since all evidence points heavily towards self-defense. We have our best lawyers on it."

The weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. "It's all my fault." I choked out. "It's all my fault, Stefan. Tristan might go to jail and it's all my fault."

Stefan reached for my hand. "It's not your fault, Sienna." He squeezed it gently. "You need to calm down, allow yourself rest and heal, you've been through a lot as well." His eyes drifted to my stomach. "There's also something important I think you should know."

"What's that? Is it about Tristan?"

A flash of sadness floated across his face. Just as he parted his lips to speak, the door opened behind him and a doctor stepped in.

"Good to see you're awake, Mrs. Larsen," he said warmly, approaching my bed. "How are you feeling?"

I managed a feeble nod.

Stefan stepped aside and allowed him to do his checks. He examined my head and neck, his touch gentle but efficient. "How's the pain?" He asked as he flashed a light into both my eyes.

I winced and looked away. "Everything hurts."

"As expected." He pulled back. "You sustained significant injuries and lost a considerable amount of blood. Unfortunately, we're limited to the amount of pain medication we can offer you at this time."

"Why?" I asked, confused. "Why can't I receive pain medication?"

He looked down at his chart again and said. "Well, given your situation, it wouldn't be very advisable."

My confusion deepened. "What situation?"

The doctor looked up at me with a raised brow, seemingly surprised I didn't understand. When I remained silent, he turned to Stefan. They exchanged knowing looks.

My brows knitted together. "What's going on? I don't understand, what situation are you talking about?"

The doctor let out a deep sigh. "Well, Mrs. Larsen, you barely survived a fatal miscarriage, giving you more morphine at this stage could increase the risk you having..."

The rest of his words barely registered over the sudden ringing in my ears. "Miscarriage? What are you talking about?" I looked at Stefan, confusion and shock etched on my face. "What's he saying?"

His shoulders drooped. "That's what I wanted to tell you..."

Was this some kind of joke? Because it wasn't funny at all. "You must be mistaken, why would I have a miscarriage? I'm not pregnant." I couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Tristan had a vasectomy. "There has to be a mix-up somewhere."

"I assure you, Mrs. Larsen, there is no mix-up." The doctor said gently. "Your blood test is conclusive. You're indeed pregnant, and based on your quantitative HCG number, you're pretty far gone as well. I advise you to get an ultrasound done as soon as you feel fit for it."

My mind reeled, trying to make sense of his words. How could this be?

Stefan returned to his position beside me. He held my hand. "Sienna, I know it's a lot to take in—"

"No," I interrupted. "You don't understand, I'm not pregnant." I thought back to the symptoms I'd been having before this incident—the nausea, the fatigue, the body aches—they were stress-related symptoms. I had been under a lot of stress. Even my periods were irregular. "I took a pregnancy test a few weeks ago. The result came back negative."

"Sometimes over-the-counter tests can give false negatives." The doctor chirped in calmly. "Stress can also affect the outcome as well."

Stefan squeezed my hand, trying to calm me. "Sienna, the doctor wouldn't say this without being sure."

I pulled my hand away, frustration and fear boiling over. "This isn't possible!"

"I understand your disbelief, Mrs. Larsen, I know this is hard to accept, especially given everything you've been through. But the tests we ran don't lie. You are pregnant and you nearly lost your offspring. We need to focus on ensuring your health and the baby's well-being."

My chest tightened. "No," I whispered, shaking my head vehemently. "This can't be happening. You have to be wrong."

Stefan tried to reach out to me again, but I recoiled. What would Tristan think about this? Pressure built in my head as my mind raced with a thousand thoughts. It felt like the ground was crumbling beneath me, the world spinning out of control.

The doctor closed his chart. "I know it's a lot to process. We'll run more tests if that will help ease your mind. But for now, you need to focus on your recovery. Rest up, I'll see you soon."

The room became silent the moment he walked out.

Stefan remained by my side, silently watching me. I didn't say a word, I didn't know what to say. My mind was racing in circles, trying to grapple with this new shocking reality. The idea of being pregnant felt impossible to grasp, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. But what truly paralyzed me with fear was the thought of how Tristan would react.

He never wanted kids, he'd made it clear to me several times. The horrors of his childhood and the traumas he had endured had left deep scars. He was terrified of repeating the cycle of pain and suffering, convinced that bringing a child into this world would only perpetuate his own misery. I understood his fear of failing as a father and went along with his decision despite my own quiet dreams of motherhood.

But now that I was faced with the impossible reality of my pregnancy, I couldn't help but tremble. This news would devastate him. It would potentially shatter the fragile peace we had fought so hard to maintain. I didn't want that.

I turned to Stefan. "Please don't tell Tristan. You can't let him know about the baby."

Stefan's brows furrowed in concern. "Why?"

It would break him. "He can't. Not now."

"He needs to know, Sienna. This isn't something we should keep from him."

"Please," I pleaded. "Just for now. I need time to figure things out."

"Figure what out? Is he not the father?"

"He is."

I had no doubt in mind about that. I hadn't slept with anyone else. The last person I had been romanticly involved with before Tristan, was Jackson and if that was the case, I would already have my baby in my arms.

Stefan frowned. "Then what's the issue? Why can't you tell him?"

"You won't understand."

"Make me understand."

"Tristan doesn't want to have children. He is against the idea of it."

"Well, shit's already hit the fan so he's gonna have to learn to accept it."

I shook my head. "No, Stefan, it's not that easy." I grabbed his arm, shaking him. "Please, I'm begging you, don't tell him."

He looked conflicted, torn between his loyalty to Tristan and the raw desperation in my eyes. "Sienna if he finds out I kept him in the dark..."

"It'll only be for a short while I promise."

The weight of the decision I was asking him to make was a heavy one. He looked away, struggling with the moral dilemma. "I don't know..."

"Please Stefan, he's barely holding on as it is." I pleaded, my helplessness and confusion converting into the tears that now burned my eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't cry okay." He chid. "You're gonna make me all mushy inside."

I couldn't help it. The reality of the situation was overwhelming. "He's in the middle of a murder investigation. If he finds out about this now, it could push him over the edge. Please, Stefan. Just until things settle down. Let us get through this first."

"Fuck." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. I won't tell him."

Relief washed over me, mingling with the guilt of having to keep this a secret. "Thank you, Stefan."

He got up. "I'll inform the doctor to keep it confidential. But you need to tell him soon. This isn't something you can hide forever."

I nodded. "I will."

***

Everything right after that happened in a blur.

The cops arrived to take my statement, followed closely by the doctor who began reading out the list of my injuries to them. I hadn't realized the extent of the damage I had suffered until I heard him recite them—the bruises, the cuts, the fractures. Hearing it all laid out so clinically made it more real, more horrifying. But, thankfully, he left out the part about my pregnancy, and for that, I was profoundly grateful.

The police questions kept coming, each one making my head spin. The room felt smaller and smaller as I tried to keep up with their inquiries. At one point, Stefan stepped in, offering for the officers to come back later when I was feeling better but I refused, shaking my head. If this would help them get off Tristan quickly then I didn't mind the discomfort.

Appreciative of my choice, the officers continued their process. I pushed through the dizziness and answered as best as I could, my thoughts always circling back to Tristan. I had to get this over with for him.

Soon after, my hospital room transformed into a makeshift celebration. Balloons adorned the corners, and a pile of get-well-soon cards covered the bedside table. Amidst the colorful chaos, Candice burst in with her usual flair, teasing me about my predicament.

"Damn girl, you've got more drama in your life than a freaking soap opera, I'm jealous."

I laughed.

Talking to her helped lift some of the heaviness from my heart. It felt good to laugh, to find some semblance of normalcy amidst the confusion.

Not long after, Keith and Giuseppe also visited, bringing along a basket of my favorite treats.

I was cared for and surrounded by love. I should've been happy but deep down, despite the warmth and the well-wishes, the only person I truly wanted to see was Tristan.

The ache in my heart was a constant reminder of his absence. I needed him here, by my side, more than anything.

As the day wore on, the room slowly emptied, leaving me with my thoughts. It was evening now, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I stared at it, the thoughts of Tristan weighing heavily on my mind. How was he? Was he doing okay? The man I love had killed for me. I couldn't imagine what he was going through.

Stefan walked in with a tray of food. "Dinner." He announced softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "Personally made for you."

"Have you heard from Tristan yet?" I asked, turning to face him.

He pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Nothing yet. They aren't letting him take any calls. It's pretty intense."

My chest ached. "Are they going to keep him there overnight?"

"I'll take care of Tristan, worry about yourself." He urged, picking up the fork and nudging the plate closer to me. "You need to eat."

The meal looked mouth-watering but my appetite was nonexistent. "Did they let him eat? How's his wound?"

"Sienna, eat."

"Do you think he'll—"

"Sienna."

My shoulders dropped. "I miss him, Stefan."

I missed him so much it hurt. It was so cold in here. I desperately wanted to feel his warmth. I missed the smell of his cologne, I missed the sound of his voice.

"You'll see him soon okay? I'm sure he wouldn't want to come back and meet you looking as pale as a ghost so eat and regain that color."

I grabbed the fork. "I just..." My voice trailed off as I struggled to find the words. The weight of everything—the assault, the revelation of my pregnancy, Tristan's absence—pressed down on me, making even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming.

Stefan reached out, his hand resting on mine. "Hey, it's okay," he crooned. "Calm down, everything will be fine."

Tears welled up in my eyes at his relentless overwhelming support. "Thank you, Stefan," I whispered hoarsely, my voice thick with emotion. "I appreciate everything you've done for me."

He squeezed my hand gently, offering a reassuring smile. "I'll go make a call to try and get some information," he said softly, rising from his chair. "But promise me you'll try to eat something."

I nodded weakly and watched him leave. As the door closed behind him, I turned my gaze to the untouched food on the tray. I had to try. I picked up my fork and forced myself to eat.

***

Nighttime came fast with still no news of Tristan.

Alone, I stared at the ceiling, exhaustion tugging at my eyelids, yet sleep felt impossible. Every thought circled back to Tristan. I longed to see him, to hold him, to reassure myself that he was okay. The endless waiting gnawed at me, each passing minute intensifying my anxiety.

Frustration mounting, I decided I needed a change of scenery, even if only for a few moments. Gingerly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My body protested with every step, but I pushed through the pain and shuffled slowly toward the bathroom.

The harsh fluorescent light flickered on as I entered, casting a stark reflection of my haggard appearance in the mirror. Stefan was right. I was as pale as a ghost. My eyes were red-rimmed and my face was swollen from crying. I didn't even want to talk about how bad my skin looked.

My eyes lowered to the reflection of my stomach. Hesitantly, I touched it, feeling a strange mix of disbelief and awe. I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I had a tiny fragile life growing inside me. The thought was too overwhelming, too confusing. I pushed it aside immediately. I wouldn't dwell on it for now.

Turning on the faucet, I washed my face. The cold water instantly soothed me. After a few more splashes, I turned the faucet off and made my way back to the room with painstaking slowness.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard the door open.

"Stefan, can I please get—"

The rest of the words died in my throat when I turned.

It wasn't Stefan.

Standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and battered but very much alive, was Tristan.

For several seconds, we just stared at one another, suspended in time.

"Sienna..." His eyes drank me in, dilating in horror as he realized just how much damage was done. "Oh God, Sienna." The flower bouquet he was holding suddenly dropped to the floor as he crossed the room in a few quick strides and enveloped me in a tight hug.

My body screamed back at me. It hurt like hell but I didn't care about the pain. I threw my arms around him, clinging to him as if he might disappear at any moment. "You came." I choked out, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

He clung to me, shuddering. "It's my fault," he whispered, his voice thick and choked with emotion. "I let this happen."

I pulled back slightly and looked up at his face, taking in every detail. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and stubble shadowing his jaw. Seeing him so broken, so drained, knowing he had gone through his own hell, was almost too much to bear. Tears blurred my vision. "It's okay, Tristan. You're here now, that's all that matters."

He shook his head. "No, it's not. He did this to you, Sienna. You're hurt because of me. I should have been there. I failed, I couldn't protect you."

I could feel the depth of his pain and guilt in every choked word that fell from his lips. It made my own heart break all over again. "Listen to me," I cupped his face with my hands. "It's not your fault."

He closed his eyes at my touch, leaning into my palms like he was starved for it.

"I'm here," I said softly, stroking his cheek. "I'm right here because you saved me. You saved me, Tristan."

He opened his eyes, looking at me with such raw vulnerability. "When they told me what happened... I thought... I thought I'd lost you forever. The thought of not seeing you again, the idea that I would have to live another day without you—I couldn't breathe, I almost died."

A weary smile tugged the corner of my lips. "You didn't lose me. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He pulled me close again. His warmth, his scent, the familiar feel of his embrace—it was everything I needed. "I love you, Sienna." He murmured against my hair. "More than life itself, so don't you ever think of leaving me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I whispered against his chest. "I love you too much."

The room went completely still as we stood there, holding on to each other as if letting go would mean losing everything.