The doctor, sensing the depth of Weston’s concern for Stella, chose her words carefully. “Mr. Ford, we haven’t yet discovered the source of her pain, but what she’s doing right now could cause further harm…”
Weston’s gaze hardened, and he fought to suppress his growing panic. “What do you need to do? Just make sure she gets better,” he stated with cold urgency, turning away from the sight of Stella trembling in pain. His composure was slipping, but he steeled himself, not wanting to appear vulnerable.
The doctor exchanged a quick glance with her colleagues before they moved towards Stella. “Mr. Ford, we must act quickly or her condition will deteriorate.”
Stella’s eyes were wide, her body convulsing with pain. As they approached, she could sense what was about to happen. Her fear intensified, and her voice cracked with desperation. “Nooo… My baby…”
Her words, filled with anguish, were almost a whisper, as though she were trapped in the past, reliving the heartbreak of losing her child. The pain had overwhelmed her to the point where she was no longer fully aware of the present. To her, it felt like the loss was happening again, and she fought desperately against the doctors who were trying to help her.
Her limbs flailed weakly, her body fighting against the inevitable, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The doctors tried to restrain her gently, but Stella’s fear was raw and uncontrollable.
“No!” she cried out again, her voice thick with terror. “Don’t… Please, don’t…”
Weston stood frozen for a moment, the anguish in her voice cutting through him like a blade. He reached out instinctively, his voice soft yet firm. “Stella, please, trust them. They’re trying to help.”
But Stella didn’t hear him. She was lost in her panic, her vision clouded by the horrors of her past. She fought with everything she had, refusing to let them inject the needle into her arm. To her, it felt as if the needle would be the final farewell to everything she had once hoped for—the child she would never have.
Weston’s heart twisted as he watched her struggle, his protective instincts taking over. He stepped closer, but before he could reach her, the needle was already being carefully pushed into her arm. The sight of it—so final, so irrevocable—made his chest tighten with guilt and helplessness.
Stella’s eyes locked onto the needle, and her body tensed as if she could will it away. “Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as tears welled up. “Not again…”
Weston’s heart shattered at the sight. He wished more than anything that he could take her pain away, that he could undo the damage that had been done. But all he could do now was watch as the doctors worked, his hands clenched into fists, his mind filled with a thousand unanswered questions.
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