I Nearly Died Pregnant When He Hung around with His First Love

The darkness lifted slowly, like a heavy curtain being drawn back inch by inch. The first thing I noticed was the steady beeping of machines—a rhythmic sound that seemed to echo the fragile beating of my own heart. My eyelids felt weighted down, but I forced them open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights of what was unmistakably a hospital room.

Panic shot through me like lightning. My hands flew to my belly, expecting to find it flat, empty—expecting the worst.

But there it was. Still rounded, still warm. Still alive.

Tears of relief streamed down my face as I felt a gentle flutter inside—my baby, my precious child, moving as if to reassure me that we had both survived whatever hell we'd been through.

"Easy there," a calm voice said from beside my bed. A middle-aged doctor with kind eyes and graying temples was checking my chart. "You're awake. Good. I'm Dr. Martinez."

"My baby—" I started, my voice hoarse and cracked.

"Is fine," he said quickly, and I could have kissed him for putting me out of my misery so swiftly. "Heartbeat is strong, movement is normal. You're both incredibly lucky."

I closed my eyes, letting the relief wash over me in waves. We were alive. Both of us. Against all odds, after that terrible fall, after the blood and the pain and the contractions—we were alive.

"However," Dr. Martinez continued, his tone growing more serious, "I need to be very clear about your situation, Mrs. Mills. The trauma from your fall has put you into what we classify as a high-risk pregnancy. The placenta was partially detached, and while we've managed to stabilize it, any further stress or physical trauma could be catastrophic."

I nodded, hanging on his every word.

"Complete bed rest," he said firmly. "And I mean complete. No stairs, no lifting anything heavier than a coffee cup, minimal walking. Your body needs time to heal, and your baby needs you to stay as still as possible for the remainder of this pregnancy."

"I'll do anything," I whispered, my hand protectively covering my belly. "Anything to keep my baby safe."

Dr. Martinez smiled at that, the first genuine warmth I'd seen from anyone in what felt like forever. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. With proper care and rest, there's every reason to believe you'll carry to term and deliver a healthy baby."

After he left, I lay there in the quiet hospital room, finally allowing myself to process what had happened. The emergency sirens, the orphanage, little Marcus falling through that rotted railing—and Joshua's cruel dismissal when I'd begged for help.

The memory of his words hit me like a physical blow all over again. *Find someone else to coddle your dramatics.*

Someone else had found me. Someone else had saved us.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my dark thoughts. Beta Leo Carter stepped into the room, his usually confident demeanor subdued. He was a good man—loyal, honorable, everything an Alpha's right hand should be. His presence filled me with hope for the first time since I'd awakened.

"Luna Vanessa," he said softly, approaching my bed with careful steps. "How are you feeling?"

"Grateful," I said honestly. "Dr. Martinez told me someone found me and brought me here. Was it you?"

Leo nodded, but something in his expression made my stomach clench. "Little Marcus—the boy you saved—he came running out of the orphanage screaming for help. Smart kid. Brave too, considering how terrified he was."

"Is he okay?" I asked, needing to know.

"Not a scratch on him, thanks to you." Leo's voice was warm with genuine admiration. "What you did was incredibly brave, Luna. Incredibly selfless."

I waited for him to say more, to mention Joshua, to explain why my mate wasn't here beside my hospital bed where he belonged. But Leo just stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, avoiding my eyes.

"Leo," I said carefully, "where is Alpha Joshua?"

The Beta's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "He's... handling the aftermath of the security alert. Making sure the pack is safe."

It was a diplomatic answer—the kind of careful non-answer that high-ranking wolves gave when they were trying to protect someone's feelings. But I was past the point of needing protection from the truth.

"The alert was a false alarm, wasn't it?" I asked quietly.

Leo's silence was answer enough.

"So there was never any real danger. No emergency that required the Alpha's immediate attention." My voice was getting steadier, colder. "Which means he chose not to come when I was fighting for our child's life."

"Luna—"

"Don't." I held up a hand to stop whatever excuse he was about to make. "Just... don't."

Leo looked miserable, torn between his loyalty to his Alpha and what was clearly his own moral compass. "He'll come," he said finally, but the words sounded hollow even to him. "Eventually, he'll come."

Eventually. Not immediately. Not as soon as he heard. Eventually.

After Leo left with promises to check on me again soon, I lay alone in the sterile hospital room, staring at the ceiling tiles and trying to process the depth of Joshua's betrayal. But there was one more thing I had to do—one final test of whatever remained between us.

I reached out tentatively through our mate bond, the psychic connection that should have been sacred between us. In the past, even when we were fighting, Joshua had always answered my calls through the bond. Always.

*Joshua?* I called softly through the mental link.

Nothing.

*Joshua, please. I just want to talk.*

Silence. But not the silence of someone who wasn't there—the deliberate silence of someone who was actively ignoring me.

*I nearly lost our baby today,* I tried one more time, putting all my pain and desperation into the words.

The response was swift and brutal. The mate bond slammed shut so hard it felt like a door being slammed in my face. But worse than that—he blocked me. Actually blocked me from accessing the connection that was supposed to be unbreakable between mates.

I lay there in the hospital bed, my hand on my belly where our child grew, and felt something inside me die. Not my body—that was healing. Not my baby—who was safe and strong. But something else. Something that had been holding on despite everything, hoping against hope that somewhere deep down, Joshua still cared.

That hope was gone now, extinguished as completely as if he'd snuffed out a candle.

I wasn't going to lie to myself anymore. I wasn't going to make excuses for him or convince myself that he might change, that he might remember how to love me.

The man who had once promised to cherish and protect me had just blocked our sacred bond rather than face the consequences of his cruelty.

The mate bond, just like our love, was supposed to be forever. Unbreakable. Sacred.

But he had changed. Betrayed. Given me up. Turning to someone else. Forgetting his own promises.

Then, maybe it is time… For me to let go—of the bond, of him, and of every foolish hope that had ever tied my heart to his.