Nyla grew more tired, more anxious, more quiet.
Then one night, the cramps started.
Nyla woke up sweating, clutching her stomach, whispering, “No, no, no.”
Terrence groaned like she’d woken him for no reason.
“What now?” he snapped.
“I’m hurting,” she begged. “Please. I need the hospital.”
At the hospital, the nurse at the desk—Nurse Patrice Holden, a firm woman with kind eyes—took one look at Nyla and rushed her back.
But kindness couldn’t change what was already happening.
The doctor’s face said it before his mouth did.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve miscarried again.”
Nyla broke—but not loudly, not with screaming. Just a silent collapse, like her spirit slid off a cliff.
Terrence’s reaction was quick. Too quick.
He didn’t hold her. He didn’t ask if she was okay.
He muttered, “Unbelievable.”
When they got home, Ivonne arrived like she had been waiting by the window.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
Nyla’s lips trembled. “I didn’t do anything.”
Darnell’s voice came through the doorway, full of contempt.
“Told you,” he said. “She eating wrong. She too big for a baby to sit in.”
Terrence stared at Nyla like she had disappointed him on purpose.
Then he delivered the threat that changed everything.
“I’m not doing this forever,” he said. “If you can’t give me a child, I’ll find somebody who can.”
Nyla’s heart slammed.
Because now she finally understood the truth.
This wasn’t grief anymore.
