7

Scarlett

I stared at the small stick in my trembling hands, my breath caught in my throat. Two lines.

Two pink lines. That’s all it takes to shatter my world for the second time in as many months. I stared at the pregnancy test until my vision blurred, willing the lines to fade, to reveal this as just another cruel joke. But they remained, blunt and undeniable against the white plastic.

My legs gave out, and I slid down the bathroom wall to the cold tile floor. His child. Our child. The thought sent a wave of nausea through me that had nothing to do with morning sickness. My hands instinctively moved to my still-flat stomach, and I was struck by the strange duality of the moment—how something so small could feel so impossibly heavy. There was life inside me. A piece of him, a piece of the one who had discarded me like trash.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered to the empty bathroom. The words echoed off the tiles, coming back to me with no more answers than when they left my lips. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. Of course, this would happen now, when everything is already in pieces. The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of timing.

My mind races to him – my mate, my curse, my everything. How am I supposed to tell him? The thought of seeing those deep blue ocean eyes again makes my chest constrict. Would they soften at the news, or would they hold the same cold distance they did the last time I saw him? I press my palms against my eyes until I see stars, trying to block out the memory of his rejection.

But I couldn’t fight the way my body responded to even the thought of him. Traitor. Even now, after everything, my body still yearned for its mate. Still recognized him as mine, even though he made it crystal clear I was never truly his.

A tear slid down my cheek, followed quickly by another. I didn’t bother wiping them away. “Hey, little one,” I whispered, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I’m sorry you’re getting such a mess for a mother.” My hand rested on my abdomen, and for a moment, I swore I felt something— not a movement; it was far too early for that— but a warmth, a presence.

Fear gripped me suddenly, sharp and cold. What if the child inherited my curse? What if they too were destined to love someone who couldn’t, wouldn’t love them back? The thought was almost unbearable. I pushed myself up from the floor, catching my reflection in the mirror. I looked wild, haunted—hardly mother material.

Maybe this child could be my redemption. Maybe, somehow, this would change things. Maybe the moon goddess hadn’t completely forsaken me.

Hope

What if this child could bring him back to me? What if, when he found out, he would see me differently? What if... this was the chance to reclaim everything I’d lost? But even as I thought it, the cruel reality twisted its way back into my chest, like thorns digging deep into flesh. He had rejected me. He didn’t want me. Why would he want the child? Tears rolled down my face.

This child, this impossible, incredible thing growing inside me—maybe they’re not a punishment. Maybe they’re a gift. A chance at something pure and untainted by all the darkness that came before.

“We’ll figure this out,” I promised, both to my reflection and the life taking root within me. “Somehow.”

Moving to my bedroom, I curled up on my bed, one hand still protectively curved around my middle.

“If you are my redemption,” I whispered to my still-flat stomach, “you’re certainly taking your time about it.” Another laugh escaped me, but this one felt different- light somehow, despite everything.

I closed my eyes, feeling the morning sun warm my face. For the first time since my world fell apart, I felt something like purpose stirring in my chest. This child might have been conceived in chaos, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t love my child. This was my child. My blood. My heart.

My mate may not want me, but this baby is mine. My chance to love something that might actually love me back.

Fear lurked in the corners of my mind. But something else burned brighter now—a fierce, protective love I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. For this child, I would move mountains. For this child, I would rewrite prophecies. For this child, I would become stronger than any curse.

“We’re going to be okay,” I whispered, and for the first time in weeks, I almost believed it. “You and me, little one. We’re going to write our own destiny.”