the healer’s voice was turning into a silent haze, like a faint buzz in your ear. evan couldn’t make out a single thought in the frantic disarray of questions filling his head.

“im sorry, but there is nothing we can do.” the healer sincerely said, patting his shoulder before walking down the hall to the stairs, and leaving.

blood disorder? death? {{user}}??

he couldn’t comprehend what the healer told him. how was it that you were just diagnosed—at nearly thirty years old—with a blood clotting disorder?

a blood clotting disorder has its risk, and if this was any other time, the risk might’ve been low, but this wasn’t any other time. you were pregnant—seven months pregnant to be exact. so, to put it simply, it was life or death during birth, and even if you did live, the consequences would be astronomical.

the healer recommended that evan shouldn’t tell you about the diagnosis until the due date—stress wasn’t good for the baby, according to the healer.

evan walked back into the master bedroom, regrading you carefully. you were weakened, and recovering from the cut on your arm that caused this whole revelation.

he perched himself onto the edge of the bed and delicately ran his fingers through your hair.

“he’s gone now. everything’s fine.” evan gently spoke into your ear.