"Daphne, I will swear on my life, I did not lift a finger to harm our child," Atticus said, immediately kneeling to his feet so that he could reach for her hand. Daphne flinched away from him, huddling closer to the blankets, leaving his hands lonely. Yet, he still kept them there as he continued to speak.
"I wanted nothing more than our first child to be safely delivered into this world. But then I got the horrific news that you lost the baby while I was out with Jonah and King Calarian in the iron meteorite mines."
Daphne's fingers twisted themselves in the blankets so tightly they almost turned white from the lack of blood flowing through them. This was it; she was finally going to get Atticus's version of the truth.
"By the time I came back, it was too late― our child was long gone, and you had lost consciousness. We weren't even sure if you would live," Atticus confessed after a long breath, recalling the terror he had felt when Daphne refused to stir.
