When Diara opened her eyes, the cold, sterile lights of the hospital ceiling greeted her. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air, and for a moment, she could hear nothing but the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor next to her bed.
Her body felt heavy, her mind clouded by exhaustion and grief. As her eyes fluttered open, reality slowly seeped in, and with it, the crushing weight of what had happened.
She was alone. Again.
It had been the second time in this hellish nightmare that she had woken up in a hospital, her body bruised, her spirit broken. She was here yet again, something she held dear to her was taken from her yet again.
Diara didn't need a doctor to tell her what had happened. She knew, instinctively, in the hollow ache deep within her, that she had lost the baby. The life that had flickered inside her, the one thing she had dared to hope for, was gone.
