Urban Romance

When I woke again, the sharp scent of disinfectant made me cough.

The white ceiling swam dizzyingly. I moved my fingers, feeling the IV needle taped to my hand, the cool fluid getting into my veins.

"Awake?" Gavin's voice was close, thick with exhaustion. "How do you feel?"

I turned my head. He was slumped beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes like bruises, stubble shadowing his jaw. He still wore the same down jacket from that day, now smudged with dust, looking utterly wrecked.

"The baby..." I rasped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Gavin's eyes dimmed. He reached out, brushing my forehead with a touch so gentle it felt fragile. "The doctor said... the baby didn't make it."

My mind exploded. Blank. Empty.

The place where my child had been felt hollowed out, a gaping wound letting in icy drafts.

"Delia..." Gavin tried to find words of comfort, but his voice faltered.



"GET OUT!" I screamed with every ounce of strength left, my voice cracking with rage and revulsion.

The heart monitor screamed again, its line jagged, mirroring the turmoil inside me.

I despised Liza, but I never wanted her kidney.

My adoptive mother jumped back, startled by my reaction, then quickly plastered on that fake concern again. "Delia, I'm thinking of you! Liza is young, losing a kidney won't affect her much! But for you, it's life or death!"

I trembled with fury. The IV needle tore loose as I thrashed, a bruise instantly blooming on my hand. "Why don't you donate? She's your own flesh and blood! You'd trade her organ for status? You're not human!"

"I have no choice!" she shrieked, stung to the core. "The mess she made, why should the whole family suffer? Trading a kidney is better than jail! Besides, you need it! Helping each other out, what's wrong with that?"

Looking a

"An apology? Is that all?" Gavin looked at them, his gaze icy. "You falsely accused Delia and tried to assault her. This doesn't end here."

"What do you want?" My adoptive mother eyed him warily.

"First, you apologize to Delia sincerely and promise never to harass her again." Gavin stated. "Second, if there are any problems with Liza's pregnancy, it has absolutely nothing to do with Delia. You will not use it as an excuse to bother her."

"Why should we listen to you?" my adoptive father blustered.

"Because of what's on that camera. If you don't want the whole world to know what kind of person Liza is, you'll do as I say."

My adoptive parents exchanged a look. Finally, they capitulated.

They offered a grudging apology, then hurriedly hustled Liza out.

Watching their retreating backs, I let out a long breath. My legs felt weak, and I nearly collapsed.

Gavin caught me swiftly, the warmth of his palm seeping through my thin sweater, radiating a solid reassurance.

"It's alright, Delia," his voice was low, like warm water. "I'll help you to bed. You should rest."

I nodded, leaning heavily on him as he half-carried, half-supported me into the bedroom.

The room was small, an old wooden bed taking up most of the space. Stacks of parenting books I'd saved for months crowded a corner, their pages worn.

Gavin tucked the blanket around me and placed a glass of water on the nightstand. "I'll clean up the living room. You rest."

As he turned to leave, I suddenly grabbed the hem of his jacket.

My fingertips brushed the thick, warm fabric of his down coat. "Don't go."

My voice was hoarse, carrying an unconscious dependence. "Stay with me for a bit."

Gavin paused, then sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking my cold hand.

His palm was warm, slowly warming my fingers, just like when we were kids at the orphanage, when he'd tuck my hands into his coat pockets. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, his gaze settling on my slightly heaving chest.

The dull ache hadn't fully subsided, but what hurt more was the vivid memory of Liza's expertly faked fall.

I shook my head, then nodded, tears suddenly welling up. "Am I useless? I can't even protect myself... I drag you into this mess too."

"Don't talk nonsense." He frowned, his thumb gently wiping away a tear at the corner of my eye. "You were never a burden. Back at the orphanage, you always shared your bread with stray cats, eating dry cereal yourself." He smiled faintly, a soft light in his eyes. "Delia, you've always been brave."

I looked at him, my throat tight. He remembered all those small, forgotten moments.

The orphanage winters were always bitterly cold. We'd huddle together on a narrow cot under a patched quilt.

"Gavin," I called out as he stood, "the camera... did it really catch everything?"

He turned back, a flicker of cunning in his eyes. "There is no camera. But with people like that, you need leverage."

I stared, then burst out laughing.

One afternoon, I was knitting tiny socks for the baby when I heard pounding on the door.

I opened the door cautiously, seeing my adoptive mother standing there, her face contorted with rage.

"What do you want?" I instinctively stepped back, gripping the door handle.

"Delia, how dare you ask me that?" She stormed into the living room, her gaze like a knife scraping over my belly. "Liza miscarried! You happy now?"

I remembered Liza had been infatuated with a married man, someone very wealthy.

She must have hoped the baby would secure her position.

No wonder Mother was hysterical – afraid of losing that golden ticket.

"Get out! I don't want to see you!"

"Out? Not that easy!" She grabbed my arm, her nails digging deep, almost breaking the skin. "I'll make sure everyone knows you're a slut carrying a bastard and causing a miscarriage!"

I could no longer hold myself up. My legs gave way, and I started to slide down.

I looked down. Blood was indeed seeping through my sweater, blooming like a sinister flower.

The pain in my body intensified violently. Black spots swam before my eyes.

Gavin's shouts sounded distant, muffled, as if through thick glass.

I could feel him gathering me tightly into his arms, his grip almost crushing my bones. But I was beyond crying out.

The deep ache in my lower back intertwined with the violent cramping in my belly, like two vipers coiling, slowly devouring my consciousness.

"Delia! Hold on! I'm taking you to the hospital!"

His voice trembled. I could feel him staggering slightly as he rushed towards the door with me.

The stale, damp smell of the stairwell mixed with the biting cold of the snowy air hit my face. Pressed against his chest, listening to his frantic heartbeat, I felt a sense of peace.

If I just let go now, slipped away... maybe it wouldn't be so bad. At least, I wouldn't have to face those vile people or their poisonous words anymore.

"Don't!" Gavin seemed to sense my surrender. He pinched my cheek hard. "Delia, look at me! Think of your baby! Didn't you say you'd protect him?"

The baby...

My eyes snapped open. I summoned the last shred of my strength, clutching his jacket.

Yes. I couldn't sleep. I had my baby.

This little life was my anchor, the reason I'd gritted my teeth and survived the kidnappers' den. I couldn't give up now.

The wail of an ambulance siren pierced the air. As I was lifted onto the stretcher, I saw Gavin, eyes rimmed red, gripping my hand fiercely. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Just before consciousness completely faded, I seemed to be back in that kidnappers' warehouse.

The dank air thick with rust. A kidnapper, holding a blood-stained whip, sneering, "Guess your folks really don't want you, huh?"

Back then, I'd hugged my knees, telling myself over and over: I can’t die. Not now.

But I’d forgotten living was a hell harder than death.



When I woke again, the sharp scent of disinfectant made me cough.

The white ceiling swam dizzyingly. I moved my fingers, feeling the IV needle taped to my hand, the cool fluid getting into my veins.

"Awake?" Gavin's voice was close, thick with exhaustion. "How do you feel?"

I turned my head. He was slumped beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes like bruises, stubble shadowing his jaw. He still wore the same down jacket from that day, now smudged with dust, looking utterly wrecked.

"The baby..." I rasped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Gavin's eyes dimmed. He reached out, brushing my forehead with a touch so gentle it felt fragile. "The doctor said... the baby didn't make it."

My mind exploded. Blank. Empty.

The place where my child had been felt hollowed out, a gaping wound letting in icy drafts.

"Delia..." Gavin tried to find words of comfort, but his voice faltered.

The physical pain surged back with terrifying force. It felt like an invisible hand seized my kidney

Chapter 5