ANNA’S POV
When I woke up, I was vaguely aware of the coolness of the sheets against my skin and the soft murmur of voices around me.
My head felt heavy, like I’d been swimming through a sea of fog. I blinked several times, trying to clear the haze from my mind.
The first thing I noticed was my dad’s hand, warm and solid, holding mine.
“Dad?” My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, as I turned my head toward him.
His tired eyes met mine, and I could see the worry written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough but gentle. “You passed out, Anna. I had to bring you back to the hospital.”
I didn’t say anything at first. I wasn’t sure how to respond, how to let him know what had been tearing me apart, or if I even wanted to.
I just stared at him, blinking as I tried to find my bearings in this new, familiar pain.
The sterile smell of the hospital room I have become familiar with, over the months surrounded me, and the soft beeping of the machines beside me almost deafening in its regularity.
I've been in and out of hospital these past few days. It was just as if my body was not ready to heal from both the physical and emotional pain.
I noticed the TV blaring in the corner of the room. The volume was cranked up high, and the sound cut through the haze in my brain.
I frowned and turned my gaze toward the screen, squinting against the brightness.
My heart stopped for a moment when I saw Damien’s face.
The screen flashed with a headline: Damien Domingo Under Investigation for Mafia Ties and Corporate Scandal.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at the screen, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
The world around me seemed to fall away, leaving only the image of Damien, looking as cold and distant as ever.
I hadn’t had the courage to tell my dad about Damien, about what had happened between us. I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words, not with the way everything had ended, not with how everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
I had spent the last few weeks, maybe even months, living with a broken heart, and now seeing him on that screen, in the middle of a scandal, it twisted something deep inside me.
I didn’t realize I had been staring at the TV for too long until my dad squeezed my hand.
“Anna, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
I turned to him, blinking rapidly as if trying to shake off the weight of everything.
“That’s him,” I said quietly, pointing toward the TV where Damien’s face still flashed in front of me. My chest tightened at the sight of him, the man I had once believed could be my forever.
My father’s eyes followed my finger, and then his mouth fell open. “Wait, that man? Was he the one who hurt you?” His voice was thick with disbelief, his anger palpable as he stared at the screen.
He was already angry, protective—every father is when they see their daughter broken.
I shook my head slowly, forcing a smile onto my lips despite the way my heart felt like it was cracking open. “No, he’s not the one who hurt me.” I let out a soft sigh. “He’s the werewolf Alpha I fell in love with.”
My dad blinked, confused, his brow furrowing. The anger slowly faded from his expression, replaced by sheer confusion.
He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t seem to find the words. His eyes flickered back to me, to the TV, and then back to me again.
I knew how ridiculous it must have sounded. My life had become some kind of tragic fairy tale, a wild rollercoaster of love and pain, lies and truths I couldn’t seem to make sense of.
It was a love story that had begun with passion and ended in shattered promises.
How could I explain that to my dad? How could I tell him that this man, this Alpha who had meant the world to me, was now a stranger?
I sighed again, letting my body sink deeper into the hospital bed, the exhaustion finally catching up with me. I had been running on empty for too long. The mental and emotional weight of everything was too much to carry anymore.
Just as I was about to lay back, closing my eyes in defeat, the door to my hospital room opened.
A soft knock followed, and in walked the doctor, his face impassive as always. I looked up at him, not sure whether I was relieved to see him or dreading whatever news he had for me.
“Ms. Turner,” he began, addressing me in his usual clinical manner. “I have the results, and I’m happy to report you’re doing better than we expected.” He gave me a small nod, as though that was all the encouragement I needed.
My dad heaves a deep sigh of relief..
“There’s some good news too,” he said with a faint smile. I raised an eyebrow, waiting. He seemed to hesitate for a moment as he turned to Dad before continuing. “Ms. Turner, you’re pregnant.”
The words hit me like a slap to the face.
Pregnant.
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I blinked, certain I had heard him wrong.
“What?” My voice was barely above a whisper, and I had to clear my throat before I could speak again. “Pregnant?