CHAPTER 380: NO HEARTBEAT...

Lyla

The smell of fresh coffee lingered in the kitchen, but I couldn’t enjoy it. My legs trembled. I clutched the doorframe, blinking hard, trying to steady the world tilting around me. The man—what was his name again?—the mechanic, was pointing, his eyes wide with alarm.

"You’re bleeding," he said, his voice oddly muffled through the ringing in my ears.

I followed his gaze to my legs.

Blood.

A dark stream was sliding down the inside of my thighs, staining my cotton dress and pooling on the floor beneath me.

I didn’t panic—not yet. My mind refused to process what I was seeing.

"No," I whispered, one hand clutching my belly as a cramp tore through me, sharper than before.

The mechanic was already moving, his hands out. "Ma’am, you need to sit down. You need—"

A police siren screamed through the street, pulling up in front of our house.

Two officers stepped out. One of them, a woman in her late forties with short black hair and a wary gaze, scanned the property. The male officer beside her looked more eager, more aggressive.

"Is this 17 Elmsworth?" the woman asked.

The mechanic turned, shielding me slightly with his body. "Yes, but I think she’s having a medical emergency."

"We got a complaint of property destruction and possible assault. Where’s the suspect?"

I couldn’t speak. Pain lanced through me again, and I dropped to one knee, gasping.

That’s when Ramsey came barreling through the front door.

"Lyla!" His voice filled with panic.

He crossed the room in two steps and caught me just before I hit the floor. My body curled against his instinctively. I could barely register the mechanic explaining the situation to the officers or the female cop calling for an ambulance on her radio.

"I’m fine," I mumbled, clutching Ramsey’s shirt. "I’m fine. The babies—"

"Don’t talk," he said. His voice was trembling. "Just breathe. I’ve got you."

The paramedics arrived moments later. They didn’t waste time. Ramsey growled when they tried to touch me at first, but one look at my pale face calmed him. He lifted me into the stretcher himself.

As they wheeled me out, I caught a glimpse of Paul standing beside the police car, his arms folded and a smug look on his face. He hadn’t even flinched at the sight of my blood.

"You’ll regret this," Ramsey told him as they pushed me toward the ambulance.

Paul shrugged. "You attacked me. This is how the law works here."

Ramsey lunged forward, but the female officer stepped between them. "Not now," she said quietly. "Be with your wife."

Ramsey turned without another word and followed me into the ambulance.

When we arrived at the hospital, a team of doctors and nurses was already waiting to take me.

The white lights above me blurred as I tried to stay conscious. I gripped Ramsey’s hand like a lifeline. He didn’t let go, not even once.

"It’s too early," I whispered. "Ramsey... It’s too early."

"Don’t think about that now," he said. "Just breathe. We’ll get through this."

"Do you know how long gone she is?" One of the doctors had climbed onto the stretcher to check on me.

"I’ll be five months gone this Friday," I muttered.

"Are you registered somewhere? Can I see your antenatal charts?" the doctor asked again.

I saw Ramsey staring at her with confusion. Giving her the antenatal chart wasn’t the problem; the problem was that words like pup, and " cycles of the moon were all over the card. It would be difficult to explain that, so I had to lie.

"We didn’t come with it, doc," I said tiredly, trying to keep my eyes open. "We just came into this place three days ago. It’s a short trip, we didn’t think something like this would happen."

The doctor wanted to lash out at us, but she looked from me to Ramsey and sighed before asking.

"First-time parents?"

I nodded.

By this time, we had reached the ER, and a nurse turned to Ramsey, holding him back.

"I’m sorry, sir, but you cannot go beyond this place. You can wait outside the ER, and if we need you, we’ll let you in..."

"No!" Ramsey swatted her hand away, reaching for the rolling stretcher. The stretcher came to a halt at once. "I must be with her. She has no one here except me."

"We know that, sir," the doctor said, coming down from the stretcher, giving Ramsey a kind smile. "But to be able to concentrate on saving the lives of your wife and your baby..."

"Babies," Ramsey corrected. "They’re twin."

"Makes the situation even more precarious. It’s hospital policy, hang around and let us save your wife, please."

Ramsey was about to protest when I quickly reached out to him through our mate bond.

I’ll be fine, my love. They’ll take care of me.

He stared at me helplessly for a few seconds before letting go of the stretcher, and they wheeled me inside the ER. Inside, a nurse pushed my hair out of my face, telling me to stay awake. They hooked me up to a machine, did an ultrasound, and checked my vitals.

"She’s carrying twins indeed," I heard the doctor mutter. She was saying something else, but I couldn’t hear her again. Darkness was filling the room. I tried to call out to the nurse to tell her, but I was so weak.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I gave in to it.

***

You’ll hear it again soon.You have to believe that.

The hospital room was so quiet, it made my skin crawl.

The only sound was the rhythmic beeping of machines, one of which had stopped entirely. I was half-sitting on the elevated bed, propped up by pillows, a gel-covered strap fastened around my belly and leads from the monitor wrapping around like some cruel gift ribbon.

Ramsey stood beside me, holding my hand tightly, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist. His face was blank — too blank. A practised calm that I recognised only because I’d seen him break before. His jaw was clenched, lips white.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with gentle eyes, was frowning at the monitor. He’d been silent too long. Too still.

I knew that look.

I stopped breathing.

He turned to us. "Mrs. Kincaid, Mr. Kincaid... I’ve double-checked the fetal monitor. We were getting strong dual readings earlier today. But now... we can’t seem to locate a heartbeat."

My fingers tightened around Ramsey’s hand.

"I’m sorry," he continued, "but this does sometimes happen in rare pregnancies — especially unusual twin gestations like yours. We need to prepare for the possibility of fetal demise."

Ramsey’s whole body tensed beside me. "What the hell does that mean?"

The doctor raised his palms. "It means the fetuses may no longer be viable. And in cases like this, we often recommend a prompt medical evacuation to protect the mother. Retaining the—"

"No."The word left my mouth like ice. I didn’t shout it. I didn’t need to.

The doctor paused.

"I want to be discharged." My hands were already moving to yank the IV from the crook of my arm.

"Lyla—" Ramsey reached to stop me.

"No!" I tore the monitor straps from my belly. "I’m not staying here one second longer!"

The doctor stepped forward. "Mrs. Kincaid, please—"

"Do not touch me," I snapped, holding his gaze. "They’re not gone. I can feel them. I don’t care what that machine says."

Ramsey gently caught both of my arms and lowered his voice. "Love, please... we don’t know what’s happening yet. Just take a breath, alright?"

"I’m not staying here while they talk about cutting my babies out of me like some expired fruit, Ramsey. I’m not!" My voice broke, and tears were falling down my cheeks freely now

"Doctor," Ramsey said through clenched teeth. "Give us a moment."

He ushered the man out of the room and then came back to kneel in front of me. He brushed a strand of hair off my damp cheek and rested his forehead against mine.

"Breathe, Lyla," he whispered.

"I can’t..." I sobbed. "They said there’s no heartbeat."

"I know. But I also know you. If you say they’re still there, then we’ll trust that. Okay? But let’s do this calmly."

"I want to go home."

"Then we’ll go."

"But they’ll make it hard—"

"I’ll sign whatever waiver they want. Just hold on."

—

Less than an hour later, after three doctors and two nurses pleaded with us to reconsider, we were in the car — the air thick with tension and unspoken fear. My belly still ached, but that stabbing pain from earlier had lessened, and I’d stopped bleeding.

I held my hands over my abdomen now, whispering prayers. Touching it gently. Begging for a flutter. A kick. Anything.

Please.

Please just let me feel something.

The city lights blurred past as Ramsey drove in tense silence. The hospital bag was shoved behind my seat, still half open, with the cuff of a onesie poking out.

The moment I was sure we were clear of the hospital’s reach, I reached for my phone and scrolled to Nanny’s contact.

She picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, baby?" She said softly, making tears well in my eyes.

"Nanny... Mom," My voice trembled. "They said... they said there was no heartbeat. For either of them. They’re saying my babies are dead."