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“Promise me you will think it through.”

Ethan lifted my hands and kissed my knuckles, “I promise, Bella. Now, tell me what’s bothering you?”

I thought back to that day in London and tears welled in my eyes. “When I was in London, I was driving with my roommate at the time, Lea. I stopped at the red light, and we were talking about her crush when—”

A teary sob escaped my throat, and he squeezed my hand, “Tell me, Bella.”

“I am so sorry, Ethan,” I sniffled. “We got into an accident. The driver of the other car was drunk. I had moved in time to cover Lea, but . . .”

“Take a deep breath,” he ordered and left my hands to stand up, “One more, Bella. Here, drink some water.”

When my breathing came back to normal, I remembered the harsh impact of the other car, the scream of Lea, and the sticky blood coating my fingers. The heaviness of my body when someone dragged me out of the car and how the last thing I had seen before losing consciousness was a shard of glass in my abdomen.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried my best to gather myself. I had to tell him. I looked at Ethan’s worried face and said, “I saved Lea, but unfortunately my head had taken a blow. I was concussed and a shard of glass had pierced my abdomen.”

He took a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes went to my waist. “It’s better now. I woke up the next day, and the injury healed within a few days. But that’s not important.” My bottom lip trembled when I continued, “When I woke up, the first thing the doctor said to me was that he was sorry for my loss.”

Ethan shook his head, “I don’t understand.”

“I was pregnant, Ethan.”

As soon as I voiced out those words, silence settled in the room. Ethan stared at me, his body frozen. He blinked and shook his head.

“What?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper.

“Yes, he said I was eight weeks in and the fetus had died on impact as . . . as a shard of glass was impaled in my lower abdomen,” my voice broke and warm tears slid down my face.

“You were pregnant,” he whispered, staring between me and my stomach.

“We didn’t use a condom that night, Ethan. I was still on birth control pills, but I—” A sob broke out of my throat as I said, “I am so sorry, Ethan.”

“You mean to say . . . that we made a baby while we made love to each other?” Ethan said more to himself.

“I am sorry I hid this from you. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t have the courage.”

“Until now,” Ethan said sharply, his eyes blazing with anger. “Untiltoday.”

I tried to hold his hands, but he shook his head. Ethan stood up and paced the room, running his hands through his hair. “I need some time, Kiara. I am going out.”

“Ethan, please don’t.”

He slammed the door shut behind him as I slumped on the bed, hiding my tear-stricken face in my hands. I covered my stomach with another hand as I cried for our unborn child like I had on that day and the reality that I couldn’t save him . . .or her.

We had made love the night of the prom and I had left the next morning, but a part of Ethan had stayed with me, and I didn’t realize that the signs were all there. I had puked and my breasts were hurting and blamed the signs on jet lag or sudden weather change. That accident still shook me to my core. Even though I had saved Lea, I had let my baby die.

No, I had let our child die. I was the one responsible for it.