Eleanor came from another life—one she seldom spoke of. Her first marriage had ended in tragedy, not with words or time, but with betrayal that shattered her soul. Her husband, unwilling to bear the weight of a child, had taken matters into his own hands. Without her knowing, he ended the pregnancy. A silent murder in her womb. He tried to hide it, to disguise it as a cruel twist of fate. But Eleanor found out. And when she did, she walked away. Leaving behind the ruins of love and the corpse of trust. Since then, solitude had been her safest companion. To trust again felt like setting her heart on fire.
Then came Ethan. A scientist. Kind. Thoughtful. Steady in ways that made her want to believe. He never pushed, never pried. Over time, friendship bloomed into something fragile and new. When he proposed, she told herself she would give him only one chance. A single thread of trust, offered carefully.
And to her quiet astonishment, Ethan held it like glass.
A year into their marriage, she gave birth to Rei—their first child. Bright-eyed, curious, and gentle, Rei was the best of them both. He gave Eleanor something she never thought she'd feel again: peace.
Six years passed, quiet and golden.
Then she became pregnant again.
At first, it was joy. Laughter filled their home, and Rei drew little pictures of a baby with giant hands and stars for eyes.
But barely a week in, things changed. Eleanor grew dizzy, sick, unbearably tired. Her limbs felt like stone. Her body weakened by the hour. She could barely stay awake.
On the fifth day, she collapsed in the kitchen, mid-breakfast.
Ethan rushed her to the hospital, fear etched into every step. There, under sterile lights and cold machines, a diagnosis came—delivered by Olivia, a longtime friend of Ethan's and a doctor he still trusted.
"She's being drained," Olivia said, frowning at the test results. "It's as if the baby is... consuming her. Not just feeding off her, but taking everything."
Ethan stared, mind reeling. He looked like he wanted to say something—but he didn't.
"Looks like the baby needs too much to grow," Olivia murmured, glancing between Eleanor and the charts.
Beside him, little Rei clung to Ethan's leg, his tiny fingers clutching his father's coat. His wide eyes took everything in—the words, the fear.
Ethan knelt down and ran a hand gently over Rei's hair, a smile stretched too thin across his face.
They tried everything. Every treatment. Every test. Nothing worked.
With each passing day, Eleanor withered. As the baby grew, she vanished. Flesh faded from bone. She became a ghost in a hospital bed, sustained only by machines and hope that cracked more each hour.
Then came a rainy night.
The world outside blurred into silver streaks across the windows. Inside the room, the only light came from green monitors casting a ghostly glow over Eleanor's still form.
Ethan stood in the doorway, his silhouette long and heavy beneath the hall light.
He entered slowly and sat on the chair beside her, his shoulders hunched forward. His fists clenched. His mind racing, clawing through every formula, every failed hypothesis.
A soft shuffle behind him.
Rei, still in his little sweater with the stitched moon and stars, stepped into the room. He held something in his hand—a drawing, crumpled slightly from being held too tight. Their family. Four stick figures beneath a purple sky.
He approached his father quietly.
Ethan looked at him, his expression softening for a moment. He patted Rei's head.
"Father..." Rei whispered, "is Mother going to die?"
Ethan froze. "Rei, buddy... you shouldn't be here. You should be asleep."
"I couldn't sleep. I heard the nurses... They said she might not wake up."
Rei offered the picture, his small hands trembling. Ethan took it carefully. His fingers shook.
"Why is the baby hurting her?" Rei asked, his eyes drifting to the machines.
Ethan swallowed. "The baby doesn't mean to. Something inside them... it's just different. The baby needs too much."
A long pause.
Rei looked up at him. "You always said life is about choices. So...what do we choose now?"
Ethan closed his eyes. "We choose to save them both. No matter what it costs."
The next day
Olivia stood over a tray of samples, her eyes red from sleepless nights. She hadn't left the lab in days. Every test had led to more questions. Every attempt, another dead end.
Then she heard a voice behind her.
"You're the doctor helping my mother."
She turned. Rei stood there, arms crossed, dark circles under his eyes.
Olivia smiled gently. "I am. I'm trying my best."
"You look tired."
She chuckled softly. "So do you."
"I want to help."
That stopped her.
"You want to help?"
Rei pulled a notebook from his hoodie. It was filled with childish writing, diagrams, phrases copied from textbooks far beyond his grade—cell growth, nutrient transfer, accelerated metabolism.
"I read Dad's books. If the baby's cells are growing too fast, maybe you can slow them down?"
Olivia knelt to his level, stunned. "You've been studying?"
He nodded. "Mother and Father said learning helps protect people. So I want to learn faster."
A tightness filled her chest. That fire in his eyes—it was Ethan's. That unwavering, fierce love.
"You're already helping," she whispered. "You're giving your mom something no medicine can. A reason to fight."
Rei looked away. "I just want her to come home."
"She will," Olivia said, pulling him into a hug. "I promise on my life—she will."
That night
Olivia stood alone in the hallway, watching Ethan through the glass as he sat by Eleanor's side once more. He hadn't moved from that chair in days.
"I ruined everything once," Olivia whispered to herself. "I don't get to ruin it again."
Years ago, she had let jealousy fester in her heart. She had said things she never meant. Done things she could never take back. And Ethan had walked away. She had deserved that. Even now, after his forgiveness, the past still hung over her like a shadow.
But this—this was her second chance.
Not to fix what was lost. But to save what still remained.
She straightened, her reflection in the glass pale but resolute.
"I'll save her," she whispered. "Even if it costs me everything."