Marina sat by the veranda, her tea untouched, eyes drifting toward the hallway where Kira had disappeared hours ago.
She couldn't sit still.
Asha's warning echoed in her mind—brief, cryptic, but heavy. The baby. It's in danger.
Marina didn't know whether to believe it. She didn't know if she could afford not to.
She had ignored a warning once before, and the cost had left a mark she still carried.
So this time, she chose caution.
She called Theo's driver, Mark. He's a quiet man with sharp eyes and a talent for blending in. She asked him to mingle with the staff, act like one of them, and keep an eye on Kira. Not to interfere. Just to observe. And report anything… unusual.
Mark nodded without question. "Understood, ma'am."
Meanwhile, Kira spent the day in her room.
Others assumed she was resting due to pregnancy fatigue, morning nausea, the usual. But inside, Kira paced like a trapped animal. Her hands trembled as she folded and refolded the same scarf. Her phone screen lit up again and again as she checked the clinic's number, the appointment time, the route.
She had to move tonight.
She had to be quiet.
She had to make sure no one followed.
Outside her door, Mark lingered casually, chatting with a staff member about towel inventory. But his eyes never strayed far.
And Marina, from the veranda, watched the shadows stretch across the villa floor.
She didn't know what was coming.
But she knew something was.
The villa was alive with soft laughter and clinking glasses. Denver sat with his friends near the garden lounge, a bottle of wine open, his cheeks flushed with joy.
"She's pregnant," he said again, grinning. "After three years. Can you believe it?"
His friends cheered, teasing him with mock toasts and exaggerated parenting advice. Denver laughed, his heart full. He had even called his parents earlier that day, voice trembling with excitement.
"Where's Kira?" one of his friends asked.
"She's resting now," he said, glancing toward the villa. "I didn't want to disturb her."
He didn't notice the shadow that slipped past the hallway.
Kira, dressed in a plain blouse and jeans, her hair tied back, moved quietly through the corridor. Her steps were light, rehearsed. Her bag was small just enough for the night. She avoided the main exit, choosing the side path near the laundry area.
Mark, stationed nearby, caught the movement.
He stepped back, pulled out his phone, and dialed.
"Ma'am," he said quietly. "She's moving. Alone. Bag in hand."
Marina, still in her room, stood up immediately. "Follow her. Don't let her out of sight. I'll be right behind."
She hung up, changed swiftly into a neutral outfit, grabbed her keys, and called Theo.
"I need you to drive," she said. "Now."
Theo, already sensing the urgency, didn't ask questions. "on my way."
Outside, Denver raised his glass again, laughing with his friends.
Kira paused at the edge of the garden, watching him.
Her heart ached.
She loved him. She truly did.
It had been a mistake—one night, one moment of weakness. And now, this child wasn't his.
She turned away, guilt pressing against her ribs like a stone.
She had to fix it.
She had to erase it.
And behind her, Mark followed quietly.
Marina had just stepped out of the villa's side entrance, keys in hand, when she caught sight of two familiar silhouettes approaching through the garden path.
Her heart skipped. "Oh no…"
Mr. Rowan Draven, tall and composed in his crisp linen shirt, walked beside his wife, Mrs. Freya Draven, who was practically glowing with excitement. Her pearl earrings swayed with every eager step.
"Marina!" Freya called out, arms already open. "Darling girl!"
Marina forced a smile as she and Theo were swept into warm hugs.
"You didn't tell us you were visiting," Marina said, trying to keep her voice light.
"We couldn't stay away," Freya beamed. "Rowan told me to wait until the weekend, but I said, 'No! I want to see my daughter-in-law glowing!'"
Rowan chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "She wore me down. You know how she gets when she's excited."
Theo gave a polite nod. "Uncle, Auntie. It's good to see you."
Freya turned to him with a fond smile. "Theo, you've grown even more handsome. Still single?"
Theo blinked. "Unfortunately."
"Good," Freya said with a wink. "Stay that way until I find you someone worthy."
Marina laughed nervously. "Come, let's find Denver. He's in the garden with some friends."
As they walked, Freya clutched Marina's arm. "I can't believe it. A baby! After three years! I cried when Denver told us. I've already started knitting."
Marina's smile faltered. "That's… wonderful."
They reached the garden lounge, where Denver sat with two of his friends, mid-laugh, a glass of wine in hand.
He looked up, surprised. "Mom? Dad?"
Freya rushed forward and cupped his face. "My baby's having a baby!"
Denver laughed. "What are you doing here?"
"She insisted," Rowan said, shaking his head. "Said she couldn't sleep knowing Kira was pregnant and she hadn't seen her yet."
"I had to," Freya said. "Where is she? I want to hug her. I want to see her glow!"
Denver smiled, gesturing toward the villa. "She's inside. Probably resting."
Before he could say more, Freya was already moving—swift and determined.
"I'll be quick! Just a peek!" she called over her shoulder.
Rowan and Denver exchanged amused glances, shaking their heads.
"She's unstoppable," Denver said.
But Marina's stomach dropped.
Kira's not there.
She turned to Theo, voice low and urgent. "We need to move. Now."
Theo's eyes sharpened. "What's going on?"
"I'll explain in the car," Marina said, already pulling out her phone to check Mark's last message.
And inside the villa, Mrs. Freya Draven was heading toward an empty room.
Without a word, Marina grabbed Theo's wrist and turned sharply toward the side corridor.
"This way," she whispered to the puzzled Theo. "We need to catch her before—"
"Marina!" came a cheerful voice behind them.
Marina froze mid-step, her grip still on Theo's sleeve.
Mrs. Freya Draven turned around halfway and, smiling brightly, said, "Accompany me, dear. I want to see Kira!"
Theo glanced at Marina, sensing her hesitation.
Marina turned slowly, her heart thudding. "Yes, Auntie."
Freya was already walking toward the guest wing, heels clicking with excitement. "Just a quick visit. I won't disturb her long."
Marina checked her phone again—no new update from Mark. Her fingers tightened around the device.
She followed Freya, dragging her feet, each step toward Kira's room heavier than the last.
Freya reached the door first, her voice bubbling. "Kira, darling! It's me!"
She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Empty.
The bed was made. The curtains drawn. No sign of movement.
"Kira?" Freya called again, stepping inside. "Sweetheart?"
Silence.
She turned, puzzled. "She's not here."
Marina swallowed. "Maybe she stepped out for air."
Freya frowned. "But Denver said she was resting."
Without waiting, she strode back toward the garden lounge, her heels clicking faster now.
Marina followed, pulse racing, eyes flicking to her phone again.
Still no message.
Denver looked up as they approached, still laughing with his friends.
"She's not in the room," Freya said, confused. "Did she go somewhere?"
Denver blinked. "She should be there. Maybe she went to the kitchen?"
Kira was already gone.
And Marina had no idea how far.
Denver had searched the villa—Kira's favorite reading nook, the garden bench near the fountain, even the spa lounge. Nothing.
He asked the staff. No one had seen her.
He walked the resort perimeter, checking the café, the poolside cabanas, the boutique.
Still nothing.
Back at the lounge, Marina's phone buzzed.
Mark's message: *She's at the clinic. Small, run-down place near the old highway. She just arrived.*
Marina's breath caught. She looked up, saw Denver returning, his expression tight.
Before he could speak, she stepped forward, voice light but awkward. "Oh—right. I suddenly remembered. Kira mentioned earlier she might go to the clinic. She wasn't feeling well."
Theo glanced at her, knowing full well she was lying.
Denver frowned. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
"I—I wasn't sure," Marina said, trying to sound casual. "I've been busy managing the staff. It's a company outing, after all."
Denver's voice sharpened. "She went alone? Without telling me? Without anyone to accompany her?"
Marina felt the sting of his tone. "I didn't know she'd actually go. One of your employees mentioned it in the lobby, just in passing."
Denver narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
Marina hesitated. "I… I didn't catch the name."
Denver pulled out his phone. "I'll find out. That's irresponsible."
Marina stepped in quickly. "Maybe we should just go and pick her up?"
That softened the air.
Rowan nodded. "Yes. Better to check on her."
Freya clutched her purse. "I want to see her. Make sure she's alright."
Denver exhaled, tension easing. "Alright. Let's go."
Marina glanced at Theo, who gave her a subtle nod.
Theo drove with steady hands, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The car was quiet, save for the occasional hum of tires against the pavement.
Denver sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, brows furrowed. He hadn't spoken much since they left the villa.
In the backseat, Marina sat together with Mr. Rowan and Mrs. Freya Draven. Freya clutched her purse tightly, her voice soft but anxious.
"I hope she's alright," Freya murmured. "She's pregnant. What if something's wrong?"
Rowan placed a calming hand on her arm. "Let's not jump to conclusions. It could be a routine checkup."
Marina said nothing. Her eyes stayed on her phone, waiting for any new message from Mark.
Theo turned down a narrow road, the buildings thinning out. Ahead stood a small, aging clinic—its paint faded, the signage barely legible.
He parked.
Denver frowned. "This can't be it. Are you sure?"
Marina nodded quickly. "Yes. This is the place."
Rowan tilted his head, scanning the surroundings. "Looks… neglected."
Freya was already unbuckling her seatbelt. "Let's go. I want to see her."
They stepped out, the air heavy with unease.
Mark, blending in with the group, quietly stepped behind Theo and leaned in.
"She's in Room 3," he whispered. "She's preparing to abort."
Theo's jaw tightened. He gave a subtle nod.
Denver stepped into the clinic, his frown deepening. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead. The waiting area was empty. A nurse glanced up, startled by the sudden group.
Theo turned to the hallway and began walking.
"Room 3," he said quietly.
Denver followed, his steps growing faster.
And Marina, heart pounding, walked behind them—knowing what they were about to find.
Theo led the group down the dim hallway, the clinic's flickering lights casting long shadows on the floor. Mark followed silently behind, his presence unnoticed.
They stopped outside Room 3.
Theo glanced back once, then gently pushed the door open.
Inside, Kira sat on the edge of a narrow bed, speaking quietly with a doctor in a faded white coat. Her hands trembled in her lap. A clipboard rested beside her.
She looked up—and froze.
Mrs. Freya Draven rushed forward, arms outstretched. "Kira! Oh, my dear, are you alright?"
Kira blinked, stunned. "Auntie—?"
Denver stepped in behind his mother, voice tight with concern. "What's wrong? Does your stomach ache? Why didn't you tell me?"
Kira's breath caught. Her eyes darted to the doctor, then to Marina, then to Theo.
How are they here? How did they find me? I'm doomed.
The doctor, unaware of the emotional storm brewing, looked up calmly. "Which of you is the husband?"
Denver stepped forward. "I am."
"Good," the doctor said, reaching for the clipboard. "We'll need your signature. Husband's approval is required for the procedure."
The room fell silent.
Time stopped.
Mrs. Freya's hand flew to her mouth. "A-abortion?" Her voice cracked. "What's going on?"
Her knees buckled, and Mr. Rowan caught her just in time.
The doctor continued, unfazed. "Here are the papers. Once signed, we'll begin the operation."
Denver stared at the clipboard.
Then, with a sudden burst of motion, he snatched it and threw it across the room.
"Are you out of your mind?" he shouted.
The doctor stepped back, startled.
Denver turned to Kira, his voice low, trembling. "Explain."
Kira couldn't speak.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Then—tears.
And the only word she could manage, over and over, was—
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
Denver stood still, his face unreadable.
And behind him, Marina lowered her gaze.
The room was thick with silence, broken only by Kira's quiet sobs.
Denver stood frozen, his gaze locked on her, waiting, and hoping for an explanation that wouldn't come.
Then, from the back of the room, Mark stepped forward.
He didn't speak.
He simply handed his phone to Theo.
Theo glanced at the screen.
A photo.
Taken earlier, just outside the clinic.
A man, he's tall, and tense while grabbing Kira's wrist. His face twisted in disbelief. Kira pulling away, her expression panicked.
Mark had taken the photo, then crept closer in the shadows to spy on them.
Earlier, outside the clinic…
Kira had just stepped out of the car, her coat drawn tightly around her. The wind tugged at her hair, and the faded sign of the clinic loomed ahead like a verdict.
She didn't see him at first.
But then his hand grabbed her wrist.
"Kira," he said, voice low, urgent.
She froze.
He stood there, eyes wide, disbelief etched across his face. "You're really doing this?"
Kira's breath caught. "Let go."
"You didn't even tell me," he said, his grip loosening slightly. "You were just going to erase it like it never happened?"
"It was a mistake," she whispered. "It wasn't supposed to happen. I love my husband."
He shook his head. "But this is my child too."
Kira looked away. "No. It's a consequence. That's all."
He stepped closer, voice cracking. "You said you didn't know what to do. That you needed time. And now you're here—alone—about to end it without even telling me?"
"I had to choose," she said, eyes brimming. "And I chose my marriage."
He stared at her, stunned. "You think this fixes it?"
Kira pulled her wrist free. "It's the only way I can live with myself."
He didn't stop her.
He just stood there, watching as she walked toward the clinic doors.
That man was the child's father.
Theo stared at the image for a long moment. Then he forwarded it to Denver.
He tossed Mark's phone back gently and said to Denver, "Check your phone."
Then, with a quiet finality, he added, "You decide."
He turned and walked out. Mark followed silently.
Denver's phone buzzed. He looked down. And the world tilted.
His hands trembled as he stared at the photo. The man. The grip. Kira's face.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
Then one after another Marina's, Mr. Rowan's, and Mrs. Freya's phones buzzed.
They checked their screens.
And the silence deepened.
Mrs. Freya gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "No…" realization hits.
Mr. Rowan's jaw tightened, his arm instinctively steadying his wife.
Marina closed her eyes, her breath shallow.
And Denver is still staring at the photo then finally looked up.
His eyes met Kira's.
And everything between them hung by a thread.
Back at the villa, the air had grown heavy.
Asha lay curled on the floor of her room, her breath ragged, her skin slick with sweat. The fever had returned sharp, punishing, relentless.
Her bones felt as though they were being crushed from the inside, each joint pulsing with heat and pressure. She clawed at the sheets, her voice breaking through the silence.
"Make it stop," she gasped. "Please—make it stop."
No one was there to hear her.
This was the price.
She had warned Marina. She had interfered.
And now, the balance demanded payment.
Her gift, this cursed sensitivity to life and death and was never meant to be used freely. Every time she stepped in, every time she tried to shift the course of fate, it came back for her.
She hated it.
She hated the way her body betrayed her, the way her mind blurred with pain, scent, and memory.
She saw flashes of Kira's face, Denver's joy, Marina's panic.
She saw the child.
And she saw the shadow that hovered near it.
Asha screamed again, her voice raw, her body trembling.
Outside her door, the villa remained quiet.
But something had shifted.
And Asha, writhing in agony knew the story was far from over.