Celina’s POV
I HATED the smell of hospitals. That sharp bite of disinfectant, the sterile chill of white walls and fluorescent lights, the faint undercurrent of despair that clung to every hallway. I hated being here, hated lying on a narrow bed with wires strapped to my skin and monitors blinking with every faint echo of life inside me.
My hand hovered protectively over my stomach as the nurse adjusted the machine. The soft whoosh of the ultrasound filled the room, and I caught a glimpse of movement on the screen. A tiny flicker, so fragile yet so powerful, it rooted me in place. My throat tightened, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. That flicker was my baby. My child.
The doctor’s voice was steady but grave as he spoke. “You’ve been under tremendous stress, Celina. The bleeding i
