Chapter 42
The shock was so overwhelming she barely felt the pain anymore. Clutching her blood-soaked lower body, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
“No…! Give me back my child…!”
“Ugh—!”
“This isn’t real… It has to be a dream… This can’t be happening…”
She didn’t know how long she cried and screamed like that.
At some point, her son was there.
With a stricken expression, Carlos wrapped his arms around her and forced her back onto the bed as she thrashed. Wiping the cold sweat from her forehead, he spoke urgently,
“Mother, please—pull yourself together. Can you hear me?”
“Carlos… Carlos… my son… my baby…”
Brunhilde’s gaze was unfocused, her voice trembling with raw emotion. Carlos held her tightly, comforting her as though she had lost the entire world.
“It’s all right. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Your child… my… my child…”
“I’ll call the doctor . But you have to calm down first.”
He murmured that the baby would be fine, gently stroking her cheek and her stomach. Still repeating my child, my child over and over, Brunhilde eventually slipped into unconsciousness, as if she had fainted.
Hours later—
“It’s a miscarriage.”
“W-what…?”
“I’m sorry. The child… did not survive.”
The words struck her like a bolt from a clear sky.
The fragile world Brunhilde had been desperately holding together shattered into pieces. The heart she had painstakingly stitched back together through countless hardships finally collapsed.
Her face turned as pale as a corpse, breath caught in her throat, unable even to breathe properly.
Unable to withstand the shock, she lost consciousness once more.
Not long after, a dull, heavy rain began to fall outside the window, as if mourning the passing of a life that had never even been born.
* * *
After losing the child, after burying the bloodstained cloth, Brunhilde grew visibly weaker.
Nightmares became her constant companion. Every time she fell asleep, she was haunted by visions of black, branch-like shadows tearing apart her child’s lifeless body.
Carlos was her only comfort. Almost every night, she cried herself to sleep in her son’s arms.
Though he must have been grieving the loss of his own child, Carlos never showed a hint of distress. Instead, he simply held her, steady and unwavering.
“I’m sorry, Carlos… I couldn’t protect your first child…”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mother. Don’t blame yourself, just focus on recovering.”
It struck her then that her once-young son had grown into an adult. Carlos comforted her with quiet maturity, taking meticulous care of her health.
Little by little, the wound in her heart—one that had seemed impossible to heal—began to close, if only slightly.
She sat by the window, one hand resting over her now-empty womb, staring blankly outside. Spring has come. It had crept in unnoticed, painting everything in soft, vivid green.
“What are you thinking about so deeply, Mother?”
Perhaps her mind had been too clouded lately that she hadn’t even noticed him enter.
Brunhilde looked at her son—still composed, still beautiful—and gave a faint smile.
He stepped closer, pressing a careful kiss to the crown of her head, where strands of gray had begun to show. Then he bent slightly to meet her eyes.
“Are you feeling a little better today, Mother?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, my dear.”
The smile was weak, but it was far better than before, when she could do nothing but weep. Carlos gently cupped her cheek.
“You need to let this go and move forward.”
“Yes… I will.”
“You’re not in pain anymore, are you?”
“No. I’ve recovered from that. Ah—how is Emily? Is she well?”
For a long time, she had been too consumed by her own suffering to notice anything else.
But now, slowly, the world beyond her grief returned.
Losing her child had been devastating. But the child Emily carried—her son’s child—had to grow safely. Suppressing the ache in her chest, she asked as though she were fine.
“Emily is well. Please don’t worry.”
“Now that I think about it, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen her. I’d like to visit her.”
“I’ll let her know.”
A few days later, Emily invited Brunhilde to visit.
Brunhilde accepted gladly.
Emily, who had only recently returned to the main residence, had lost a noticeable amount of weight. Her skin looked rough, her face thinner, it seemed her morning sickness had been severe.
“You’ve taken quite a toll, haven’t you? Are you still feeling sick?”
“No, Lady Brunhilde… I’m much better now. I heard you haven’t been well either. I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re carrying a child, catching anything would be dangerous. You did the right thing.”
They exchanged a few light words.
After a while, Emily began to look fatigued. Sitting beside her, Carlos gently pulled her closer, brushing her cheek with quiet affection.
“It seems the wife is tired. Let’s finish our tea and end things here.”
“Oh dear, I must have kept her too long, lost in my own thoughts. Yes, let’s do that.”
Emily smiled softly, thanking her for coming. Then she handed Brunhilde a gift she had prepared.
Exotic ornaments and fine porcelain.
“I didn’t bring anything, and yet you’ve given me a gift… Thank you, my dear.”
“It’s nothing. Please, take care and recover soon, Lady Brunhilde.”
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