They rushed Gina into the physician's room. Ruso was nowhere to be found.
Mirha's voice trembled as she commanded the nearest maid,
"Go—go fetch Physician Ruso now!"
Her breaths were shortening with fear. Gina's hands were cold in hers, far too cold. Mirha held them tightly while Mayora wiped the sweat from Gina's forehead, whispering prayers under her breath. Yuma worked quickly, cleaning the blood-soaked gown with practiced efficiency.
But then Yuma froze.
Her hands stopped moving. Her eyes narrowed—not with confusion, but recognition. She stepped back, lips parting in a quiet sigh, then spoke softly to Mayora in Madish, her tone grim:
"It's very bad. Let me speak to you outside."
Yuma had no idea Mirha understood every word.
Mirha's head snapped toward her, voice sharp and steady as she responded in flawless Madish:
"You will say it right here, Yuma. Or were you planning to keep it from me?"
Yuma's heart dropped. Her knees hit the floor instantly.
She shifted to Evan, bowing low.
"I—I'm so sorry, Your Majesty… I did not know you spoke Madish. I wasn't trying to hide— I only meant—"
Mirha cut her off, her tone firm but breaking beneath the surface:
"Yuma. What is wrong with Gina?"
Silence.
Then Yuma lifted her eyes, and her voice, still in Madish, was gentle but unflinching:
"Your Majesty… it is a miscarriage."
The words struck the room like a stone thrown into still water.
Mirha's breath caught. Her eyes closed in heartbreak. She squeezed Gina's cold hand tighter, as if willing strength back into her.
Beside her, Mayora's fingers trembled around the towel she held, gripping it until her knuckles turned white.
Mirha swallowed hard, her voice barely steady as she asked:
"Yuma… are you absolutely sure?"
Yuma's gaze dropped to the floor. She nibbled her lower lip — the kind of expression only worn when the truth was far too heavy.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she whispered.
"But I'm certain… Lady Gina has lost her fetus."
The words seemed to stretch the air, making the room suffocatingly still.
Suddenly, Gina stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused at first… then narrowing in confusion as Yuma's words reached her ears.
"What… what are you talking about?" she murmured.
Yuma stood and bowed deeply. "Your Grace, forgive me—"
"Don't be sorry," Gina said, louder, pushing herself up weakly. "Because you are mistaken."
Mirha's face tightened with a fragile hope, but also fear.
"Gina…"
Gina pulled her hand away from Mirha's, frustration shaking her voice.
"Stop it. Mirha, believe me."
Her breath trembled.
"I was never pregnant."
Silence. A deep, heavy silence.
Mirha looked at her with heartbreak softening every line of her face — not because she doubted Gina, but because she could already feel the truth slipping through the cracks.
Before anyone could speak, Ruso rushed in, out of breath from running across the estate.
"What happened—?"
He immediately went to Gina and began examining her with quick, focused hands. The room held its breath.
But moments later, he stood up. His expression was grave.
"Young Duchess… I'm afraid Yuma was correct."
Gina stared at him — blank, almost expressionless.
Then she let out the faintest laugh. A breathless, shocked laugh.
"That's… ridiculous," she whispered.
"How could I lose a child I didn't even know I had?"
Her voice cracked, a painful mix of disbelief and sorrow.
And in that moment, the weight of it settled on everyone — Mirha, Mayora, Yuma, even Ruso.
The room felt colder.
And Gina, for the first time that day, looked truly small.
The room was still thick with the shock of Ruso's confirmation when hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.
Rnzo burst through the door — and Arvin followed a moment later, his expression sharp and unreadable.
Everyone immediately stood and bowed.
But Rnzo didn't wait for ceremony.
He rushed to Gina's side, dropping to his knees beside the bed.
"Gina—love—what happened?" His voice shook. "What's the issue?"
Ruso stepped forward with reluctant solemnity.
"Young Duke… Lady Gina has suffered a miscarriage."
Rnzo's face went blank.
"A… miscarriage?" His brows drew together. "What miscarriage?
What child?"
Gina let out a trembling breath, eyes filling again.
"Exactly," she whispered brokenly. "What child?"
The confusion rippled through the room like a physical wave. Even the attendants were frozen.
Ruso cleared his throat and tried to explain gently.
"It is possible you were unaware, my lady. Early-term pregnancies, especially in very active women, can be missed…"
Gina's tears finally spilled, sliding silently down her cheeks.
"But I'm supposed to be its mother."
Her voice cracked raw, trembling.
"Why didn't I know? How could I not know?"
Rnzo's face twisted with pain. He cupped her cheek, brushing away her tears as if the gesture alone could hold her together.
"Shh, love… no. Don't do that to yourself."
He pressed his forehead lightly to hers.
"This is not your fault. Not in any way. Don't cry."
Arvin watched them for a moment — one long, knowing glance.
The kind that said this grief was theirs, not the room's to witness.
He lifted his hand, subtle but firm, signaling everyone to step back.
Then he reached for Mirha's hand.
"Come," he murmured quietly.
Mirha gave Gina one last heartbroken look before letting Arvin guide her out.
The door closed softly behind them, leaving husband and wife alone with their grief.
Gina's sobs were small at first, shaking against Rnzo's chest like she was trying not to break too loudly.
But once he wrapped his arms fully around her, she clung to him — fingers gripping his robe, face buried in the crook of his neck — and the dam cracked.
He held her through every trembling breath, every shudder, every gulp for air.
Eventually, the storm inside her settled to a fragile quiet.
She relaxed against him, exhausted, lying in his arms on the physician's bed.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Unpredictable.
Wounding.
Rnzo stroked her arm gently, but his throat was tight.
He didn't know what to say.
Everything felt wrong.
Too sudden.
Too cruel.
Then Gina spoke.
Her voice was so numb, so hollow, it almost didn't feel like hers.
"So… I lost our very first child like that."
A single tear slid down her cheek and fell onto Rnzo's hand.
The words hit him like an arrow.
Our first child.
Something inside him twisted — a deep, raw ache followed instantly by a burst of anger.
Not at her.
Not at the child.
At himself.
At the fact that he hadn't known.
At the fact that she had carried something so precious without either of them realizing.
At the fact that she had suffered silently, unknowingly, until it was too late.
Rnzo tightened his hold around her, jaw clenching as the emotion rose in his chest like fire.
"I should have known…" he whispered under his breath, voice trembling with frustration.
"I should have been there—"
Gina shook her head weakly, eyes still closed.
"Don't blame yourself," she whispered, though she sounded like she barely believed it.
He rested his forehead on her hair, his arms tightening even more.
But the truth echoed painfully in his chest.
Their very first child… gone before they even knew it existed.
And all he could do was hold her — because there were no words strong enough to soothe a loss they hadn't even been prepared to grieve.