Move! Move!" The stretcher rattled down the corridor, wheels clattering against the floor. Nurses ran alongside, pressing blood‑soaked bandages against the girl's abdomen, their faces tight with urgency.
"She's crashing—keep the fluids going!" a doctor shouted, his voice sharp over the pounding footsteps.
The hospital corridor stretched long and sterile, its white walls glowing under harsh fluorescent lights. The air smelled of antiseptic, sharp enough to sting the nose. The double doors to the operating theater swung open, spilling a flood of cold brightness into the hallway.
Inside, surgeons stood waiting, instruments lined in neat rows on stainless‑steel trays. The hum of machines filled the room, steady and unrelenting. The team pushed her under the lamps. The lead surgeon snapped on his gloves, leaning forward, prepared to fight for her life.
Am I going to die here? Thalia's mind whispered as the lights blurred above her. Is this how it ends? After everything… will it all be for nothing?
The room filled with the metallic clink of tools, the rush of voices, and the rhythm of commands. For a moment, everything hung between life and death.
---
Hours later, the patient room door opened slowly. A middle‑aged man stepped inside, stethoscope around his neck, white coat brushing against his knees. His steps were steady, carrying the weight of news.
He moved closer to the bed. Thalia lay there, pale, her wrist tethered to a drip line. Her long black hair was messy across the pillow, strands falling into her face. The faint hum of the monitor filled the silence, each beep marking the fragile rhythm of her survival.
"Miss. Reeds," the doctor said, holding a file as he glanced through it. His tone was calm, but his eyes carried heaviness. "I am happy to inform you that you are out of immediate danger."
Thalia looked up, lips trembling as she tried to force a smile. "Thank you, doctor," she whispered, her voice thin, almost breaking.
But his voice continued, heavier now. "There was a problem. We were unable to save your pregnancy."
The words struck her like a blow. Her chest tightened, her heart racing. No… no, not again. Why must everything be taken from me?
The monitor beside her spiked, its beeping rising in alarm.
"Nurse! Quickly!" the doctor shouted, moving toward her as panic spread across her face.
The nurse rushed in, syringe ready. She leaned close, voice urgent but soft. "It's going to be okay."
The needle slid into Thalia's skin. Cold medicine flowed through her veins. Her heartbeat slowed, her vision dimmed. Maybe it's better if I don't wake up… she thought faintly, before darkness pulled her under.
---
Her name was the only thing she had been given at birth. Thalia. It was written on a red cotton coat wrapped around her tiny body when she was left at the entrance of an orphanage. Abandoned before she could even open her eyes to the world, she was taken in by the Good Home Orphanage.
The orphanage was a crumbling building on the edge of the city. Its walls were cracked, paint peeling, and the smell of dampness lingered in every corridor. Thin blankets covered the beds, and the children huddled together at night against the cold.
Life there was far from pleasant. Her earliest years were filled with bullying and abuse.
Thalia became known in the orphanage for her sharp mind. She won awards for her school and for the orphanage, her intellect shining even in the darkest corners. But success bred envy. Other children grew jealous, and she became their target.
She was too weak to fight back. Every insult, every blow, she endured in silence, keeping the pain locked inside. If I cry, they'll laugh. If I fight, they'll hurt me more. Better to stay quiet. Better to pretend it doesn't matter.
The adults turned away, busy embezzling the funds meant for the children's care. Food was scarce, bowls often filled with thin porridge or nothing at all.
For Thalia, it was worse. Small and frail, she was an easy target. Her belongings were stolen, her days filled with taunts and cruelty. Nights were colder, lonelier, as she lay awake staring at the cracked ceiling. Why did they leave me? Why didn't anyone want me?
At fourteen, a spark of hope appeared. She earned a scholarship to Sliversaint Academy, a prestigious school known across the city.
When she received the news, she believed her life was finally about to change. Maybe this is it. Maybe God hasn't forgotten me after all.
Sliversaint Academy was everything it promised — towering gates, polished marble floors, and classrooms filled with the children of the wealthy. The uniforms were crisp, the halls lined with portraits of past scholars. Stepping through its gates, Thalia vowed not to let her past define her future. This is my chance. I won't waste it. I'll prove I belong here.
But fate was cruel.
The academy was built for the wealthy, the powerful. Though her brilliance shone — she topped every class, her extraordinary intellect undeniable — her secret could not stay hidden. When the students discovered she was an orphan, a nobody, their envy turned to scorn.
The torment began again. The academy became a mirror of the orphanage, filled with whispers, insults, and isolation.
Every day was a test of endurance. She walked the halls with her head lowered, her books clutched tightly, her heart heavy with the same loneliness she thought she had escaped. Why does it always repeat? No matter where I go.
And just when her world seemed ready to collapse once more, a new light entered her life. His name was Ryan.