Leila’s POV
The hospital room was silent, save for the quiet beeping of the machines monitoring my recovery. I lay there staring at the ceiling, numb to everything around . The physical pain was manageable, but the emotional ache gnawed at my insides like a never-ending burn.
I should have been overjoyed. My baby, though fragile and tiny, was alive. I had just t him—my beautiful boy, his little fingers grasping mine as if holding on for dear life. I nad him Elias. His na felt like a promise—a light, sothing pure that I could cling to. But even as I held him for the first ti, tears of joy mixed with frustration. I couldn’t shake the storm brewing inside .
Drake had been standing there when I t Elias, watching as I tried to push the darkness aside for just a mont to embrace this tiny life we had brought into the world. But I couldn’t let him hold the baby. I didn’t want him near , and certainly not near Elias. I didn’t trust him anymore.
How could I?
He accused . He really thought I could be capable of sothing as vile as poisoning myself to harm our child. Our child. The thought of it made sick. Even now, as I lay here, my heart pounded with an anger I couldn’t seem to control.
I hated how much I missed him too, how a part of just wanted to curl into his arms and have him tell everything would be okay. But how could I believe him now? What was the point?
My thoughts spiraled as the mory of his words and accusations replayed in my mind. It was like they were etched into my brain.
"You were drinking from the bottle, Leila! I saw you!"
His voice still rang in my ears, full of disbelief and betrayal. But it wasn’t just what he had seen. It was that he never gave the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t trust —again.
"Leila?" Nelly’s voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. She had been sitting beside , watching closely since I first woke up.
I turned to face her, eyes stinging from tears that had long since dried. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to feel this way. But I couldn’t stop.
"What happened, really?" she asked, her voice calm but firm. "Drake saw you with the wolfbane. Lily said she saw you too. What’s going on?"
I stiffened at the ntion of Lily’s na, my stomach twisting with unease. Lily had seen ? How convenient for her. My mind flashed back to the mont I found the bottle, to the overwhelming curiosity that led to taste it.
"I don’t know," I muttered, shaking my head. "I really don’t know how it happened, Nelly."
"You were drinking from the bottle, though," she pressed gently. "It’s hard to ignore that. And Drake—he caught you red-handed. He’s struggling to understand, and honestly, I can see why."
I clenched my fists, the feeling of betrayal surging again. Of course, she would see it from his perspective. Everyone would. I looked guilty. That much was obvious. But that didn’t an I was.
"I wasn’t trying to hurt the baby," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I know what it looks like, but I swear, Nelly. I didn’t do this on purpose. I—" I struggled to find the words. How could I explain sothing even I barely understood?
I closed my eyes, frustrated with everything—the accusations, the doubt, the confusion. My baby had almost died. I almost died. And yet, Drake’s first instinct was to think I was responsible. He should have been on my side, should have believed in . Instead, he was standing with everyone else, convinced that I was the one to bla.
"Do you know how much it hurts?" I snapped, sitting up a little despite the pain in my body. "How much it kills that he doesn’t believe ? That he’s always ready to think the worst of ?"
Nelly’s face softened, but she didn’t say anything. She just let speak, let pour out the frustration that had been boiling inside since all of this began.
"I can’t take it anymore," I continued, my voice shaking. "Every ti sothing happens, he doubts . He didn’t trust when Lily tried to fra the first ti, and now, when I needed him most, when I nearly lost our baby—he still doesn’t trust !"
Nelly reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "Leila, I don’t think Drake wants to doubt you. He’s scared. This whole situation—it’s terrifying for both of you."
"I don’t care if he’s scared," I snapped, pulling my hand away. "I needed him to be on my side, and instead, he’s the one making feel like a monster."
The room fell into silence, my words hanging heavily between us. I knew Nelly was trying to help, but nothing she said would change how I felt. The damage was done. The trust that was supposed to bind and Drake together had been shattered into a million pieces. And I didn’t know if it could ever be repaired.
"I just wish he’d believed ," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I wish, for once, he would have chosen over his doubts."
I heard the door open, and when I looked up, Drake stood there. The mont our eyes t, my anger flared up again. His presence in the room felt suffocating, a reminder of every hurtful word, every mont of doubt.
"Leila—" he began, stepping forward cautiously.
I held up my hand, stopping him. "Don’t," I warned, my voice firm. "Just don’t."
He looked hurt, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not anymore.
"I’ve been through hell these past few days," I continued, my voice sharp. "And instead of being there for , you accused . You really thought I would try to hurt our baby?"
"I was scared, Leila!" he shot back, his voice rising with frustration. "I saw you with the bottle! What was I supposed to think?"
"You were supposed to trust !" I shouted, the anger bubbling over. "You were supposed to believe in ! But no, you always think the worst, don’t you?"
Drake looked like he wanted to argue, but he stayed silent, his jaw clenched.
"I don’t want to see you right now," I said coldly, turning away from him. "Just leave alone."
The room was thick with tension, and I could feel Nelly shifting uncomfortably beside . But I didn’t care. All I cared about was making it clear to Drake that this wasn’t sothing I could easily forgive. He needed to understand the depth of the betrayal I felt, and nothing he said could change that right now.
Without another word, Drake turned and left the room, his footsteps heavy with defeat. I watched him go, my heart aching in ways I couldn’t describe. But I couldn’t soften. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened.
As the door closed behind him, I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening. My baby was safe, but my heart felt like it was breaking all over again. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.
Drake’s POV:
I stood just outside Leila’s hospital room, the door clicking softly behind , but the sound felt deafening in my head. Her words still echoed in my mind, sharp and biting like a thousand daggers aid at my chest.
"You were supposed to trust !"
The accusation, the pain in her voice—everything hit harder than I wanted to admit. But what hurt the most was the unshakable realization that Leila had no idea how much I was hurting too. She wasn’t being fair, not even a little.
I let out a slow breath, my fists clenching at my sides. This wasn’t just about trust. She wasn’t seeing the whole picture—my picture. She was angry, sure, but I had my reasons for reacting the way I did. And right now, she wasn’t even trying to understand that.
I didn’t want to fight with her. Hell, the last thing I wanted was to be at odds with my mate after nearly losing her. But how could she expect to act like everything was fine after what I saw?
She was drinking the wolfbane.
I had walked into that room, and there she was—my mate, the mother of my child—drinking from the very bottle that had nearly killed her and endangered our son. How could I not lose it? How could I just stand there and assu everything was fine?
For days, I’d been torn between terror and rage. Terrified that I’d lose her or the baby, and angry at the thought that she might have done sothing reckless. Reckless enough to risk it all. I thought I’d never see her again, that I’d lose them both, and it killed inside. And then, when I thought I was wrong, that maybe I overreacted, I found her in the very act. How could she expect to be calm?
I leaned against the wall, rubbing a hand down my face, feeling the weight of everything press down on . She’s being unreasonable, I thought bitterly. So quick to call out for not trusting her, but what about ? Wouldn’t she have reacted the sa way if she saw doing sothing that could hurt our family? Wouldn’t she have thought the worst?
Of course she would have.
I could almost imagine it—the roles reversed. If I were the one standing there with a bottle of poison in my hand, what would Leila have done? Would she have just believed instantly, no questions asked? Hell no. She would’ve been furious. She would have accused of every horrible thing under the sun. I knew it. Yet, sohow, I was the bad guy for reacting the way I did?
I let out a harsh sigh. She wasn’t giving any credit, not at all.
"She’s being unfair." The thought rolled around in my mind, bitter and heavy. I tried to push it aside, but it kept coming back. She wanted to be this perfect, trusting mate, but she wasn’t even trying to see things from my side. She wasn’t seeing what I was going through.
I couldn’t get the image of her drinking the wolfbane out of my head. The mont kept replaying, over and over. The bottle in her hand. The look of shock on her face when I caught her. How was I supposed to react? It wasn’t like this was so minor misunderstanding. This was life and death. Our baby’s life was on the line.
And then there was Lily... her words slithering back into my mind.
"Leila’s being unfair to you, Drake. She should put herself in your shoes. She’s the one who got caught."
As much as I hated to admit it, Lily wasn’t entirely wrong. If Leila had really put herself in my shoes, she’d see how hard this was for . She’d see how it felt to walk into that room, seeing the woman you love doing sothing so dangerous. She wasn’t making any effort to understand how I was feeling.
She should try to see things from my side.
I wasn’t the enemy here. I was scared. Scared that I might lose her, scared that our baby might not make it. And yeah, maybe I was angry, but could she bla for that? I walked in on her drinking the very thing that had put our child’s life at risk. That’s not sothing you just get over.
I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. My heart felt heavy, weighed down by all the emotions I’d been carrying since the mont this nightmare started. I felt like I was drowning, torn between wanting to hold her close and never let go and wanting to shake her, to make her understand how much this was killing too.
"She doesn’t get it," I muttered to myself, my voice thick with frustration. "She thinks I just accused her for no reason."
But she didn’t understand what it was like to see your entire world crumble in front of you. To think you were about to lose everything, and then to find the one person you trusted most doing sothing that seed so... reckless. It wasn’t just about trust. It was about fear.
Leila was everything to . Everything. And so was our baby. But now, things felt like they were falling apart. I could feel the distance between us growing, and I didn’t know how to stop it.
"Maybe she’s right," I whispered, staring at the cold hospital floor. "Maybe I should’ve trusted her more."
But then that familiar doubt crept back in, and I couldn’t shake it. How could I have trusted her when I saw what I saw?
I ran a hand through my hair, my chest tightening. I didn’t know how to fix this. Every ti I tried to make sense of what happened, I just ended up back where I started—angry, confused, and hurt.
Leila wanted to believe in her, to trust her, but she wasn’t giving the sa understanding. She wasn’t seeing how much this had affected too. She wasn’t putting herself in my shoes, and that was the part that stung the most.
I glanced toward the door again, knowing she was just beyond it, probably still furious with .
"Why can’t you see I’m hurting too?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, as if saying it aloud would sohow make her understand.
But deep down, I knew that right now, we were both too hurt to find common ground. Too broken by the events that had torn us apart. We were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, each waiting for the other to take the first step, but neither willing to move.
And as I sat there, I realized sothing. Maybe this wasn’t sothing we could fix with a few words. Maybe this was the kind of wound that took ti. And even then, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever really be the sa again.
But for now, all I could do was sit here, waiting for a way to close the gap between us, even though it felt like it was getting wider with every passing mont.
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