Farewell to Love: The CEO's Desperate Chase novel Chapter 41

When Emilia opened her eyes, daylight was already streaming in.

The morning sun filtered through the window at an angle, painting the room with a soft, pale gold.

"Emily, you're awake!" Joyce's voice broke the silence.

Still groggy, Emilia blinked at Joyce and Christian, who hovered nearby, their faces clouded with worry. As the aching in her body flared up, the memories rushed back—blinding pain, the vivid red of her own blood.

"I—" Emilia managed to breathe out a single word before her voice caught.

The pain, the memory of collapsing, the sense of dread swirling inside her—it all pointed to the truth she didn't want to face.

"Emily…" Joyce carefully helped her sit up, her voice trembling with grief. "The baby's gone."

Emilia opened her mouth, searching for words, but none came. She stared blankly ahead, her lips closing wordlessly.

Half a minute passed in heavy silence. Finally, she lowered her head and murmured, "Okay."

Her answer was calm. No tears, no anger, not even sadness.

Just a quiet, empty acceptance.

Joyce and Christian exchanged a troubled glance. After a moment, Christian stepped forward and spoke gently, as if afraid that anything louder might shatter her completely. "Emilia, you need to rest for a while. Your health comes first."

"You were lucky not to break any bones when you fell down the stairs, but you still have soft tissue injuries. There's a mild concussion, and now…the miscarriage…"

His voice trailed off, turning even softer, as though he feared she might slip away if he pressed too hard.

"That music show you were scheduled for—I've already told them you won't be able to make it. Later—"

"I'm going." Emilia cut him off, her voice flat and unwavering.

Beneath the blanket, her hands clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms, drawing blood.

The pain grounded her, made everything feel real.

Sitting propped against the headboard, her face revealed nothing—no joy, no grief, just that same hollow calm. She lifted her gaze to Christian. "I'm fine," she insisted.

"But the first live show is in just three days." Christian sounded anxious. "Your body—"

"I'm fine," she repeated, her tone as even as before.

But under the blanket, her fists trembled.

Christian hesitated, unsure how to respond.

Emilia turned to Joyce. "Joyce, I'm a little hungry. Could you get me something to eat?"

Joyce opened her mouth, her eyes filling with sorrow, but couldn't find the words.

Emilia smiled at them both, her voice wavering with a hint of pleading. "Would that be alright?"

Joyce and Christian exchanged a final glance. They understood, and quietly agreed.

They left the room, closing the door behind them.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Emilia's forced smile faded. The corners of her mouth, which she'd willed upward, finally relaxed.

Even though it was April, she felt cold. Drawing the covers up, she curled beneath them, burying her head.

The chill seeped into her bones—so cold, so unbearably cold.

She bit down on her fist, hard enough to break the skin, and wept in silence, unable to hold herself together any longer.