Avenging Luna
Chapter 93: The Weight of the Bond

Chapter 93: The Weight of the Bond

Leila’s POV:

I woke again, hours later, to the sterile smell of the hospital room and the constant beeping of machines. This time, my mind was clearer, though my body still felt like it had been through hell and back. The physical pain was bearable, but the emotional weight was suffocating. I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby—our baby—alone, fragile, fighting for survival without me.

I needed to see him.

I pressed the call button next to my bed, the small click filling the silence. A nurse entered quietly, a kind smile on her face.

"How are you feeling, Leila?" she asked gently.

"I need to see my baby," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. The nurse hesitated for a moment but nodded.

"I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready. We’ll get you set up to see him soon."

I closed my eyes, the exhaustion pulling at me again. I didn’t want to sleep, not now, not when my baby was fighting for his life. But my body was weak, drained from the wolfbane and the surgery.

As I waited, my thoughts drifted to Drake. He hadn’t been here when I woke up. Had he gone to see the baby? Was he angry with me? I could still see the fury in his eyes when he’d caught me holding that stupid bottle of wolfbane. He probably thought I was lying, that I had tried to harm our child. The guilt of that moment crashed over me like a wave. How could I have been so careless?

I was lost in thought when the door creaked open. I looked up, and there he was—Drake, standing in the doorway, his face a mix of exhaustion and sorrow

I froze when I saw him standing there, his silhouette framed by the harsh fluorescent light spilling in from the hallway. He looked different—like the weight of the world had been dropped on his shoulders. His eyes were tired, heavy with sleeplessness, but there was something else there too. Guilt? Anger? Maybe both.

For a second, I thought about calling out to him. But then it hit me again—his face when he saw me with that bottle. The disbelief, the anger, the betrayal. He thought I had done it. He thought I had tried to hurt our baby.

That thought churned in my chest, turning my sorrow into something else. Something sharper. Anger. How could he believe I would ever do something like that? How could he think so little of me—of us?

I clenched my fists, turning away from him as much as I could in the hospital bed. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say, whatever judgment or accusation he was about to throw at me. Not now.

"Leila," his voice broke the silence, quiet but full of emotion.

I stayed silent, keeping my eyes focused on the wall in front of me, refusing to acknowledge him. I couldn’t face him. Not after everything.

"Leila, please... talk to me," he said again, closer now. I could hear his footsteps approaching my bed, the soft sound of his shoes against the tile floor.

But I wasn’t ready. Not after what he thought of me. The anger surged again, mixed with the overwhelming pain of everything that had happened.

"Go away," I whispered, my voice tight with the emotion I was barely holding back. My throat ached from it, my chest felt hollow, and the anger burned hotter with every second that passed.

"Leila..." Drake’s voice wavered. He reached for my hand, but I pulled away before he could touch me.

"Don’t," I said more firmly this time, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "Just don’t."

I could hear him sigh, could feel the weight of his presence lingering beside me, but I kept my back to him. How could he stand there now, pretending like everything was okay? Like he hadn’t just accused me of trying to kill our baby?

"Leila, I didn’t—"

"You didn’t what?" I cut him off, my voice rising despite my exhaustion. "You didn’t think I’d hurt our baby? You didn’t believe I would actually do that?" I turned to face him then, my anger boiling over as I met his gaze. His face was pained, but I didn’t care. "Because you sure acted like you did."

He flinched, and I almost felt bad. Almost.

"I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t know what to think. I saw that bottle, I—"

"I told you I didn’t take it!" I snapped, feeling the tears sting my eyes. "I told you! And you still didn’t believe me. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain." The betrayal I had tried to push down burst to the surface. "You thought I wanted to hurt our baby, Drake. How could you? How could you think that after everything?"

He looked down, guilt heavy on his face, but it did nothing to ease the knot of anger in my chest.

"I didn’t know what to believe," he said softly. "You’ve been sick for days, Leila. I thought—" He paused, running a hand through his hair. "I thought maybe you had changed your mind, that you didn’t want the baby anymore."

"That’s what you think of me?" I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "That I could just decide I didn’t want our baby and poison myself? You think so little of me, Drake."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance. I was shaking now, the pain in my chest growing unbearable. "I was sick, yes, but I didn’t do this. I didn’t take that wolfbane! You should’ve trusted me. I’m your mate, Drake. How could you think I’d hurt our child?"

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out as if to comfort me, but I recoiled, pulling the hospital blanket tighter around me like it could shield me from the pain. "I couldn’t feel him, Drake," I whispered, my voice breaking. "When I woke up, I couldn’t feel the baby. Do you know what that’s like? I thought—I thought I’d lost him."

Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I didn’t want him to see how broken I felt. I didn’t want to show him that part of me, not after what he’d done.

"I came back," he said softly, his voice laced with regret. "I came back because I realized I was wrong. I didn’t want to leave things like that. I was scared, Leila. Scared of losing you, scared of losing the baby. When I saw you with that bottle, I panicked. I thought—"

"You thought I was trying to kill our child," I finished bitterly, not letting him off the hook. "That’s what you thought."

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. He looked down, unable to meet my gaze, and I felt the sting of his doubt like a knife twisting in my heart. I wanted him to fight for us, to tell me he trusted me, but instead, he stood there, looking as defeated as I felt.

I wiped the tears angrily from my face. "I needed you, Drake. I needed you to believe in me. But instead, you left."

He flinched again, guilt flashing across his face. "I made a mistake," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "But I’m here now, Leila. I’m not leaving again."

I looked away, my heart torn between wanting to believe him and the deep hurt his doubt had caused. "You should’ve been here from the beginning," I whispered. "But now... I don’t know if that’s enough."

Drake’s breath hitched, and I could feel the weight of my words settling between us. It wasn’t just about the wolfbane or the baby. It was about trust, about the bond we were supposed to have but had somehow lost in the chaos.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so sorry, Leila. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear."

But I didn’t respond. I didn’t know if sorry was enough anymore. I didn’t know if we could ever be the same after this.

All I knew was that I needed to see my baby.

"I want to see him," I said quietly, my voice barely audible. "I need to see our son."

Drake nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "I’ll take you to him."

I stayed silent as he moved to help me out of bed, my body still weak from the surgery. I didn’t resist his touch, but I didn’t lean into it either. As he guided me toward the door, my heart ached with the uncertainty of what lay ahead—for our baby, for us.

Would we survive this? Could we ever find our way back to each other after everything that had happened?

I wasn’t sure. But as I took my first shaky steps toward the neonatal unit, one thing was clear: nothing would ever be the same again.