Clara

My ragged breathing and the beeping of the machine to which I was hooked were the only sounds I could hear as I stared at the white ceiling. My thoughts were racing, but my unconscious mind relentlessly focused on Damon and our child. With shaky hands, I reached out to caress my stomach. A sigh of relief escaped me when it moved against my touch, as if reassuring me of its presence.

"Oh, my baby, Mummy loves you so much," I murmured, tears streaming down my face. Were we okay? Had we survived everything Sebastian had put us through?

Just then, the hospital door opened, and Delilah entered, followed by others.

"Oh my God, Clara," she whispered, walking to the bed and hugging me. "I'm so glad you're okay." I smiled.

"How's Damon?" I asked. Immediately, I sensed her tension.

She slowly pulled away, and I frowned at her expression before turning to the others. "Where's Damon? Did he?" I couldn't finish, my heart feeling like it was tearing apart.

"No, darling, he's not dead. He's in a coma; the doctors can't say when he'll wake up, but he will. He would never leave you," Damon's mother said, walking to the bed, sitting beside me, and taking my hand.

"He has to be okay. I can't survive if"

"Shh, he will be okay. Please don't stress yourself. You need to rest and look after yourself," she murmured. I frowned. She didn't mention the baby.

"What about the baby? Is it okay?" I asked, tears welling in my eyes.

"Of course it is. He or she is a fighter, just like you and Damon," she replied with a smile, but her eyes told a different story. Something was wrong.

"You're not telling me the truth. What's going on?" I asked, glancing at them all. They wore solemn expressions. "Damnit, she deserves to know and make a choice for herself," Luca suddenly exclaimed, exasperated.

"The choice has already been made, so shut up," my uncle snapped, glaring at Luca. Luca glared back, even more intensely.

"How do you think she'll feel knowing you want to kill her child?" Luca shouted. A gasp escaped my lips before I could process his words. [Remove the copyright notice; it's inappropriate here.]

"What does he mean?" I whispered. My uncle sighed.

"Ladybug, he doesn't"

"What the hell is he talking about?!" My voice rose as I glared at him. His face softened, and he sighed.

"The doctor" Delilah began, giving me a sympathetic look. "He said your baby is a fighter, but the more it fights to survive, the more you're at risk. You and the baby can't both survive. You you have to choose. It's either you or your baby." A sharp pain shot through me.

"There's no choice. You have to stay alive, Clara. I know it's a tough decision, but I won't let you die," my uncle said. Luca and Delilah immediately protested his insensitivity, and an argument erupted, but I tuned them out.

All I heard was the pounding of my heart. Why? Why was the world so cruel to us? Why?!

With shaky hands, I caressed my stomach, letting tears flow freely. I couldn't let this baby die. I wouldn't let our baby die. This child was a product of our love, and I'd rather die than let it die.

"I'm keeping the child," I said softly, but they all heard. The room fell silent before Delilah spoke. "But Clara, the doctor"

"The doctor doesn't know shit. My baby and I will survive. We'll fight for each other. I'm keeping my child," I declared. My uncle frowned.

"You'll die"

"Then so be it! This is my choice, and you will all respect it!" They fell silent.

"I won't let you die, Clara," my uncle said, the pain in his voice evident. Fear and pain were visible on all their faces, but only my uncle voiced his dissent, knowing what I had endured losing our first child. I couldn't survive that again, especially with Damon in a coma.

"I won't die. Like you said, my baby is a fighter, and so am I. We won't let each other die," I said. Their eyes widened.

"We?" Damon's mother asked, her voice cracking. Then it dawned on me. Damon and I hadn't told them about the twins. We'd instructed the doctors not to tell anyone.

"Damon and I are having twins," I whispered. His mother burst into tears, wrapping her arms around me.

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful, but that makes things worse. The chance of you surviving" She trailed off, crying on my shoulder. We all knew what she meant.

I'd thought about the day I'd tell them, imagining their joy, like Aunt Amelia's happiness, but I never could have imagined this.

"We'll survive."