?Chapter 551:


    He nodded. It had indeed been a boy. In my dreams, the child had always been a boy.


    “Please take me to him. I need to see my child onest time,” I pleaded.


    Alice took my hand and softly said, “It’s better if you wait until you’re stronger, Makenna. Seeing the child right now may not be good for your health.”


    “No, I want to see him now,” I insisted stubbornly, shaking my head.


    Unable to dissuade me, they gave in. A nurse was called to fetch a wheelchair, and they pushed me toward the hospital’s mortuary.


    Makenna’s POV:


    At the entrance of the morgue, I suddenly found myself unable to go inside. My body stiffened, and I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair tightly.


    “I’m terrified of seeing my baby’s lifeless face. But I don’t want him to be alone,” I wept, covering my face.


    “Seeing the child would only add to your pain. I think you should take a few days to calm down first before doing that,” Dominic said, taking my hand.


    “No! I won’t be a coward. I will go see him. Otherwise, he might not think I’m worthy to be his mother,” I said firmly.


    “You’re weak now, Makenna. Seeing the child may add to your stress and cause you to fall apart,” Bryan argued, fatigue etched across his face.


    “No. He’ll feel lonely if I leave him here all alone. I have to be with him,” I said amidst tears.


    Bryan seemed at a loss for words. In his eyes, I saw pain no less than mine. This child was also his. He was suffering too.


    “Let’s go in, Evie,” I said to Evie, who was pushing my wheelchair.


    There was a moment’s hesitation before she finally wheeled me into the morgue. The cold air bit into my skin, sending a shiver through me.


    Discover more on gα?ησν????s??ο?? (uso de “?” y “ο” griega)


    As we moved forward, I saw an ice coffin. My heart began to pound faster with each passing second as we drew closer.


    Finally, we reached it, and with trembling hands, Evie slowly lifted the white cloth.


    When the cloth was removed, I saw a baby lying in the ice coffin. His tiny face was devoid of color, his lips tinged blue, his eyes closed as though in a deep sleep.


    My child…


    Unable to hold back my tears any longer, I burst into sobs. He was so young, yet already gone from this world. Why did fate have to treat me so cruelly?


    I leaned over the ice coffin, sobbing uncontrobly. With trembling hands, I reached out to touch my child’s face but quickly drew back, as though afraid I might “wake” him.


    Why? Why couldn’t I protect my own child? Why hadn’t I died in his stead?


    I wept over the ice coffin, despising my own existence. Suddenly, my vision blurred, and my body lost all strength. Before I knew it, darkness consumed me, and I fainted.


    In the days that followed, I was like a zombie, returning to the morgue again and again just to be near my child. The cold, deathly silence of that ce didn’t scare me. I only wanted to spend time with my baby until the day of his burial.


    Finally, the burial day arrived. The atmosphere in the cemetery was heavy with grief and sorrow. The priest, dressed in a ck robe, recited words of prayer for my baby.


    Bryan and I watched as our childy in the small coffin prepared for him. Then he was lowered into the freshly dug grave.


    .


    .


    .