the man I’m truly, madly in love with. I’m pregnant with his child. I’m going to be a mother.
Mrs Guinevere Weston.
Life is so perfect.
With a happy sigh, I stretch out my arms and legs. The wonderful relaxing feeling is interrupted when I feel a dampness with my toes, near Caleb’s knees. Slowly I sit up. I instinctively know something is wrong. The bed feels cooler and there is a sweet sickly smell that hits the back of my throat and aggravates the nausea I already feel.
Caleb’s still, sleeping form lies next to me. Looking at him, he looks peaceful, but I look more closely and my throat catches. I can’t see his chest rise and fall. No wait, there’s a twitch in his arm. I let out a sigh. Of course I’m being silly. I touch his arm to wake him and tell him about my stupid thoughts.
When I touch his hand, it’s cold, not like ice, but cold like we have been for a walk down the beach in winter and need to wrap our hands round a cup of hot chocolate to warm them. His skin has an almost pearlescent look to it. It’s too pale.
“Caleb,” I whisper and push myself off his chest. “Caleb?” I notice his arms by his sides rather than holding me, which is odd for him. “Caleb,” I say louder this time and push his chest.
He doesn’t stir. That’s odd. Maybe he’s still sick.
“Caleb!” I say even louder and tap his cheek. His head rolls to the side, but he doesn’t make a noise. My heart hits my ribs and sharp tingles spread through my chest. “Caleb!” I shake him violently this time and switch on the lamp.
“No.” I whisper and place my hand an inch from his mouth, staring at his chest. This isn’t happening. He’s not… “CALEB!” I grab both of his shoulders and shake him vigorously. “CALEB! Please. This isn’t funny!” His eyelids don’t even flutter.
Oh my god.
He’s not breathing.
I place my trembling fingers to his neck.
“NO!” I scream, my eyes burning and my lungs constricting. “Baby, please, wake up now.” No. No. No.
I kick the blanket from the bed and cry out at the mess on the sheets. A choked sob sticks in my throat and my body trembles as I try to comprehend what I’m seeing.
I pull at his body. He still feels warm but he is a dead weight in my arms. No this can’t be happening.
‘You can’t be dead. We have to get married today. You have to see your child be born. I’m going to be all alone.’
“Wake up!” I scream, ignoring the pain it brings to my throat.
Ambulance. I need to phone an ambulance, but I’m torn. I don’t want to leave him but I need to get my phone from my bag. My legs feel leaden as I stumble downstairs. It’s going to be fine. They will help him. They can bring him back. I dial the number, my fingers quick and clumsy on the small buttons.
“He’s not breathing! I can’t wake him,” I sob to the woman on the phone, but she isn’t understanding me. She tells me to stop, take a breath, think about what I want to say and repeat it slowly.
“What happened?” She asks me. What do I tell her? I tell her whatever it is I’m seeing, my address and his name. She’s still talking but I can’t hear her. I need to do something.
He’s… no… he’s not dead. “You’re not dead! Wake up. Wake up right now. This isn’t funny.” I breathe into his mouth while pinching his nose. I throw my phone and start doing chest compressions. Come on, baby. Come on. “Please, Caleb. Please.”
His lifeless face doesn’t twitch and my heart shatters. He’s not dead. He’ll wake up and start laughing.
Minutes pass before I hear sirens and rush down stairs to open the door. I don’t wait for them to come in before I run back upstairs and continue forcing him to breathe.
I peel open an eyelid and a glassy lifeless pupil stares back at me, the iris bigger than I’ve ever seen it. My lips tremble and a cry escapes me.
My body burns. “Please, Caleb, don’t leave me!”
The paramedics come inside and I’m pulled gently out of the way. I watch them work on him and I’m escorted to the side as they begin CPR and defibrillation. I look on helplessly as they pass electric currents through his heart. They work for what seems