That evening, Anette opened her eyes.
Her body was heavy, like waterlogged cotton. A sharp pain rose from her stomach. Anette let out a faint groan and curled up slightly.
At the edge of her half-blurred vision, she glimpsed a dark figure. She blinked her scrunched eyes a few times. Slowly, focus returned. It was Heiner.
Heiner was looking down at her with a face as though he had seen a ghost. Because that look was so unlike him, Anette momentarily mistook it for a dream.
The moment Heiner confirmed she had regained consciousness, he immediately called for a doctor. Before long, a doctor arrived and examined her condition.
He said the gunshot wound wasn't very deep. Compared to the terrible pain she had felt, it was a trivial diagnosis. Anette was puzzled for a moment but soon understood.
Arnold had said she was hypersensitive. That she overreacted to even minor discomfort. Considering those words, she had no doubt overreacted this time as well.
After mentioning a few precautions regarding the gunshot wound, the doctor hesitated briefly, then told Anette that she would experience vaginal bleeding for the next three or four days. Anette thought it was menstruation.
Her periods had always been highly irregular. Sometimes she would skip for months. She assumed this time was the same.
However, the doctor said it was because she had miscarried.
At that, Anette doubted her own ears.
He said the remaining products of conception, including the gestational sac in the uterus, could pass out, so she needn't be surprised; if the bleeding persisted, surgery might be necessary; there could be abdominal pain from uterine contractions...
The doctor's voice reached her as if through a pane of glass. Green veins bulged on the back of Anette's hand as she clutched the blanket tightly.
With a deeply apologetic expression, the doctor informed her that future pregnancies would be difficult. Even then, Anette was half-dazed.
"Then please rest well."
The doctor bowed politely and left the hospital room. Anette sat blankly without even the presence of mind to return the greeting.
She unconsciously brought her hand to her stomach. Beneath her hospital gown, she felt the texture of tightly wrapped bandages.
'Pregnant...? When? Why?'
She had been feeling particularly unwell lately, but she had merely thought it was due to stress; she had never dreamed it could be pregnancy.
A strange chill rose within her. Anette's shoulders trembled lightly. It was a child whose existence she had never known, yet a great sense of loss surged from deep in her womb.
A child that had not come even when she had longed for it so desperately.
"......The fact of the miscarriage has been kept secret from the outside."
Heiner quietly opened his mouth.
"I will take care of everything regarding the articles, so do not concern yourself with that."
Anette slowly turned her head to look at him. His words sounded incredibly strange to her.
'He will take care of it?'
There was no way Heiner would handle things in her favor. He was a man who had merely stood by even when reporters had practically bitten her nape. She was sick to death of newspaper articles.
"The culprit was reportedly arrested at the scene. The motives, whether there is a backer, and so on are under investigation."
"......."
"Currently, civilian firearm use is restricted, and since you were pregnant with a child, attempted murder charges will be applied strictly, resulting in punishment......."
"The child."
Her voice came out terribly hoarse. Anette paid it no mind and continued.
"How many weeks was the child?"
Heiner stared at the area around her stomach for a very brief moment before immediately raising his gaze.
"They say it was eleven weeks."
It almost matched the time her periods had stopped. Anette closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them. Her mind was hazy.
"Anette, the child......."
Heiner, who had hesitated slightly, added heavily.
"......If you want a child, there is also the option of adoption."
"Adoption?"
Anette, who had muttered softly, looked up at him. Heiner's face was as unreadable as ever.
"What are you talking about all of a sudden?"
"I mean, if you truly wish to raise a child."
"No, I don't need one. Rather, it's for the best."
At that, Heiner's brow furrowed slightly. Anette lowered the hand resting on her stomach and said.
"It was a child better off not being born."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It would have been unhappy if born. In a loveless home, it would have had to live carrying my mother's stigma. And I took medication frequently during the pregnancy, so who knows what might have become of it......."
"You wanted a child, did you not?"
"Not anymore. And you didn't want one. Aren't you secretly relieved it turned out this way?"
Anette truly believed that. There was not a single reason Heiner would want a child, and there were countless reasons he would not.
However, Heiner shook his head defensively. He looked like someone suddenly attacked.
"What on earth....... Why would you think that?"
"Then, did you ever even once think you wanted a child with me? No, you didn't."
"Anette, I merely......."
Heiner moved his lips with an expression of not knowing what to say.
"I merely....... never thought about a child. The doctors said you had a constitution that made pregnancy difficult....... and indeed, there had been no news for four years."
"Whatever your true feelings, this is a good thing for you, Heiner."
Anette pulled the corners of her lips up slightly.
"A child with me isn't good politically, either."
Setting aside surface-level issues, it was clearly a fortunate turn of events for Heiner. A child born between him and a woman he hated. He could never have loved it.
The miscarriage was, in many ways, a blessing in disguise.
For Heiner, for the child that would not be born, and for people on the outside.
"But you......."
Heiner's words cut off. His low, resonating voice was tightly locked. After exhaling a slightly trembling breath, he forced out the rest with difficulty.
"You....... wanted a child."
"......So what?"
"Why do you say you don't now? Because you learned of my betrayal? Nothing much has changed between us then and now, anyway."
Heiner's eyes were darkly sunken. Seated in the chair with his head half-bowed, he felt like a massive shadow.
"What does it matter to you whether I want it or not."
"Anette, it's not that I want to discuss whether it matters."
"Then what on earth do you want to discuss?"
"Simply that because you wanted one in the past— that we could consider adoption."
"I don't want one now!"
Anette's voice rose. She poured out words, half-losing her reason.
"I said I don't want one now. I don't need a child. So I said it's for the best! Even though I've said so, why do you keep.......!"
The final words came out almost like a scream. Anette's lips trembled fiercely from her intensified emotions. The atmosphere became as precarious as cracked glass.
Heiner sat frozen stiff like a startled animal holding its breath. A heavy silence fell. In the quiet, only Anette's breath rose and fell unsteadily.
For a while, neither said anything. At the end of the silence, Anette turned her head away from him.
"Please leave. I want to be alone."
Heiner gazed at her without answering. The sound of the clock's second hand coldly filled the hospital room. The tips of Anette's fingers draped over the sheet twitched briefly.
Eventually, he quietly rose from his seat. The sound of heavy footsteps faded. The door opened and closed again.
Anette turned to lie on her side. The cold air pressed down upon her entire body. Even though she was awake with a sound mind, nothing felt real.
Upon late reflection, the pregnancy might have been a selfish desire. If she had truly thought of the child, she should never have let it be born into this world.
The world the born child would greet would be endlessly cold and cruel. Because it would be her child. Because it would carry the Rosenberg bloodline.
Perhaps as it grew, it would have come to resent its mother. She was used to being hated, but if the other party were her own child...... well, what would that feel like?
Anette curled her body up tightly. Even though she was covered with a thick blanket, her body shook. The chill that seemed to push out from deep in her womb was agonizing.
"You wanted a child."
A child?
Yes, she had.
Whether it was due to loneliness, desperation, or some other impure feeling, she herself did not know. Whatever the reason, she had wanted one.
Though she had lost a child she had wanted so much, strangely, tears did not come. She did not feel guilty for failing to protect it, nor did her heart ache as though torn apart.
She was simply so cold.
As though a large hole had opened inside her body, she was cold.
***
While in the hospital, Anette received various additional examinations. She also underwent psychological counseling at the semi-coercive recommendation of the doctor and Heiner.
They seemed concerned about the shock of the miscarriage, but Anette thought the counseling was largely unnecessary. She wasn't particularly shocked. She was simply a little dazed.
"How are you feeling today?"
"Not bad."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I slept soundly."
"That's a relief. Who did you speak with yesterday?"
"The doctor, a nurse, and my husband......."
"May I ask what sort of conversation you had with your husband?"
"I don't remember it very well."
"I heard you had a slight disagreement regarding the adoption matter."
"It wasn't a fight. I was simply....... oversensitive."
"It's merely a difference of opinion. Why do you not wish to adopt, Madam?"
Anette looked down at her two hands, clasped together atop her thighs, for a moment. Her lips moved slowly.
"I......."
There were many reasons. Because she lacked confidence that she could love a child completely. Because a child growing up in such a family was pitiable. Because it was obvious people would gossip that she was desperately struggling not to divorce her husband.
And because adopting in itself was meaningless anyway.
"......It hasn't been long since I miscarried. To think of a new child right away is....... a bit much."
"Ah, I see. I fully understand your feelings, Madam."
Anette lied repeatedly during counseling. She only told the truth regarding superficial well-being; whenever the conversation turned even slightly inward, she fabricated her answers.
Fundamentally, Anette did not trust the confidentiality of the counseling sessions. She expected that even a slightly wrong answer would end up in the gossip columns tomorrow morning.
Even if not, the contents of the counseling would all be delivered to Heiner anyway.
Whether convinced by that answer or not, the counselor did not press further. Anette, fatigued by even light conversation, closed her eyes. Familiar darkness flooded in behind her eyelids.
She just wanted to be alone.