Inside the sterile, cold operating room, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a clinical glow on everything in sight. The surgical instruments clinked softly, a reminder of the procedure about to take place.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." Lying on the operating table, Rachel Harris nodded, her skin pale with nerves. Her legs, exposed and trembling, rested on the stirrups at the foot of the table.

"There’s no need to worry, it’ll only take about ten minutes," a nurse reassured her, her voice gentle and practiced.

"This is a routine procedure for us. We do dozens of these every week," another doctor added, trying to comfort Rachel as he looked at her delicate features and her downcast expression. "It’s just unfortunate. So many young women these days don’t take proper precautions. They end up here alone, keeping secrets from everyone."

Rachel could feel his eyes on her. He couldn’t have known how wrong he was. Her situation wasn’t like the others—she wasn’t a naive teenager or someone who had slipped into an unplanned mistake. But in the sterile world of this clinic, with its cold efficiency, the doctors and nurses had already decided she was just another young woman trying to cover her tracks.

She turned her face away, not wanting to explain, not wanting to talk anymore. She wasn’t a rebellious teen; she was a married woman, a grown woman with responsibilities.

Yet, her marriage to Thomas Harris felt more like a business arrangement than a union of love. They had been married for six months, but in that time, their lives had barely intersected. Thomas was often away on business, leaving Rachel to her own devices in their suburban home. They had agreed on a 'hands-off' arrangement, and for a while, that worked. But everything had changed one drunken night when he had come home, angry and unpredictable, and forced himself on her without warning.

Rachel had taken the emergency contraception pill the next morning, thinking that would be the end of it. But when her period was late by a month and a half, she began to worry. A home pregnancy test confirmed her fears—she was pregnant.

She wasn’t ready. Thomas had never been a good husband, let alone a good father. Their marriage had been built on indifference, not affection. If she carried this pregnancy to term, the child would grow up in a house full of coldness and neglect. It would be an unhappy life, and she couldn’t let that happen.

To make sure she wasn’t overthinking, Rachel called Thomas to discuss her decision before the procedure.

"What is it?" he answered the phone with his usual, emotionless tone.

"I need to talk to you about something important..." she began, her voice faltering.

"You don’t need my permission. Just do whatever you want," Thomas interrupted, his voice cold. "I’ve got a meeting. Later."

The line clicked dead, leaving Rachel staring at the phone in her hand. He hadn’t even paused for a second. She couldn’t help but feel the weight of her loneliness. She hadn’t called him for anything in months, and now, when she needed him most, he couldn’t even spare a minute.

Her doubts vanished, replaced by a quiet resolve. If he couldn’t be bothered to care, then she would make the decision on her own.

The procedure itself was supposed to be quick and painless, but the cold reality of the moment was far from comforting. As the medical instruments entered her body, Rachel felt a sharp pain, both physical and emotional, unlike anything she had ever known. Each passing second stretched on endlessly, and she felt her world unraveling.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor spoke.

"All done. The procedure is complete."

"Do you want to see it?"

Rachel swallowed hard, trying to hold back her tears. The question seemed so surreal. She had just made the hardest decision of her life, and now this—she could not bring herself to face what had been lost.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don’t want to see it."

It wouldn’t change anything. She had already failed this child, in ways words couldn’t express.

The nurse smiled softly. "You’ll be fine. Just rest here for about an hour. If everything’s okay, you’ll be free to go."

Rachel lay back in the recovery room, her body still aching from the procedure. She couldn’t sleep. The silence was deafening as she stared up at the plain white ceiling. There was a strange emptiness in her chest, like a deep, empty hole where something should have been. She could still feel the faint, lingering pain in her abdomen—a reminder of what had been, and what was no more.