She lost her child

I hadn't spoken to Arina all day, caught up in the demands of work. Now, trying to call her, there was no answer.

"What's wrong? Did she fall asleep?" I muttered to myself, frustration creeping in. I dialed her number again, hoping for a response.

"Damn it," I cursed softly under my breath as the call went unanswered once more. Concern gnawed at me. Arina knew I would be away, and we always kept in touch, especially with Aurora at home.

Deciding to take action, I dialed our neighbor's number. Mrs. Peterson, an elderly woman who lived next door, answered after a few rings. Her gentle voice came through the line.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Rosalie," I greeted, my voice trembling with worry.

Mrs. Rosalie, a kind elderly neighbor, lived next door with her teenage granddaughter. Despite our limited interactions, I knew I could count on her in times of need.

"Yes, Zoe. What's wrong?" Her voice was calm but tinged with concern.

"Mam, I'm sorry to bother you at this time. Actually, Arina isn't picking up my phone," I explained urgently. "I know I'm disturbing you, but I just want to see my baby once."

Mrs. Rosalie paused, the weight of my words sinking in. "Okay, boy. I'm trying," she finally replied.

Relief washed over me momentarily as she promised to check on Arina and Aurora, our three-month-old daughter. I hung up and tried to wait patiently, but anxiety gnawed at me throughout the night. Sleep eluded me, my thoughts consumed by the unanswered phone calls and the dread of what might be wrong.

The sun's rays filtering through the curtains roused me from my restless slumber. My heart raced as I reached for my phone, blinking away the sleep to see 34 missed calls from Mrs. Rosalie. Panic surged through me, and I immediately dialed her number.

"Mrs. Rosalie, I'm so sorry," I began, my voice shaking. "Is everything okay?"

There was a long silence on the other end, punctuated by Mrs. Rosalie's hesitant breaths. "Son, your daughter is no more," she said softly, her words cutting through the air like a knife.

"No... No, that can't be true," I protested, my mind struggling to comprehend the devastating news.

After a while,

Everyone was standing around the corpse, their faces etched with horror and disbelief. Mrs. Rosalie had called the police, who were now lifting Aurora's tiny body from the water. My heart shattered at the sight, and I could hardly breathe as I ran to her. I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face.

"My baby," I sobbed, covering my eyes with my hands. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that tore through my very soul.

Mrs. Rosalie knelt beside me, her voice gentle but firm. "Zoe, I'm so sorry. Only God can help you now."

Her words made no sense to me. I couldn't grasp their meaning through the haze of grief. I looked around frantically, searching for Arina. "Aunt, where is Arina?"

Mrs. Rosalie's face tightened, her eyes filled with a stern resolve. She didn't answer, but I heard her maid speaking to the police, her voice trembling with fear. 

Last night she saw an ugly old woman on the bank of this pond. When she called out to that woman, she saw her mouth was full of blood, and she rushed towards her. After that, she fainted there and couldn't remember anything.

An inspector scoffed, "What nonsense?"

The maid, Zara, replied, "I'm saying the truth! Last night I saw a witch. Her eyes were white."

"Zara, stop it," Mrs. Rosalie suddenly shouted, silencing her with a sharp glare.

My mind was reeling. What was going on? And where was Arina?

"Mrs. Rosalie, where is Arina? Is she okay?" I asked, worry tightening my chest. Arina loved our child more than anything. Mrs. Rosalie's casual reply caught me off guard.

"Don't worry, I think she is absolutely fine."

How could she say that? "Mrs. Rosalie, what are you saying?"

"Boy, I called her many times, but she didn't open her door nor answer me," she uttered.

I knew something was wrong. I turned to head upstairs, determined to find Arina, but Mrs. Rosalie grabbed my hand. 

"I have something to say."

I pulled my hand away gently but firmly. "No, I need to see my wife."

I answered Mrs. Rosalie, "Aunt, I will listen, but I have to go upstairs," and then knocked on the door.

"Arina, open the door," I called out her name. I knew she was utterly broken. It was our first child, and she never let our baby out of her sight.

"Arina, please," I pleaded. After what felt like an eternity, she finally opened the door. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Seeing her like that, I couldn't hold back my emotions. I pulled her into my arms and tried to comfort her. "Arina, please forgive me. I shouldn't have left you two alone."

She remained silent, her expression vacant.

"If I had answered the phone on time, this wouldn't have happened. Please, say something, Arina."

After a long pause, she looked at me and asked, "Are they gone?"

I shook my head, "No, but they will be soon. Let's go downstairs."

"No," Arina replied, her voice sounding strangely heavy. I thought it might be from crying so much. I asked her, "Why?"

"I don't want to see my baby," she answered fiercely and then slammed the door in my face. It was the first time she had ever treated me like that. Stunned, I stood there for a moment, trying to process her reaction. Then, I turned and slowly descended the stairs.

Downstairs, the scene was somber. The police were still investigating, and the crowd of onlookers had grown. 

I looked around at everyone; they were all looking at me. When they realized I couldn't bring Arina down, they started whispering among themselves. Some of them were feeling bad for Arina and saying, "It was heartbreaking that she lost her first child."

"Yeah, she was in shock; that's why she didn't come down even once."