Where is she?

Where is she? The question whispers through Isabella’s mind as her hand drifts to her stomach. A tear rolls down her cheek as the loss of her unborn child reverberates through her.

“Please Isabella,’ her husband begs, his shirt ruffled and hair a mess as he puts down his satchel, “we’ve been through this.”

“I was pregnant Raj”, she says, her declaration opening a flood gate of emotions. He moves towards her, hugging her, his chin resting atop her head.

“I know you think so, but it’s not true. One day, when the time is right, but I need my Bell back”, he sobs, pulling her in tighter.

She felt his chest shake against her, his fear and sadness mirroring her own. Unable to see him in so much pain, she gives a slight nod. They couldn’t be all wrong could they? Her family? Her friends?

Months pass, and slowly the pain dims, the tears become less frequent and it no longer hurts when she smiles.

Isabella was at the market when it happens. She heard the scream. And then the sobbing, “my baby! Where’s my baby!”

Her hands begin to tremble as she turns and watches a woman, close to her age, clutch at her stomach. “Where’s my child?” The woman begs, as if one of the strangers around her could return her baby to her.

Isabella watch’s silently as the ambulance arrives, taking her away.

That night she cries. She cries so much Raj can’t bare to be in the same room as her.

The next day Isabella goes to the hospital, finding the woman, Seema, curled on a hospital bed. She sits besides her and waits for her to wake.

“Where’s my child?” She asks her, her voice broken as tears wet her pillow.

“I don’t know”, Isabella replies, taking the woman’s hand in hers, “but whoever took your baby, took mine, and I intend to find them”.