The Biker's quintuplets Mum

Amelia

Our argument escalated in the car as we drove home from a party, with Declan’s anger and insult pouring out. "You think the world revolves around you, but it doesn't." He sneered at me, his words dripping with venom.

"Have you seen yourself? Look at the other women you accused me of ogling. You are fat, ugly, and bloated."

I felt a stinging pain in my chest as he hurled those hurtful words at me. "Declan, my body changed because I gave birth to our daughter. That doesn't give you the right to flirt with other women, especially when they look uncomfortable around you," I snapped, trying to shield Amy's ears from the argument. She was too young to witness this, but she had grown used to our yelling matches.

Amy was sitting beside me in the backseat, and Declan behind the wheel. As he continued to berate me, his eyes suddenly drifted away from the road, locking onto a woman standing on the sidewalk.

I thought he had already forgotten about our conversation, then he responded. “You are the one who is insecure," he shot back. "If you had aborted the pregnancy like I asked, you wouldn't look like a worn out woman feeling threatened by younger women. You look like a woman in her fifties.”

I felt a wave of pain wash over me. "You deserve to rot in hell, Declan. You deserve the deepest part of hell," I repeated, my voice shaking with rage and hurt.

How could he say such vile things with our daughter right there? He didn't even flinch, his gaze drifting back to a woman on the sidewalk.

In that same moment, a truck horn blared, and before Declan could refocus on the road, the vehicle swerved violently. A massive truck slammed into us, and our car spun out of control, crashing into another vehicle. Instinctively, I wrapped my body around Amy's, shielding her from the impact. The world seemed to slow down as glasses shattered. I remembered Declan's desperate cry, his hand forcing the door open, and then everything went black.

I woke up to the beeping sound of a machine. I looked around slowly and realized I was in a hospital. The sheets, the bright lights, the smell, everything felt unfamiliar. The last thing I remembered was Declan and I arguing in the car on our way back from a friend’s party. He had been openly flirting with a lady right in front of me at the party, and that led to the fight. After that, everything went blank.

The door opened, and a doctor walked in, followed by a nurse.

“You are awake,” he said. The tag on his coat read Dr. Reuben. He gave me a small, relieved smile.

This is not our regular family hospital because he doesn’t look familiar. My throat felt dry, but I managed to speak. “How long have I been out?”

“One week,” he replied, checking the monitor beside me. “You have been