Chapter 69: Chapter Thirty-Three Part One - Orenda

I’m busying myself with dinner, salivating as I breathe in the delicious aroma of my chicken stir fry, when a sudden kick from within my belly has me clutching the countertop and gasping for air. I manage to keep myself upright while I focus on taking slow breaths. Each inhale seems to compound the pressure in my belly, so I do my best to keep my breaths shallow. I lift my shirt and examine the familiar, prominent veins and bruises that have begun forming across my belly once again. I sigh, lowering my shirt, then rub soothing circles on my belly.

“I’d be kicking too if I were cramped in a tiny sack,” I say sympathetically to the baby.

Taking a composing breath, I push back the pain and continue to work on dinner, doing my best to fight off the fatigue spreading throughout my body. I don’t enjoy feeling like this, but compared to everything I endured while Invidia’s prisoner, this level of pain is a glide through the clouds.

“You should let me do that.”

I look back as Aya walks over to me, a deep-set frown marring his features as he takes the frying pan and spatula from my hands and gently nudges me aside.

“I’m more than capable of making us dinner,” I assure him.

He quirks a dubious brow at me, “I beg to differ.”

I huff and cross my arms over my chest, suppressing a wince as the action radiates pain throughout my torso. “I am not an invalid,” I grumble.

“No, but if you keep pushing yourself, you just might be,” he argues, his eyes hooded with concern.

“Aya…” I start to protest.

“Don’t argue with me, Orenda. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the wincing, the bruising, the laboured breathing, and the dizzy spells,” he reels off, the volume of his voice gradually increasing.

I purse my lips to the side, feeling like a naughty child being reprimanded by a parent. Since Aya returned, he’s been extra attentive to me. I had honestly expected the silent treatment, maybe him distancing himself or even directing some resentment my way, but instead, he’s been even more nurturing than he was before. While I appreciate everything he is doing for me, it’s starting to feel a little overbearing. I already had one person controlling my every move, I am in no mood for another.

“I’m pregnant, Aya. What do you expect? No one ever claimed pregnancy was easy,” I point out, keeping my tone casual.

With a sigh, he serves up dinner. “I expect you not to be so dismissive of the fact that you’re getting weaker.” He holds up the spatula in warning, cutting me off before I can speak. “I swear by the cosmos, if you try to deny it, I will smack you with this spatula,” he warns in an exasperated tone.

I pout petulantly. “You wouldn’t hit a pregnant woman,” I challenge, my eyes narrowed.

Without flinching, Aya takes my hand and swats the back of it with the spatula. I let out a shriek, my eyes wide in disbelief as I pull my hand back, rubbing the spot where he just smacked me.

“Don’t test me. I am not afraid to use this spatula on you for your own good,” he warns, brandishing the cooking utensil like a weapon.

“Geez, talk about tough love,” I mumble, nursing my hand.

I’m met with a dramatic eye roll as he carries the plates to the dining table. He comes back and pours two glasses of seltzer water, then carries them over to the dining table. He pulls out one of the chairs and gestures for me to have a seat. I sigh in resignation and walk over, taking my seat at the table. If I weren’t so hungry right now, I would make this more difficult for him.

He places a tender kiss on the top of my head while cupping the back of it. My body immediately tenses, and my breath increases when I feel him touch my hair. He quickly pulls his hand away, his eyes filled with guilt and sadness.

“I’m sorry. I forgot,” he apologises sombrely.

I take a slow, calming breath as I try to get a grip on my nerves. I shake my head reassuringly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

His frown returns as he takes a seat beside me. “Would you please stop saying you’re fine? Almost having a panic attack when your hair is touched is not fine. I promise I’ll try to be more careful,” he vows, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

I squeeze his hand in return. “It’s a force of habit,” I console him. “I’m not upset with you.”

I’m definitely not upset with my brother. I try not to focus on anger, but in these moments, beneath the panic and fear is an ugly, burning amount of rage, and it’s all directed at Invidia. Brushing, treating and doing each other’s hair is something Aya and I have bonded over for centuries. It always made me feel calm, loved and cared for. Invidia took that from me. Something about me that was sacred was just cut away like it was nothing and discarded like trash. Of all the ways Invidia tortured me, none were as terrifying or as deadly as when she rid me of my hair…of my very lifeforce. She had taken so much from me, but it wasn’t enough for her. All that remained were my identity and essram, and in a single moment, she robbed me of my sense of self while almost killing me in the process. She didn’t know she was effectively ending my life, but she hardly wept for me either.

Now, as much as I try to push forward and focus on how glad I am to be free and with those I care about while I wait to bring my baby into this world, there are still moments where the terror and the memories return, all from the simple, harmless action of having my hair touched. I think Azadou is aware of this because he has actively done his best to avoid touching my hair. Aya noticed how I was reacting and asked about it. Since then, he has done his best to respect my space, but I can’t blame him for slipping up. It’s not easy to just turn off a habit you’ve had for thousands of years. I appreciate that he’s trying, I just hate that he has to. I hate that something I treasured has now been tainted. Something that once gave me solace now fills me with dread, and I can’t bear it. It makes me feel like even though I am no longer Invidia’s prisoner, I’ll never truly be rid of her.

I do my best to push the panic aside as I pick up my chopsticks with a trembling hand and start eating. I try to focus on the taste of the food and the action of eating; anything to stop the swirling storm in my mind.

“I appreciate you taking care of me and being so protective and attentive, but you don’t need to coddle me so much,” I say delicately, somewhat changing the topic.

“I’m not trying to coddle you, I’m just worried about you,” he clarifies.

“I’m home and healed,” I say with a warm smile, rubbing his forearm. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“It’s not what you went through that worries me; it’s what you’re going through now that has me so concerned.”

“What do you mean?” I ask in confusion, my brows furrowed.

“You may have all your abilities and essram back, but that is still a celestial being growing inside a human body. You know damn well it’s not being pregnant that’s causing your symptoms, it’s the power you’re growing. The stronger that baby gets, the weaker you’ll become,” he worries, those stress lines around his eyes returning with a vengeance.

I look down at my plate, unable to look at the fear in his eyes. “I am still a supernatural being at my core. I can handle it,” I insist.

I jump when Aya’s hand slams down on the table with great force, making the plates and cutlery clatter in response.

“Damn it, Orenda! Don’t be so cavalier about this!” he exclaims, his breathing becoming laboured as he grows more frustrated.

I look at him with a stunned expression. “Aya, please calm down…” I say gently, my tone soothing as I reach for his arm, but he’s quick to snatch it away.

He closes his eyes and takes deep, meditative breaths before opening his eyes again and giving me his attention. “I understand you have been through a great deal. I can’t begin to imagine the pain and fear you went through, fearing for not just your safety but for the baby’s. I understand that maybe that has you wanting to do everything in your power to ensure this baby is born safe and healthy, but please, please don’t do so at the risk of your own well-being. Do not be one of those mothers who begs everyone around her to save the child instead of her,” he pleads, tears glistening in his eyes.

A thick, suffocating lump forms in my throat as tears well in my own eyes, and I feel my chest tightening painfully.

“What are you saying? Are you saying that if I have to choose between my baby and myself, I should what? Let my baby die?” Each word is spoken with an emotional wobble as I try to get the words out, my heart pounding as I feel overcome by far too many emotions to focus on any single one.

He sighs, slowly shaking his head, “Of course, not,” he answers, but something in his tone tells me that if it came down to such a choice, that’s exactly the one he hopes I would make. “I’m just asking…no, I’m begging you to care about your safety as much as the baby’s. We don’t know how long this pregnancy will be. We don’t even know if a celestial baby can survive a premature birth. What if the baby drains you so much that your body gives out before you can give birth and then we lose you both? Have you even thought about this?” he presses.

I look down, biting down on my lip to keep my tears from falling as I lay a hand on my belly. I don’t want to think about what he’s saying. I’ve lived every single day that I’ve known about this pregnancy, feeling like a failure and being unable to give this baby the best start in life it deserves. I don’t think my heart or mind can bear the thought that even without apatite and a derange hybrid, I’m still too weak to give this baby life.

“Please stop,” I whisper brokenly.

Aya reaches out, taking my hand between his and holding it tight. I hadn’t realised how freezing my hands had gotten until I felt the warmth of his surrounding them.

“I am not saying any of this to hurt you. I just want you to be prepared. I want to help you make sure that you and this baby will be okay,” he comforts, gently kissing my hand.

I sniff, looking up at him and seeing all his fear, love, and compassion reflected in his eyes. It’s strange how being so cared for can be both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

“Thank you for caring about us so much,” I say faint but graciously.

He gives my hand another kiss then gently lets it go. He takes a sip of his drink, calms himself once again, and takes a bite of his stir fry.

“Have you thought about restoring your bond with Azadou?” he casually asks between bites.

My eyebrows disappear into my hairlines as I stare at him wide-eyed. “Excuse me?” I sputter.

“It’s a simple question,” he states nonchalantly.

“It’s really not. No, I haven’t thought about restoring our bond and I’m shocked you of all people are the one bringing it up,” I gape at him.

“Why?”

“I can think of several reasons but the biggest two would be that you’re not a fan of animais and you hate Azadou,” I note in bafflement.

“I may not be a fan, but I’m not against their entire existence and even I can see the strides and effort Azadou is making. He did help me find and save you after all…which is the least he could do after everything he put you through,” he asides tartly.

“I’m not buying it,” I state suspiciously. “I know you, Aya. You believe in making people work for it. You’d be the first to tell me to put him through his paces, not tell me to just restore and seal a cosmic bond like it was no big deal.”

“Fine. While I acknowledge the changes in him and his efforts to be a better person, I really don’t care. I do, however, care that at the end of the day he is still your animai and if that bond is restored and completed that would make you a Demi-Goddess by default and if you’re a Demi-Goddess then that would make you more than strong enough to carry this baby,” he declares bluntly.

I blink rapidly in bewilderment. Has he lost his God’s damn mind?!

“You can’t be serious,” I murmur in disbelief.

“I am deadly serious,” he affirms, unperturbed by my shocked state, his eyes unblinking as he stares me down.

“Even if I did want to restore my bond with Azadou, there is no way in hell I am doing it while I’m pregnant. Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I shriek.

“Why the hell not?” he snaps in frustration, looking like he’s holding on to the last shred of his sanity.

“Because we know so little about celestial pregnancies! You said so yourself!” I shout, my head starting to spin while I do my best to ignore it. “Completing a bond with a God wouldn’t just be a huge magical change, it would be an extreme biological one too. I am not about to go through another more drastic change to my body while a have a life developing inside me. We have no idea what that could do to them. We don’t know if it would hurt them or help them, and I’m not willing to take that risk. If I choose to restore my bond with Azadou, I would only do so after the baby is born and not a minute sooner. I am not bending on this matter. I am willing to talk to every God and find the best course of action to ensure we both get through this okay, but what you’re suggesting is not an option. Period,” I assert, my tone leaving no room for argument.

With a deep, frustrated sigh, Aya scrubs his hands down his face, the action only appearing to age him further. I’ve upset him enough lately and I know he’s going through a lot right now – almost as much as me – but on this, I will not negotiate.

“I’m convinced it was your stubbornness that kept you alive throughout your ordeal,” he grumbles tiredly.

“I’m glad to know it’s good for something,” I quip.

“You promise you’ll look into ways to deliver safely?” he questions with pleading eyes.

I nod, placing my hand on his. “I give you my word,” I vow.

He holds my hand and takes a deep breath. “Fine,” he breathes out.

“This has been a very emotional and stressful dinner,” I point out.

He snorts, “You can say that again.”

We give each other a gentle smile and resume eating. It’s clear there is still a great deal weighing on us both, but at least the tension between us has lifted a little. Aya’s not wrong about me getting weaker, so the last thing I want is to be at odds with him right now.