CHAPTER 310

CHAPTER 310
ALINA

Five days.

Five entire days of bed rest, and I was officially losing my mind.

I stared at the ceiling of our bedroom like it had personally offended me.

The same ceiling. The same four walls. The same soft pillows that had started to feel like a prison.

Outside the window, the world had the audacity to continue functioning without me.

People were walking. Cars were passing. Somewhere, I was sure, someone was probably doing something exciting.

Meanwhile, I was horizontal. Completely horizontal.

Under strict doctor's orders and, apparently, an even stricter set of Alexander Dimitri's Rules for Pregnant Wives Who Apparently Cannot Be Trusted With Their Own Legs.

He'd made them very clear before leaving that morning.

Do not get out of this bed unless you absolutely have to.
And if you have to use the bathroom, you walk slowly. Slowly.

As if I were eighty-seven and made entirely of fragile porcelain.

At this rate, I expected him to come back with a bell and a handwritten permission slip for bathroom privileges.

Honestly, the man had rescued me from a psychopath only to become one himself.

A much more attractive psychopath.
But still.

I hated how reasonable it sounded. 
I hated even more that I agreed with him.

But that didn’t stop the restlessness from crawling under my skin like static.

A soft knock came at the door before it opened.

Alexis walked in holding a tray that smelled suspiciously like coffee and chocolate, two things currently on my extremely restrictive, extremely tragic list of forbidden joys. She took one look at my face and sighed dramatically.

“Oh no,” she said. “You’ve got the murder stare again.”

“I do not have a murder stare.”

"You absolutely do. It's the exact one Alexander gets right before someone loses a limb. Pregnancy hormones look terrifying on you. In a very fashionable way."

I groaned and dragged a pillow over my face.

“I’m going to die in this bed. Just write that on my tombstone. Here lies Alina Dimitri. Cause of death: excessive horizontal living and one catastrophically overprotective husband who confused bed rest with house arrest.”

Alexis set the tray down on the nightstand and perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Please. If Alexander gets any more protective, he's going to have the bed fitted with a security system.”

“I wouldn't put it past him.”

“Neither would I.” She glanced at the IV, then back at me. “Although, personally, I think we should add an electric fence around the mattress. Just to be safe.”

I lifted the pillow enough to glare at her.
“Don't give him ideas.”

She grinned. “Fair point. The man already looks like he's one inconvenience away from declaring war on gravity.”

“I'm serious. I'm going insane.”

“I know.”

There was a brief pause, and when I lowered the pillow again, I caught the subtle shift in her expression.

My stomach tightened. “Has Rogers sent the new reports yet?”

Alexis's smile softened. “Not yet.”

“It’s been five days.”

“I know.”

"Five days of me lying here like an extremely high-maintenance houseplant while everyone else gets to use their legs for walking, a privilege I once took horribly for granted."

Alexis reached over and gently poked my arm. “You’re not a houseplant. You’re a high-maintenance orchid. Much more dramatic. Needs specific lighting and constant emotional support.”

I glared. She grinned wider, entirely unbothered.
The truth was the waiting had become its own special kind of torture.

Every creak of the floorboards, I assumed was Rogers arriving with news.

Every buzz of my phone, I lunged for like it might contain the meaning of life. The baby was still "viable" — the last official word we'd gotten — but "viable" felt like the medical equivalent of a customer service rep saying your call is important to us while you sat on hold indefinitely.

—still viable” was not the same as “perfectly fine.

And my brain, currently swimming in pregnancy hormones and cabin fever, refused to accept anything less than absolute certainty.

I sat up a little against the pillows, careful not to move too quickly.

“What if something’s wrong and they’re just waiting to tell us? What if they’re trying to find the right words?”

Alexis immediately took my hand. “Hey. No spiraling. Rogers said he would come as soon as the new scans were reviewed. He’s not the type to sit on bad news for dramatic effect. That’s more your husband’s style.”

I huffed a weak laugh, and then, with absolutely no warning, burst into tears.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.

“I’m crying again. I cried earlier because Alexander left me the last piece of toast. The last piece. Like it was some grand romantic gesture and not just him not being hungry.”

Alexis bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Hormones?”

“Hormones,” I confirmed miserably. “I also got irrationally angry at a sock this morning. It was on the floor. Existing. Like it had no right.”

“Valid. Socks are suspicious.”

I dropped my hands and looked at her. “I’m serious, Alexis. I feel like my emotions are being run by a committee of unhinged toddlers. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m ready to fight someone over the temperature of my water. And then five minutes later I’m crying because the light hit Alexander’s face a certain way when he kissed me goodbye.”

Alexis reached for the tray and handed me a small piece of dark chocolate. “Emergency ration. Don’t tell your husband.”

I took it without hesitation. “You’re my favorite person right now.”

“I know.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a minute while I let the chocolate melt on my tongue. Outside, a bird started singing like it had something to prove. I glared in its general direction.

“Even the birds are free,” I muttered.

Alexis followed my gaze, then looked back at me with pure mischief. “Want me to open the window and yell at it for you?”

“God, yes.”

She actually stood up, walked to the window, and cracked it open. “Hey! Some of us are on mandatory bed rest and don’t appreciate the flexibility flex. Read the room.”

I burst out laughing, then immediately teared up again because the laugh felt too good and too short.

Alexis returned to the bed, looking far too pleased with herself.

"There. Emotional support sister-in-law services now include public shaming of local wildlife. Add it to my resume."

“I love you,” I said, only half joking.

“I know that too.”

I leaned my head back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling again.

"Do you think the baby can feel how restless I am? Like is my stress transferring directly to it through some kind of maternal group chat I don't have access to yet? Am I already failing at motherhood before I've even started?”

Alexis’s expression softened. She reached over and rested her hand gently over mine on my stomach.

"You are not failing anything. You are protecting. There's a difference. Lying still when every cell in your body wants to run a marathon is genuinely hard. Doing it for someone else, for something you love more than your own comfort? That's the whole job description, Alina. That little grape in there is lucky.”

I swallowed. “Grape size still?”

“Give or take. Rogers will give us the official update.”

I nodded, but the anxiety didn’t fully leave. It just sat quieter for a moment.

A few minutes later the door opened again. Both of us looked up fast, hoping for Rogers.

It was only one of the staff members dropping off fresh water and a new stack of magazines Alexis had clearly ordered in bulk. I deflated like a sad balloon.

Alexis noticed immediately. “Okay. Emergency distraction time. Truth or dare, bed-rest edition.”

I eyed her warily. “I’m horizontal and emotionally unstable. Choose carefully.”

“Truth,” she decided for me. “What’s the most unhinged thing your hormones have made you do so far?”

I didn’t even have to think. “Yesterday I made Alexander rearrange the pillows four times because they ‘didn’t feel emotionally supportive enough.’ Then I cried when he got them right.”

Alexis wheezed. “That’s incredible. What did he do?”

"He just did it. No argument. Looked at me like I was the single most precious unhinged creature he'd ever encountered in his entire violent life, and fixed the pillows without a single sarcastic comment."

“He’s so gone for you it’s almost embarrassing.”

“I know.” I smiled despite myself. “It’s disgusting. I love it.”

We dissolved into quiet laughter. For a while the restlessness eased. Alexis told me ridiculous stories about the men downstairs, about Leo complaining that Alexander had become even more intense than usual, about how the entire household was walking on eggshells trying not to upset the “pregnant queen on bed rest.”

I pretended to be offended. I was secretly delighted.

Still, every so often my hand drifted back to my stomach, and the quiet worry returned.

“I just want to know it’s okay,” I said eventually, softer. “I can stay in this bed for another week if I have to. Two weeks. A month. I don’t care. I just need someone to look me in the eye and say the baby is still safe.”

Alexis squeezed my hand. “They will. Soon.”
I nodded, blinking hard.

Then, because the hormones apparently refused to let a single emotion exist in isolation, I added, "Also, if Alexander comes home and tells me to 'relax' one more time in that infuriatingly calm voice of his, I am going to throw something at his head, and I will not feel bad about it."

Alexis grinned. “I’ll supply the pillows.”

“You’re a true friend.”

“The best,” she agreed.

I looked down at my stomach again and spoke quietly, almost to myself.

“Hang in there, little one. Mommy’s going slightly feral for you. But she’s staying put. Even if it kills her. Which it might. Emotionally.”

Alexis leaned her head on my shoulder.
“You’re going to be an amazing mother,” she said. “Chaotic. Dramatic. Possibly unhinged. But amazing.”

I smiled, eyes wet again for no useful reason. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I really hope so.”

Outside, the bird started singing again.
This time I didn’t yell at it. 
I just lay there, restless and hopeful and ridiculously hormonal, waiting for the only update that mattered.