Chapter 100: Morning Sickness.

Chapter 100: Morning Sickness.
The next morning, Dua was jerked awake by a wave of nausea crashing over her. She tried to suppress it, but as her stomach churned, she bolted to the bathroom just in time to heave. The weariness clung to her, and after splashing cold water on her face, she studied her reflection in the mirror with a furrowed brow. "I didn't eat anything bad last night, why am I vomiting?" she questioned, searching for answers in her own tired gaze.
After a quick shower, she dressed in the most comfortable clothes she could find, but comfort eluded her. Her body screamed for her to stay in bed, yet she resolved to push herself out. Stepping downstairs, she felt the weight of a heavy mood settle over her.
“Good morning,” she greeted everyone at the dining table, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You having a bad morning?" Shane asked, concern etched in his features as he scrutinized her.
"A really bad one," she replied, forcing a weak smile.
Noticing the absence of her husband, she glanced around the kitchen and inquired, "Where's knucklehead?"
"We haven't seen him this morning," Denise replied, busying herself with some dessert preparation.
The sight of the dessert turned her stomach once again, and she rushed out of the kitchen, heart racing, just in time to reach the bathroom before a wave of nausea took hold once more. 
Gathering herself, Dua leaned against the cool sink, her breathing heavy as she fought against the anxiety creeping in. This felt different—far more alarming. "What is happening to me?" she murmured, her reflection staring back, a mix of vulnerability and strength.
Steeling herself, Dua exited the bathroom and braced for the kitchen’s aromas, which hit her like a tidal wave. The scent of breakfast sent her stomach into another tumultuous protest.
“Dua, are you okay?” Shane asked again, genuine concern in his eyes. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just… you know, a little queasy.”
Denise turned, her brow furrowed, and added, “If you’re feeling sick, you really shouldn’t push yourself. You need to rest.”
Grateful for their concern, Dua nodded but couldn’t shake the feeling of worry—especially about her husband. “I think I should check on him,” she finally said, despite the heaviness that settled on her
“Just take it easy, will you?” Shane advised, his tone a mixture of worry and brotherly affection.
Dua nodded, her heart fluttering with a hint of concern for her husband. He’d been grappling with so much lately, and she had promised to support him through it all. As she exited the kitchen, their conversations faded behind her, replaced by the thundering of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
She began her search in his study, knocking lightly on the door. “Come in,” his calm voice rang out.
Dua stepped inside and was momentarily awed by his appearance—those glasses framing his face with an air of elegance, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a mountain of papers. Unable to resist, she leaned against the wall, allowing a soft smile to spread across her lips as she admired him.
After a few moments of silence, Steven raised his head. “Oh, it’s you,” he smiled warmly.
“Good morning,” Dua greeted, her heart lifting.
“Morning,” he replied, glancing back at his papers before returning his gaze to her. “How was your sleep?”
Dua’s eyes sparkled as she replied, “You’re exceptionally handsome today.”
“Don’t flirt with me, darling,” he smirked, pretending to be stern. “It’s dangerous.”
She chuckled lightly, “I’m not flirting. It’s just the truth.”
Finally, Steven left his seat and walked toward her, pulling her into his embrace. His hand wove through her hair with a tenderness that sent warmth through her. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“No,” she shook her head, guilt washing over her. “Our babies aren’t allowing me to eat; I’ve been nauseous, and I even threw up twice.”
“Then we should see your gynecologist,” he said firmly.
His words reminded her of the appointment she had been meaning to schedule for him today, to ensure he would meet with his doctor.
“Yeah, let’s go. You need to see your doctor too,” she replied, an encouraging smile on her lips despite the worry brewing within her.
“Dua,” he sighed, a crease forming between his brows. “I appreciate the concern, but right now, you should be my priority.”
The intensity in his eyes made her heart race. “You really are unbelievable,” he murmured, a mixture of admiration and concern etched across his features. “I can’t have you neglecting yourself just because I’ve been under the weather.”
She took a deep breath, caught between her discomfort and the desire to be strong for him. “I’ll be fine, I promise. But we really need to talk to the doctor about both of us.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, revealing the weariness that clung to him. “Alright, let’s do it together. But the moment we’re done, I want you to rest. Deal?”
“Deal.” Her heart warmed at his insistence, a sweet reminder of the care he showered upon her even when he needed support just as much.
As they made their way downstairs, she was pleasantly surprised to find Shane and Denise cleaning up after breakfast. When they entered the kitchen, Shane raised an eyebrow at Dua. “You look a bit better. Ready to eat something now?”
“Definitely not,” she retorted, a smirk catching on her lips despite the twisting unease in her stomach.
“Not quite the answer I was hoping for,” Shane chuckled, but then his expression turned serious. “Seriously, are you both okay?”
“Honestly, I’m worried about both of us,” Dua admitted, stealing a glance at Steven, who stood protectively beside her.
“Take it easy, Dua,” Denise chimed in, her voice soothing. “Your health is the priority. Everything else can wait.”
Dua felt a deep sense of gratitude wash over her, buoyed by this environment of unwavering support. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softening.
Once they settled into the car, Steven protested, “I’m really fine, Dua. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You weren’t fine last night,” Dua countered firmly.
“But I am now,” he insisted.
“So I’m just supposed to leave you, believing you’re fine, and risk you suffering another attack?” Dua shot back. “Not happening.”
Steven sighed, running a hand through his hair again, a gesture of frustration and helplessness.
When they arrived at the hospital, Dua was seen by her gynecologist first. After some discussions and tests, the reassuring news came: she was just experiencing morning sickness, a normal part of pregnancy. In the end, she was advised to rest. 
After leaving the gynecologist's office, Dua and Steven made their way to his doctor's office. The atmosphere was tense, filled with unspoken worries, as Dua exchanged greetings with the doctor. 
When the initial pleasantries faded, she couldn’t contain her concern any longer. “I’m really worried about Steven’s health after the attack last night,” she expressed, her voice trembling slightly.
The doctor heaved a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s still alive. His medical report indicates he should have passed a month ago, but it’s nothing short of a miracle to see he’s still here.”
Dua’s heart sank at the grim news, but the doctor continued, “However, the recurring attacks signal that his surgery can’t be delayed any longer.”
“What are the survival chances?” Dua asked, fear tightening her chest.
“Fifty-fifty,” the doctor responded solemnly. “But it’s possible we might get lucky and he’ll pull through.”
“Get lucky?” Steven snapped, an edge of anger in his voice. “It’s a fucking hole in my heart! How can we rely on luck? There’s no available donor right now in case things go wrong!” 
The doctor’s expression softened, and he interjected, “Actually, we found a donor. I was going to call you both today to discuss it.”
Steven’s eyes widened in shock. The weight of the news hung in the air as Dua felt an overwhelming rush of relief. “Thank you, doctor,” she said gratefully. “We’ll proceed with the surgery.”
“I won’t,” Steven countered, his tone resolute.
“But…” Dua began, her heart racing.
“I said I won’t!” Steven cut her off, frustration and fear lacing his words.
Scoffing in disbelief, Dua stormed out of the doctor’s office. Realizing the gravity of what he’d just done, Steven rushed after her, calling her name in desperation, but she didn’t respond. He caught up with her, grabbing her hand gently, but she withdrew it from his grasp, her expression a mixture of anger and hurt.
She climbed into the back passenger seat of the car and slammed the door. The sound reverberated in Steven’s chest, carrying a weight of unresolved tension. With a heavy sigh, he retreated to the driver's seat, his heart aching with every moment of silence.
As soon as he parked the car, she stormed into the house, her heart racing with anger and frustration. She didn't even bother to listen to him. But as she stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat at the shocking scene unfolding before her.
Inside the living room, Steven walked in too, his eyes widening in disbelief. 
“Hello, honey,” Diane greeted him, a warm smile on her face as if nothing had happened, as if she had never left.