Chapter 196: The Weight of the Open Gate Part 02
Ava's POV
Just then, the door opened silently, and Dr. Aris, the head physician, entered. She was a short, severe woman whose clinical professionalism instantly silenced any lingering fear. She checked the monitors.
"Good morning, Ms. Green," she said, her voice dry and efficient. "You're holding steady. The blood loss has stabilized. However, the severe stress, trauma, and recent exertion—combined with documented malnutrition—have placed a significant strain on your uterus. You are exhibiting signs of preterm labor contractions."
"How long must I remain bedridden, doctor?" I asked, my voice laced with frustration.
She pulled a chair to the bedside, her expression turning serious. "You are six months pregnant, Ms. Green. The goal now is to prevent a serious complication called preterm delivery. I understand the need for action, but your commitment must be absolute. We need a minimum of four days of tocolytic medication and absolute rest to ensure the uterine distress subsides. However, it’s best if you remain on bedrest for the remainder of your pregnancy."
"Every spike in adrenaline, every sudden movement, every act of defiance against this rest, risks triggering more contractions. At this stage, that is critical," she stated, looking directly at my face. "The baby is currently your primary vulnerability. It is also your anchor to stillness. Your job right now is simply to be."
With a brief nod, she departed as silently as she arrived. Her words hammered home the reality: the Commander's war was secondary to the biological fight against preterm labor.
My thoughts shifted. What if he didn't secure this place?
I looked at a tiny, unused smoke detector near the ceiling. It was just a small white circle, but it seemed to hold a flicker of light. I dismissed the thought—it was just stress and fear distorting my vision.
"She's right," Emma murmured. "You need to relax. Stop looking at the smoke detector."
"Do you think Liam's right about Gabriel?" I asked, needing to change the subject. "That he's still out there, wanting to finish the chaos?"
"Liam knows his enemies," Emma said plainly. "He's probably running faster and quieter than he ever has. He has to. He's not fighting for a stock price now. He's fighting for a wedding date he knows he has already missed. He has to earn a new one."
The phrase hung in the air: Earn a new one.
Liam was fighting to secure the very ground on which I would rebuild my trust. My part was to recover, to stay safe, and to maintain the fierce condition: The Protector must never falter.
The thought of Liam fighting for me, for the baby, while I lay uselessly still was suffocating. I needed water. The glass on the bedside table was just out of reach. I decided to make a small test, a defiance of the trauma and the Commander's imposed stillness.
Just one foot, I told myself. Just reach.
I slowly shifted my weight to the side... I extended my arm, reaching for the water glass—a distance of perhaps twelve inches.
Suddenly, a bolt of searing, white-hot pain tore through my lower abdomen. This was not a cramp; it felt like a heavy, constricting force, a wave of agony that tightened across my middle. It was the contraction Dr. Aris warned me about, terrifyingly intense and real.
I gasped, a small, choked sound that was instantly loud in the quiet room. My vision swam, and the world dissolved into the clinical beep-beep-beep of the monitor accelerating beside me. I instinctively clamped my hands over my stomach.
"Ava!" Emma was instantly out of her chair... "What are you doing? Lie down!"
Tears of sheer, agonizing pain pricked my eyes. I could only focus on lying absolutely still, willing the contraction to pass.
The monitor was screaming now, its light flashing rapidly. I grasped Emma's hand, shaking my head violently, refusing the call for help. I wanted this crisis to be silent and contained.
The contraction slowly began to loosen its grip, receding like a cruel tide. The monitor's tempo began to stabilize, pulling me back from the brink of crisis. I watched the green line of my heart rate slow its frantic dance, mirroring the settling chaos in my body.
"I just... needed water," I whispered, shame and fear flooding me. The small, rebellious act had been instantly and violently punished by my own body.
Emma was visibly trembling as she poured the water and held the straw to my lips. "Don't you dare do that again," she said, her voice rough with fear. "You are not a warrior right now, Ava. You are a vessel. You keep telling yourself that. Liam is fighting the monster outside. You are fighting the trauma inside. And you cannot move."
I swallowed the cool water, nodding weakly. The threat of preterm labor was a harsher lesson than any doctor's warning. The Commander's rules were gone, but the physical reality of the threat to my child remained absolute.