Chapter 159 CHAPTER 159:ARE YOU OKAY
~Elara's Pov~
Elara woke up at 5:17 a.m.
Not because of an alarm.
Not because of noise.
But because her stomach rolled violently.
She barely had time to sit up before her body reacted.
“Wayne” she whispered urgently, but it was too late.
She flew out of bed and rushed toward the bathroom.
Wayne jolted awake instantly.
“Elara?!”
The bathroom door shut just as the sound reached him.
He was out of bed in seconds.
“Are you okay?” he shouted through the door.
No answer.
Just the unmistakable sound of her getting sick.
His heart dropped straight into his stomach.
“Elara!”
“I’m fine!” she called weakly.
That did not sound fine.
He pushed the door open carefully and found her kneeling by the toilet, one hand braced against the wall.
Her hair had fallen forward around her face.
He immediately grabbed it gently and held it back for her.
His chest tightened painfully.
“This is my fault,” he muttered under his breath.
She managed a tired, half-laugh between breaths. “How is this your fault?”
“I did this to you.”
She glared at him weakly. “We did this.”
He crouched beside her, rubbing her back awkwardly but earnestly.
“You’re pale.”
“Thank you,” she replied dryly.
“I mean it.”
“I can tell.”
After a few minutes, the wave passed.
She leaned back against the wall, exhausted.
Wayne looked at her like she might faint at any second.
“Should we go to the hospital?”
She blinked. “For what?”
“You just threw up!”
“I’m pregnant.”
“And?”
“And this is normal.”
He stared at her.
“Normal?”
“Yes, Wayne. Morning sickness.”
His face twisted in disbelief. “It’s barely morning.”
She gave him a look. “Exactly.”
He helped her stand slowly.
“You shouldn’t have to feel like this,” he murmured.
She washed her face gently and leaned against the sink.
“It’s part of it.”
He looked personally offended.
“I don’t like it.”
She almost smiled.
“Well, I don’t either.”
They returned to bed.
For approximately seven minutes.
Then
Elara shot up again.
“Wayne”
He was already standing before she finished her sentence.
This time he followed her with water, a towel, and absolute panic in his eyes.
“This can’t be safe,” he muttered.
“It is,” she insisted weakly.
“You look like you’re dying.”
“I promise I’m not.”
She finished again and sat back, breathing slowly.
Wayne crouched beside her, studying her face like he was trying to memorize every detail.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Does it feel like food poisoning?”
“No.”
“Is the baby okay?”
That question softened her immediately.
“Yes,” she whispered. “The baby is fine.”
He exhaled slowly.
Then stood up suddenly.
“I’m calling the doctor.”
“Wayne.”
“I need to hear it from someone with a degree.”
She couldn’t even argue another wave was coming.
He stood there helplessly, rubbing her back, whispering, “I’m sorry” like he personally offended her stomach.
After she settled again, Wayne paced the bedroom with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes, she’s thrown up three times already,” he said seriously. “No, she’s not fainting. Yes, she’s drinking water. Yes, I’m watching her.”
Elara lay on the bed listening to him.
He sounded like a man reporting a national emergency.
“Yes, doctor, I understand morning sickness is common. But how much is common?”
She covered her face weakly.
After he hung up, he walked over immediately.
“Well?” she asked.
“They said it’s normal.”
She raised a brow. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not.”
She managed a small laugh.
“They said small meals. Ginger. Rest.”
“Rest?” he repeated. “You can’t even keep water down.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He sat beside her.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m tired.”
He pulled the blanket around her more carefully, like she might shatter.
Around mid-morning, Wayne decided to make her something light.
Toast.
Simple.
Safe.
He quietly walked into the kitchen and placed bread into the toaster.
He didn’t even burn it.
But the smell
“Elara!” he heard himself yell when he heard her rush again.
She didn’t even make it to the bathroom this time.
He caught her just in time and guided her carefully.
“Okay,” he said firmly once she recovered. “The toaster is banned.”
She weakly laughed. “It’s not the toaster’s fault.”
“I don’t care.”
He unplugged it anyway.
When he returned to the bedroom, he sat beside her looking defeated.
“I can’t even make toast.”
She reached for his hand.
“You’re doing fine.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He looked at her, eyes softer now.
“I hate seeing you like this.”
“I know.”
“But it means something good,” she reminded him gently.
He placed his hand slowly over her stomach again.
“I know,” he whispered.
By afternoon, exhaustion hit her fully.
She lay curled slightly on her side, drained.
Wayne refused to leave the room.
Not even to shower.
“Elara,” he said quietly, “tell me what you need.”
She hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
He looked frustrated.
“I need something practical.”
She almost smiled.
“Okay.”
She thought for a moment.
“Cold water.”
He immediately stood up and returned within seconds.
“Anything else?”
She closed her eyes.
“Just stay.”
His shoulders softened.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A few minutes later, she whispered
“I feel weak.”
His heart jumped.
“From throwing up,” she clarified quickly.
He nodded.
Then suddenly, tears slipped from her eyes.
“I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
He froze.
“Like what?”
“So hard.”
He moved closer instantly.
“Hey.”
“I wanted this so much,” she whispered. “And now I feel guilty for complaining.”
He shook his head immediately.
“You’re allowed to complain.”
“But what if I’m not strong enough?”
He gently lifted her chin.
“You are literally growing a human.”
She laughed weakly through tears.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It is dramatic.”
He brushed her hair back gently.
“You don’t have to be heroic about this.”
She swallowed.
“It’s only the beginning.”
“Then we survive the beginning.”
Later that evening, she threw up again.
Wayne lost it.
“That’s it. We’re going to the hospital.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
She stared at him.
“Wayne. I promise this is normal.”
He paced.
“You’re dehydrated.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like you fought a war.”
She sat up slowly.
“Come here.”
He reluctantly approached.
She took his hand and placed it back over her stomach.
“It’s okay.”
He looked down at her.
“I don’t feel okay.”
She softened completely.
“Oh.”
He exhaled shakily.
“I thought pregnancy would be glowing and cute and cravings.”
She laughed weakly.
“It’s not a movie.”
“I don’t like that you’re suffering.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I’m not suffering. I’m adjusting.”
He leaned down and rested his forehead gently against hers.
“I need to be better at this.”
“You’re already better than most.”
He pulled back slightly.
“Why?”
“Because you care.”
That silenced him.
By night, she finally managed to keep down a small amount of crackers and water.
Wayne looked like he had aged five years.
“You’re sure you’re okay now?”
“For the hundredth time, yes.”
He lay beside her carefully.
Almost cautiously.
As if she were fragile glass.
She turned toward him.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“You were terrified of the hospital results.”
“And now I’m terrified of toast.”
She laughed softly.
He smiled faintly.
“You scared me today.”
“I scared myself.”
He brushed his fingers gently through her hair.
“I wish I could take half of it.”
She looked at him warmly.
“You already are.”
He frowned slightly.
“How?”
“By staying.”
He wrapped his arm around her gently.
“This is just the beginning,” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“Are you still happy?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
He kissed her forehead softly.
“Me too.”
And as she drifted into exhausted sleep, Wayne lay awake for a while longer.
Listening to her breathing.
Watching her chest rise and fall.
Protective.
Overwhelmed.
Terrified.
And completely in love.
Because morning sickness might have been chaotic.
But beneath the chaos
There was a tiny heartbeat beginning.
And that made every moment worth it.