Chapter 274 Hold It(Hiatus)

Chapter 274 Hold It(Hiatus)
“Why are you always laying your head on my chest, mi Ravial?” Leitana asked as she pushed her fingers into his silky ebony hair that rested between her breasts. He lifted his head just enough so his jaw settled against her soft skin.

“Why do you ask that, my Lamb?” he murmured, a small smile playing on his full lips.

She smiled back and scraped her nails gently over his scalp in a soothing rhythm. He smiled wider, rubbing his thumb slowly over her swollen belly.

“Nothing much, mi Ravial. I just noticed you do that every night. You lay your head there like you’re listening to my heart.”

He leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss right over the place where her heart beat. “Maybe I am listening to my lamb’s heartbeat. It lulls me to sleep.”

She giggled and shook her head. “Yu so funny, mi Ravial.”

She tugged him closer and pressed her lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss. The moment she started to pull back, he deepened it, and she smiled against his mouth. After all these months she had learned one thing well: she never needed to do much for Ravial to gravitate toward her like a bear to honey.

His tongue slid past her lips. She opened for him willingly, letting him stroke the sensitive roof of her mouth until she shivered and moaned. Their tongues tangled and rubbed, and he sucked gently on hers. His large hand slid to her exposed left breast and gave it a soft squeeze. She winced. Pregnancy had made her breasts heavy and extremely sensitive, already beginning to fill with milk for the little one inside her. Ravial’s thumb brushed over her hardened nipple, drawing another soft sound from her throat.

They melted deeper into each other.

What Leitana did not know was that Ravial was not joking. Every night he pressed his head to her chest and listened to her heartbeat for hours without sleep. He listened because of fear—fear of losing the only thing he had come to love more than anything in existence. He counted every thud inside her living flesh to make sure she was still with him. If it ever stopped, he was prepared to tear the world apart to force it back into place.



Two days later they sat in a private examination room at the private hospital in Port Vila.

Leitana was eight months pregnant.

Her belly was large and round now, the skin stretched tight and glowing under the soft clinic lights. But the rest of her body told a different story. She had grown thinner in the face and arms. Dark circles sat under her eyes no matter how much she slept. Her hands trembled slightly when she wasn’t holding onto Ravial. The black substance still came up in secret some mornings, and every day she felt a little more fragile, like her body was quietly giving pieces of itself to keep the baby safe.

The doctor, a calm woman in her forties with kind eyes, finished the ultrasound and turned the monitor so they could both see.

“The baby is strong,” she said with a warm smile. “Heartbeat is excellent. He’s measuring right on track for thirty-two weeks. Lungs are developing well and rhe position is good.”

Leitana exhaled in relief, her hand tightening around Ravial’s. He stood beside the examination table, one large hand resting protectively on her belly, the other gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

The doctor's expression softened as she looked at Leitana more carefully.

“You, however… are looking more depleted than last month. Your blood pressure is a little low. Weight gain has slowed more than I’d like. The fatigue you described is concerning. I want you on strict rest for the next few weeks. No long outings. No stress if it can be avoided. We’ll increase your iron and nutrient supplements, and I want you back in seven days for another check.”

She paused, then added gently, “The baby is taking what he needs. Your body is working very hard. We just need to make sure you don’t get weaker before the final stretch.”

Ravial’s voice was calm and controlled, but the tension in it was sharp. “Is she in danger?”

“Not immediately,” She answered carefully. “But we are watching closely. The priority is keeping both of them stable until the baby is fully ready.”

Leitana nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the screen where their son’s profile was still frozen. She rubbed her belly with both hands.

“As long as he’s okay,” she whispered. “That’s all that matters.”

Ravial leaned down and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, then another to the top of her swollen belly. His blindfolded face stayed close to her skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if he were listening again, listening for the two heartbeats that kept him tethered to this world.

He said nothing more in front of the doctor.

But the moment they were alone in the hallway, his arm locked tightly around her waist, supporting most of her weight as they walked.

“You will rest,” he said quietly, voice dark with finality. “Properly. No arguments, my lamb. I will not risk you.”

Leitana leaned into him, exhausted but smiling faintly.

“I know, mi Ravial. I know.”

When they got home, Ravial wasted no time.

He helped Leitana out of the car as if she were made of glass, one arm firmly around her waist, the other supporting her elbow. The moment they stepped inside the villa he issued orders to the staff, soft lighting only, meals to be prepared light and frequent—and guided her straight to their bedroom.

He sat her on the edge of the bed, knelt to remove her shoes, then stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Lie down. Rest. I’ll be right back.”

Leitana nodded, too tired to argue. She watched him leave the room, the door closing softly behind him.

Only a few minutes passed before the door opened again. Ravial stepped inside carrying a glass of the fortified juice the doctor had recommended and a small folded blanket. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Leitana was no longer on the bed.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror near the window, wearing only a thin white dress that clung to the heavy curve of her belly. Her hands rested under the swell as if trying to hold it up herself. Her reflection showed the strain in her shoulders and the tired lines around her eyes.

Ravial’s voice came out slightly rough.

“What are you doing, my lamb?”

She looked at him through the mirror and gave a small, almost shy smile.

“Come here, mi Ravial.”

He set the glass and blanket down without looking away from her and walked over until he stood directly behind her. She reached back, took both of his large hands, and carefully guided them under the heavy weight of her belly.

“Hold it,” she whispered. “Please… lift it a little.”

Ravial obeyed without hesitation. His strong hands slid beneath the rounded curve and gently lifted, taking a good portion of the weight off her spine and hips.

Leitana’s entire body sagged with relief. A long, shaky sigh left her lips as her head dropped back against his chest.

“Ahh… yes. Like that.”

Ravial’s arms stayed steady, cradling the precious weight of their son. He looked down at the mirror, at the way her small hands rested over his larger ones, at the way the heavy belly rested in his palms. Something fierce and tender twisted in his chest.

“Your back was hurting,” he said quietly, understanding at last.

“So much,” she admitted, eyes half-closed in relief. “Every day now. It feels like the baby is getting heavier and heavier. When yu hold it like this… it feels so much better.”

Ravial pressed his lips to the side of her neck, still carefully supporting the belly.

“Then I will hold it whenever you need,” he murmured against her skin. “As long as you want. As often as you need. Just tell me.”

Leitana’s hands tightened over his. A soft, grateful smile curved her lips as she watched them both in the mirror—his tall, powerful frame behind her, his hands lifting the weight of their child, her body finally able to breathe a little easier.

“Thank you, mi Ravial,” she whispered.

He kissed her neck again, slower this time, and kept holding her.