70: I wish he was here
70: I wish he was here
Lena.
Weeks passed in this careful balance of work, preparation, and self-protection. My body changed incrementally, the first visible signs of pregnancy appearing earlier than expected due to the multiple occupants and their accelerated werewolf development. Dr. Vasquez monitored these changes with professional interest and personal concern, adjusting my care plan as needed to accommodate the unique demands of carrying Alpha triplets.
"Your nutritional needs are particularly high," she explained during my second monthly appointment. "Werewolf pregnancies require significantly more protein and specific minerals than human ones. With triplets, those requirements triple. You're essentially feeding four werewolves, counting yourself as connected through the pregnancy."
I adjusted my diet accordingly, prioritizing protein and iron-rich foods despite budget constraints. Lou, observing my increasing appetite with amusement, began setting aside staff meals that "accidentally" contained double portions of meat and vegetables.
"Growing babies need protein," he commented gruffly when I tried to pay for the extra food. "Consider it a workplace benefit."
His matter-of-fact support was matched by Darlene's practical assistance. As my pregnancy became visible, she casually left bags of gently used maternity clothes outside my apartment door, offered advice on managing work while pregnant, and adjusted the waitress scheduling to give me less physically demanding shifts as my balance became more affected by my changing center of gravity.
"Been through five pregnancies myself," she explained when I thanked her. "Not all at once like you're doing, thank God, but I remember how it feels. Women should help each other through these things."
Their simple human kindness created a protective community around me that, while not replacing the supernatural support a pack would have provided, offered stability and practical assistance I hadn't expected to find in exile. The diner became a kind of surrogate pack—not connected by blood or supernatural bonds, but by daily shared experience and mutual support.
As my second trimester began, the accelerated werewolf gestation became more evident. At what would be four months in a human pregnancy, I appeared closer to six months along, my abdomen prominently rounded with the three growing lives within. Movement became challenging, sleep increasingly difficult as the active triplets seemed to coordinate their waking hours for maximum disruption of my rest.
More concerning were the occasional supernatural symptoms that began manifesting—moments when my senses sharpened dramatically, allowing me to hear conversations across the diner or detect subtle scent changes that should have been imperceptible to human awareness. These episodes were brief but disorienting, apparently caused by hormonal fluctuations affecting the partial connection to werewolf physiology created by the pregnancy.
"It's not unprecedented," Dr. Vasquez assured me during a particularly concerning episode when I'd briefly developed enhanced vision that rendered normal light painfully bright. "Human mothers carrying werewolf children sometimes experience temporary manifestations of werewolf traits. The effect is stronger with Alpha offspring and multiple pregnancies—both factors in your case."
"Will it become permanent?" I asked, alarmed by the implications for maintaining my anonymous human existence.
"Unlikely," she replied. "These effects typically subside after delivery, though some sensitization may remain—slightly better hearing or sense of smell than average humans, perhaps, but nothing that would identify you as supernatural to casual observation."
The physical changes, however challenging, were manageable compared to the increasingly complex emotional landscape. As the pregnancy progressed, the mate bond became more difficult to compartmentalize, fluctuating unpredictably between dull background ache and sharp moments of connection that left me breathless with renewed grief.
During one , halfway through my pregnancy, I felt Kieran's presence along the bond with such clarity it was as if he stood in the room with me. The sensation was accompanied by a wave of what felt like desperate searching—not just the passive awareness we normally shared, but active seeking, as if he were deliberately reaching for me through the connection.
That night, I dreamed of him with vivid intensity—Kieran standing in our chambers at the fortress, holding something in his hands, his expression troubled as he studied whatever he held. The dream shifted to the council chamber, where he confronted Matthias, their words inaudible but their postures suggesting serious conflict. Then to the mountain boundary where I had begun my exile, Kieran staring into the distance as if he could see me if he only looked hard enough.
I woke disoriented, the bond thrumming with unprecedented activity. Something had changed in our connection, some barrier weakened or perspective shifted. Was it simply the pregnancy advancing, the triplets' developing presence strengthening the biological connection between their parents? Or had something occurred in the pack territories to alter Kieran's understanding of our situation?
The questions remained unanswered as I forced myself back to practical concerns—another day of kitchen management, inventory ordering, staff scheduling, and physical accommodation of my rapidly growing pregnancy. The dreams and bond fluctuations continued with increasing frequency, however, suggesting something fundamental was shifting between Kieran and me despite the physical and political barriers of exile.