Chapter 126 Chapter 126
“Don’t disappear on me,” he said quietly.
I forced a smile. “I’m not the disappearing type anymore,” I said, but that was a lie too.
The clinic was small and sterile and smelled like antiseptic and nervous decisions.I kept my sunglasses on even inside. Ridiculous. Dramatic. But fear makes me theatrical. The nurse asked basic questions. Routine. Cold. Detached.
“Any recent pregnancy?” she asked and my throat tightened. “Miscarriage. A few months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded like it didn’t matter. But it did. It always did.
The doctor explained the contraceptive injection. Three months of protection. Hormones stabilizing. No daily pills to forget.Control. That’s what I wanted.
Control. When the needle slid into my arm, I closed my eyes. Not from pain. From guilt. Because I hadn’t told my husband. Because part of me knew he wouldn’t agree.
Not because he wanted to trap me. But because to him, children meant legacy. Continuation. Security. To me, children meant vulnerability.
And I’m still learning how to survive without armor. I left with a bandage on my arm and a weight in my chest.
I should’ve known better, I should’ve remembered who I married. By the time I pulled into the driveway, the air felt wrong. Too still. The front door was open.He was standing in the foyer Waiting for me He wasn’t angry, but honestly, that would’ve been easier. He was calm and calm Zaiel is lethal.
“How was lunch?” he asked softly.
I swallowed. “Good.”
“Lunch with my mother?” he asked.
And my stomach dropped. I didn’t answer. He stepped aside slightly and on the entry table sat a printed security report. Time-stamped, location-tagged, the clinic name was bold at the top. Of course, of course he’d check.
“You tracked me,” I whispered.
“I always know where you are,” he said.
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“You lied,” he said, and
The word landed hard.
“I didn’t lie.”
“You said you were with my mother,” he replied.
“I was going to tell her.”
He laughed once. Humorless. “So you went alone,” he asked.
“It’s my body.” I retorted.
His eyes darkened. “And I’m your husband,” he said. The space between us shifted, no screaming , not explosive just heavy.
“I’m not ready,” I said.
“For children?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t explode. “I married you,” he said slowly. “Not a timeline.”
Relief flickered through me. “You’re not angry?” I asked.
“I’m angry you lied,” he said.
“I was scared.”
“Of me?” he asked.
“Of losing another one,” I said, and that changed everything.
His expression shifted instantly. “I can’t go through that again,” I whispered. “The miscarriage… it destroyed me.”
He stepped closer. “Then we wait,” he said quietly.
“You’re sure?” i asked
“I don’t need children tomorrow. I need you honest,” he said softly. The argument cooled before it became something worse, but a small crack remained.
Two weeks later, I woke up in the middle of the night in pain. Sharp ,deep, low in my abdomen. I curled up instinctively and gasped. Zaiel woke up instantly. “Tessa?”
Another wave hit, and I grabbed his arm. He was out of bed in seconds. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “It hurts.”
He didn’t hesitate. “We’re going to the hospital.” The drive to the hospital blurred. His hand stayed wrapped around mine the entire time. Hospitals still made my lungs tighten. They ran tests quickly. Bloodwork , ultrasound. I stared at the ceiling while the technician went quiet. That silence, I knew that silence. The doctor entered a few minutes later.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Rhyland, you’re pregnant,” he said, and The room went completely still.
“No,” I said immediately. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s early. The injection wouldn’t have prevented conception if ovulation had already occurred.”
Pregnant, again. My chest tightened painfully.
“I don’t want this,” I whispered.
Zaiel turned toward me slowly.
“I don’t want kids,” I said, my voice shaking. “I can’t lose another one. I won’t survive that twice.”
He didn’t speak right away, then he stepped closer and took my hand gently.
“I understand,” he said softly.
I blinked at him. “I don’t care about children more than I care about you,” he said quietly. “If you’re not ready… we handle this together.”
“You’re not disappointed?” I asked.
“No,” he replied.
“Not even a little?” I asked again.
“I’m concerned about you. That’s it.”
Tears burned unexpectedly behind my eyes, I’d expected tension, pressure, expectation. Instead, he just stood there. Steady and present. When we left the hospital, I felt fragile in a way I hadn’t since the miscarriage back home, Dad looked at us carefully from the hallway.
“She’s fine,” Zaiel said calmly before I could answer. “Just tired.”
That night, he held me tighter than usual, not possessive, protective. I stared into the dark and felt the illusion of control slipping through my fingers.
I had tried to prevent this, I had tried to plan it, I had tried to protect myself and still....life had happened and this time, I didn’t know if I was strong enough to face it.
But I wasn’t alone and that terrified me almost as much as the pregnancy itself.
I didn’t tell anyone, not Alina, not Dad, not the cousins, no one. It felt safer that way.
If fewer people knew, maybe it wasn’t real yet. The doctor had said it was early. Very early. Which meant fragile. Which meant temporary in my head, no matter how hard I tried to stop thinking that way. Zaiel canceled his meetings the next morning, I pretended not to notice.
He pretended it was a coincidence, he made breakfast himself. Eggs. Toast. Fruit. Coffee was placed carefully in front of me like something sacred.
“You need to eat,” he said quietly.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re nauseous?” he said.
“No.”
He watched me take small bites like I was a science experiment.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You’re not fine,” he said, and I didn’t argue because he wasn’t wrong. The mansion felt different now, not threatening, Just… aware. Every hallway felt like it carried the expectation of the Rhyland heir, the future, the Legacy. The word "legacy" alone made my stomach twist, I excused myself halfway through breakfast and went outside.
Dad was already in the garden. He glanced up when I stepped onto the grass.
“You look pale,” he said immediately.
“I didn’t sleep much.”
He studied me for a second too long. “Did something happen?” he asked.
I shook my head too fast. “No.”
He wiped dirt off his hands and leaned back against the stone border. “You know I can tell when you’re lying,” he said.
I forced a small smile. “I’m not lying.”
I just wasn’t telling ,that’s different, he didn’t push. Dad never pushes.that almost made it worse. The nausea started that afternoon. subtle at first then stronger. I locked myself in the bathroom and gripped the counter as my stomach rolled, I stared at my reflection. pregnant. The word still felt foreign, I pressed my palm against my abdomen hesitantly. there was nothing there yet, no bump, no visible change ,just fear.