Chapter 137 Chapter 137
His mouth almost twitched, but exhaustion lingered behind his calm expression, dark shadows beneath his eyes telling me sleep hadn’t been part of his routine lately.
“Sit with me," I said, patting the bed. He hesitated for half a second before sitting beside me, and when my fingers slid into his hair gently, his shoulders loosened just enough for me to notice.
“I’m okay," I said with a sigh.
“You were bleeding in front of me, Tessa," he said quietly. The words came quietly, steadily, and matter-of-factly, and something in my chest tightened because there was no anger in his voice, only memory.
“But I’m here now," I said.
His hand hovered near my side, stopping just short of touching the bandage.
“She almost took you from me," he said.
I didn’t answer because I knew arguing against that fear wouldn’t help, and after a moment he leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine, breathing slowly like he was grounding himself.
“Get some rest," he said, and this time I listened.
I woke up later to sunlight filtering through the room, and the absence beside me told me he was awake but nearby, which proved true the moment. I looked outside and saw Dad already in the garden moving calmly between plants like nothing catastrophic had happened. Normal life is quietly rebuilding itself.
I wrapped a sweater around my shoulders and went downstairs, ignoring the dull ache in my side because staying in bed made my thoughts louder. Dad looked up immediately.
“You’re supposed to be resting," he said, standing up.
“I needed some fresh air."
He nodded, accepting that without pushing further, and we stood together watching the yard in comfortable silence. “He loves you a lot," he said quietly, and I glanced at him.
“I know," I said softly.
“Most men hesitate when things get hard, but Zaiel hasn't," he said quietly.
“Does that worry you?” I asked.
He smiled faintly while brushing dirt from his hands. “Only if it ever stops making you happy," he said. The answer sat heavy because happiness felt complicated now, layered with understanding I didn’t have before. Movement behind me shifted the air, and I didn’t need to turn to know he was there.
“You shouldn’t be outside alone," he said.
“I’m with Dad."
“That doesn’t remove any risk," he said, and Dad laughed softly.
“I think she’s safe with me," Dad said. Zaiel ignored the comment entirely, stepping closer, his attention fully on me.
“You need to lie down," he said. I just sighed.
“I’m healing, not dying, Zaiel," I said, and I saw his jaw tighten slightly.
“You nearly did," he said, and the words landed heavier than intended, and silence followed until I softened.
“I'm okay, I promise."
He studied me another second before guiding me back inside anyway, and I went willingly because fighting his concern felt unfair after everything.
Sleep came badly that night, memories slipping through every time I closed my eyes until I shifted restlessly, and immediately his arm tightened around me.
“Bad dream?” he asked.
I nodded against his chest, breathing unevenly while his hand moved slowly along my back, steady, rhythmic, calming. “You’re safe," he said, rubbing my back.
I believed him completely, and realizing that unsettled me more than fear ever had because safety now existed inside someone capable of terrifying things. Days passed quietly after that, too quietly, as if the other shoe was going to drop at any second and trouble was coming.
Security increased without any announcement, new guards, rotations changing, and vehicles appearing where they hadn’t before, and Zaiel worked almost entirely from home, his attention splitting between business calls and watching me like he expected danger to walk through the door at any moment.
Joe visited often, speaking with him in low tones, while Jax, Rob, and Carlo barely left the property. Everything functioned normally, yet tension lived underneath it all.
One night I woke up and found him sitting upright beside me, watching.
“You’re staring at me."
“I’m making sure you’re breathing," he said.
I reached for his hand, pulling him down beside me. “You saved me; I'm still here, Zaiel.”
“I protected what belongs to me," he said.
The possessiveness should have frightened me, but instead warmth spread slowly through my chest because I understood what those words meant now. He never mentioned Avani again, not even once, like removing her erased the problem completely. Maybe in his world it had, but I wouldn't forget.
Two weeks later I stood in the bathroom staring at myself again, counting days without meaning to because my body felt off, tired, heavier, with nausea brushing faintly at the edges of morning. Fear crept in immediately, sharp and unwelcome. No, I gripped the counter, breathing slowly, reminding myself I had taken precautions after the miscarriage appointments and injections and everything.
Still panic settled deep in my chest; from downstairs, Zaiel called my name.
“Coming”
I washed my face quickly before joining him, forcing normalcy into my expression. “You look pale," he said.
“I’m okay, just a bit tired," I said with a smile.
He stepped closer, brushing hair from my face with concern. “We can call the doctor," he said, and I shook my head too quickly.
“I just need rest."
His eyes narrowed slightly, sensing something beneath my words, but he didn’t press further, not yet. He pulled me into his arms, unaware of the fear spiraling quietly inside me, and as I rested against him, one thought repeated louder with every passing second. What if I were pregnant again?.
I didn’t know if I could survive losing another baby, and deep down I wasn’t sure he could survive it either. The feeling didn’t go away. I told myself it was stress or recovery or my body still trying to settle after everything that happened, but every morning the nausea returned, faint but persistent, and every night exhaustion settled into my bones heavier than it should have.
I counted the dates without meaning to because once the thought entered my mind, it refused to leave, and denial only worked for so long before fear started sounding logical. I stood in the bathroom longer than necessary, staring at the drawer where I had hidden the test two days earlier after stopping at a pharmacy during a security-escorted trip that nobody questioned because nobody ever questioned medical supplies after what happened.
My hands shook slightly as I pulled the box out. This wasn’t supposed to happen again. I had taken the shot after the miscarriage because I couldn’t go through that pain another time, and I remembered sitting in the clinic convincing myself control meant safety even while guilt sat quietly in my chest for hiding it from Zaiel.
I told myself I was protecting both of us; now I wasn’t sure protection existed. The house stayed quiet downstairs, and I listened carefully, making sure no footsteps approached before locking the bathroom door. Even though no one ever entered without knocking, still, I needed the illusion of privacy.