Chapter 160 CHAPTER 160:PREGNANCY SCARE
~Wayne & Elara's Pov~
Pregnancy changed Wayne.
Not gradually.
Not subtly.
Immediately.
It started small.
“Don’t carry that.”
“Elara, sit down.”
“Careful.”
“Walk slowly.”
“Did you drink water?”
At first, she found it sweet.
Then funny.
Then slightly exhausting.
It had only been three weeks since the morning sickness chaos, but Wayne had entered full-bodyguard mode.
If she stood too quickly, he appeared.
If she walked downstairs, he followed.
If she reached for something on a shelf, he was already there.
“Elara,” he said one afternoon, watching her attempt to lift a small grocery bag. “I’ll take that.”
“It’s fruit.”
“And?”
“It weighs nothing.”
He gently took it from her anyway.
She watched him.
“You know women carry babies and function, right?”
“Yes.”
“And they don’t shatter.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why are you acting like I’m made of glass?”
He didn’t answer.
He just placed the fruit down and adjusted the chair for her before she could sit.
She sighed softly.
The real tension began two days later.
Elara was halfway down the stairs when Wayne appeared from nowhere.
“Hold the railing.”
“I am.”
“Slow down.”
“I’m walking.”
“Carefully.”
She stopped halfway down and looked at him.
“I’m not climbing a mountain.”
“You could slip.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
She stared at him.
“Wayne.”
“What?”
“I’ve used stairs my entire life.”
“Yes, but you weren’t pregnant.”
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“That doesn’t make me incapable.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He froze.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I know.”
“But you’re suffocating me.”
Silence fell between them.
His expression changed hurt, defensive, confused.
“I’m suffocating you?”
She softened immediately.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it is.”
She came down the last step slowly.
“I love that you care.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m doing something wrong?”
She stepped closer to him.
“Because I don’t want to feel fragile.”
He swallowed.
“You are fragile.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I am not.”
“You’re carrying our child.”
“And that doesn’t erase me.”
That hit him.
Hard
The next confrontation happened in public.
They were at the grocery store.
Elara had insisted on coming.
“I need air,” she said earlier that morning.
Wayne reluctantly agreed.
But the second they entered the store, he became hyper-aware.
He watched everyone.
Every cart.
Every aisle.
He kept one hand at her lower back constantly.
When a man walked too close with a cart, Wayne stepped in front of her instantly.
“Elara, stand here.”
“Wayne.”
“Just stay close.”
“I am close.”
“Closer.”
She inhaled slowly.
When she reached for a cereal box on a slightly higher shelf, Wayne practically jumped.
“I’ve got it.”
“I can reach it.”
“You don’t need to stretch.”
“I’m not stretching.”
“You could strain something.”
She stared at him.
“In my arm?”
“You never know.”
She slowly lowered her hand.
“Okay.”
He grabbed the cereal.
She didn’t speak for the next five minutes.
He noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Elara.”
She stopped the cart.
“I feel like I’m a patient.”
“You’re not.”
“You’re treating me like one.”
“I’m treating you like someone I love.”
“And that love is turning into control.”
He froze.
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“I don’t want to feel like I need supervision.”
He looked genuinely wounded.
“I’m not supervising you.”
“You are.”
He lowered his voice.
“I just don’t want anything to happen.”
Her tone softened slightly.
“Nothing is happening.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t either.”
That was the problem.
Fear.
Pure fear.
That night, it finally exploded.
She stood from the couch to get water.
Wayne stood too.
“I can walk to the kitchen alone.”
“I know.”
“Then stop following me.”
He stopped mid-step.
Silence.
“You think I don’t see it?” she asked quietly.
“See what?”
“The way you watch me like something is about to go wrong.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I can’t help it.”
“Yes, you can.”
He ran his hand through his hair.
“I almost lost you once.”
Her expression softened immediately.
That fear had never fully left him.
The hospital.
The uncertainty.
The waiting for results.
The terror of maybe never having this.
“I remember,” she whispered.
“So forgive me if I don’t want to risk anything.”
She stepped closer.
“You’re not risking anything by letting me exist.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t understand what it feels like.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“It feels like everything I love is inside you.”
Her breath caught.
“And if something happens…” His voice lowered. “I lose both.”
That cracked her heart open.
She stepped forward and cupped his face.
“Wayne.”
“I’m terrified,” he admitted.
The honesty shifted the entire room.
“I don’t want to wake up one day and regret not being careful enough.”
She pressed her forehead gently against his chest.
“You can’t control everything.”
“I can try.”
“And that’s what’s exhausting me.”
He closed his eyes.
“I didn’t realize I was hurting you.”
“I know you didn’t.”
They sat on the couch in silence for a while.
Then she placed his hand on her stomach again.
“You’re allowed to be scared.”
He nodded.
“But I need to breathe.”
He looked at her carefully.
“What does that mean?”
“It means let me carry a cup without looking like I’m committing a crime.”
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Okay.”
“Let me walk.”
“Okay.”
“Let me reach things.”
He hesitated.
“Within reason.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Wayne.”
“Fine. Okay.”
She smiled softly.
“And I promise I won’t be reckless.”
He studied her face.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
He pulled her gently into his arms.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“We learn.”
He held her tighter.
“I just love you too much.”
She melted into him.
“That’s not a problem.”
“Feels like one.”
She looked up at him.
“Only when fear is louder than trust.”
That sat with him.
The next morning, she deliberately tested him.
She walked to the kitchen alone.
He noticed.
He didn’t follow.
She reached for a cup.
He stayed seated.
She poured water.
He remained still.
She turned slowly to look at him.
He was watching.
But he wasn’t hovering.
She smiled slightly.
He exhaled.
Progress.
Later that afternoon, she tripped slightly on the edge of a rug.
It wasn’t even serious.
But Wayne crossed the room in under two seconds.
“Elara!”
“I’m fine!”
He steadied her anyway.
His hands shook.
“I’m fine,” she repeated gently.
He exhaled slowly.
“Okay.”
She touched his face softly.
“You don’t have to turn it off.”
“I can’t.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He looked confused.
“I just need it balanced.”
He nodded slowly.
Balanced.
Not gone.
Just softer.
That night, as they lay in bed, Wayne’s hand rested gently over her stomach.
Not tight.
Not possessive.
Just there.
“You know,” she murmured, “I kind of like that you’re protective.”
His lips curved slightly.
“Kind of?”
“Just don’t put me in a bubble.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t take over my independence.”
He turned to face her.
“I fell in love with your strength.”
She smiled softly.
“Then let me keep it.”
“I will.”
He kissed her forehead gently.
“And if you ever feel suffocated again…”
“I’ll tell you.”
“And I’ll listen.”
She wrapped her arms around him.
“This baby is lucky.”
“Why?”
“To have a father who panics over stairs.”
He laughed quietly.
“Don’t mock me.”
“I adore you.”
His expression softened deeply.
“I adore you more.”
She rested her head against his chest.
And for the first time since the pregnancy began—
His protection didn’t feel like fear.
It felt like partnership.
He wasn’t guarding something fragile.
He was walking beside something strong.
And that changed everything.