Chapter 153 One Hundred And Fifty Three
One year later…
Morning light spilled softly into the bedroom, stretching across the neatly made bed and climbing slowly up the walls like a quiet whisper of a new day.
Antonia stirred beneath the covers, her brows knitting slightly as consciousness pulled her from sleep.
Something felt… off.
Not alarming.
Not painful.
Just… different.
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather herself.
Then it hit again.
A wave of fatigue.
Heavy.
Unusual.
She frowned slightly and shifted, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her hand moved instinctively to her forehead.
“I didn’t sleep that badly…” she murmured under her breath.
Beside her, Kennedy was already awake.
He stood near the dresser, adjusting the cuff of his shirt, his reflection sharp and composed in the mirror.
He glanced at her through it.
“Morning sweetheart.”
Antonia forced a small smile.
“Morning love.”
He noticed immediately.
The subtle hesitation.
The way her voice sounded just a little off.
“You okay?” he asked, turning toward her.
“Yes,” she said quickly.
Too quickly.
Kennedy raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, pushing the covers aside and standing up.
But the moment her feet touched the floor—
A slight dizziness hit her.
She paused.
Just for a second.
But it didn’t go unnoticed.
Kennedy stepped closer.
“Antonia—”
“I said I’m fine,” she cut in gently, offering him a reassuring smile.
“It’s probably just… tiredness.”
He studied her for a moment longer.
Then sighed softly.
“Alright.”
But his eyes still carried concern.
“I’ll be downstairs in a bit,” she added, already moving toward the bathroom.
“Okay.”
Kennedy watched her disappear through the door before turning back to finish getting ready.
Something wasn’t right.
But he chose not to push.
Not yet.
Downstairs, the house was already coming to life.
The faint sounds of their baby—now a lively toddler—echoed from the living room where his toys were scattered across the rug.
Antonia stepped into the kitchen, tying her robe tighter around her waist as she moved.
Routine.
That’s what she needed.
Something normal.
Something grounding.
She opened the fridge, pulling out eggs, milk, and a few other ingredients.
Her movements were automatic.
Familiar.
But her body still felt… off.
The fatigue lingered.
A strange heaviness in her limbs.
Still, she pushed through it.
Cracked the eggs.
Whisked them.
Set the pan on the stove.
The smell of cooking food slowly filled the kitchen.
Normally, it was comforting.
But today—
Something shifted.
A sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit her out of nowhere.
Antonia froze.
Her grip tightened on the counter.
“Oh…”
She swallowed hard, closing her eyes briefly.
“Not now…”
She forced herself to breathe through it.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
After a moment, the feeling eased.
Slightly.
Enough for her to continue.
She plated the food carefully, setting the table just as Kennedy walked in.
He glanced at her again.
Still watching.
Still noticing.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.
“I wanted to.”
He pulled out a chair and sat.
Their son babbled happily from his high chair, banging a spoon lightly against the tray.
Antonia smiled faintly at the sound, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
“Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”
Kennedy chuckled.
“He takes after you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. Always full of energy.”
Antonia laughed softly, though it felt slightly forced.
They began to eat.
For a while, everything felt almost normal.
Conversation light.
Simple.
Comfortable.
But Antonia barely touched her food.
The smell…
It was starting to bother her again.
Kennedy noticed.
“You’re not eating.”
“I will.”
“You said that five minutes ago.”
She picked up her fork.
“I’m just not very hungry.”
He frowned slightly.
“You’re never ‘not hungry’ when it comes to your own cooking.”
She smiled weakly.
“Maybe I’m just not feeling it today.”
He didn’t look convinced.
But before he could press further—
His phone buzzed.
Work.
He glanced at the screen and sighed.
“I have to go.”
Antonia nodded.
“Okay.”
He stood, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“Get some rest, alright?”
“I will.”
“And if you’re not feeling better—call me.”
She nodded again.
“I promise.”
He hesitated for a second longer.
Then left.
The moment the front door closed—
The silence settled in.
And with it—
The nausea returned.
Stronger this time.
Antonia barely had time to react.
She rushed toward the bathroom, one hand covering her mouth.
And then—
She threw up.
Her body trembling slightly as the wave passed through her.
When it finally subsided, she leaned against the sink, breathing heavily.
“What is going on…”
She splashed water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Pale.
Tired.
Confused.
Her mind began to race.
Food poisoning?
Stress?
A virus?
Then—
A thought.
Small.
But persistent.
Her brows slowly furrowed.
“…no.”
She shook her head immediately.
“No way.”
But the idea had already taken root.
Her heart began to beat faster.
Her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach.
Could it be?
She did a quick mental calculation.
Her cycle…
Her breath caught.
She hadn’t even noticed.
The days had blended together.
Busy.
Happy.
Full.
But now—
Now it hit her.
“I need to be sure.”
Twenty minutes later—
Antonia stood in the pharmacy aisle, staring at the shelf in front of her.
Rows of pregnancy test kits.
Her heart pounded loudly in her chest.
This felt surreal.
She reached out slowly, picking one.
Then another.
Just to be certain.
She paid quickly and returned home, her mind spinning the entire way.
Back in the bathroom, the small white box sat on the counter.
Antonia stared at it.
Her fingers trembling slightly.
“Okay…”
She took a deep breath.
“Let’s just do this.”
She followed the instructions carefully.
Every step precise.
Every second stretching longer than it should.
And then—
The waiting.
The longest few minutes of her life.
She paced.
Back and forth.
Her heart racing.
Her thoughts everywhere.
What if it’s nothing?
What if it is something?
What if—
The timer on her phone beeped.
Her breath caught.
Slowly—
She turned toward the counter.
The test lay there.
Still.
Silent.
Waiting.
Antonia stepped closer.
Her eyes scanned it carefully.
And then—
She saw it.