The estate softened under the evening light, the kind of quiet glow that made the world appear gentler than it truly was. Lamps flickered along the hallways, casting warm golden pools across the floors. Guards patrolled with quiet precision. The chaos of the day had settled but had not disappeared. It hung in the air like distant thunder, waiting for its moment to return.
Aria moved slowly toward their bedroom, one hand resting on her belly, the subtle curve that had become more pronounced these past weeks. The child inside her shifted softly, a reassuring flutter that usually calmed her.
Tonight, it did not.
A faint heaviness tugged at her lower abdomen. Not painful at first, but persistent. Wrong. The kind of wrong that stirred fear deep in her chest. She stopped at the doorway, inhaling carefully.
Maybe it was stress.Maybe fatigue.Maybe the weight of witnessing Luca fracture under betrayal.
She pressed a hand to the doorframe and steadied herself before walking inside. The bedroom was dim and quiet, the curtains dancing from the gentle breeze pushing through the cracked window. She unlaced her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.
Then the pain hit.
Sharp. Sudden. A wave that stole the breath from her lungs.
Aria doubled forward, palms pressed to her stomach, her breath shuddering as she tried to inhale. Her entire body tensed. The air felt too thin.
Not now.Please, not now.
As the pain spread, cold panic crawled up her spine. Her vision blurred for a moment. She gripped the blanket, knuckles white, swallowing a cry.
The door opened quietly behind her.
Luca stepped inside, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. But when he saw her posture, bent over with both hands clutching her belly, that exhaustion vanished.
"Aria?"
His voice was sharp. Alert.
She tried to look normal, to straighten up, but the second she lifted her head, another pulse of pain ripped through her. She winced, eyes squeezing shut.
Luca reached her in three strides.
"What is happening?" he demanded, kneeling in front of her.
She inhaled shakily. "It is probably nothing. Just a pain. It will pass."
He placed a hand on her knee, the other gently cupping her cheek.
"Aria. Look at me."
She forced her eyes open.
One look at her face, and Luca’s expression cracked open. Panic. Pure and unfiltered.
"Tell me where it hurts."
She pressed his hand to her lower abdomen. "Here."
His fingers froze, hovering gently over the curve of her stomach.
"How long?" he asked, voice tight.
"Just a few minutes," she whispered. "Maybe ten. I do not know."
Luca stood suddenly, his voice booming through the room.
"Nico!"
Aria flinched. "Luca, please. Do not alarm anyone. It is probably—"
He turned back to her with a look so fierce and desperate it silenced her instantly.
"You are carrying our child," he said. "Nothing about this is small."
Nico appeared in the doorway just as Aria doubled forward again, a soft cry escaping her lips.
Luca caught her before she slipped off the bed.
"Doctor," Luca said without taking his eyes off her. "Now."
Nico vanished.
Aria clutched Luca’s shirt, eyes wide and terrified. He pulled her into his arms, lowering her gently to the bed, his thumb brushing away the sweat forming along her hairline.
"Breathe," he whispered. "Stay with me."
Her breath trembled unevenly.
"I am trying."
"You are doing good," Luca murmured, voice cracking despite his effort to stay composed.
The door burst open again. The house doctor rushed in, carrying his medical bag. Nico stayed in the doorway like a guard dog, jaw clenched.
"Move," the doctor ordered.
Luca did not move.
"I am staying," he said.
The doctor nodded once. "Then stay out of my way."
Aria lay back as the doctor examined her, pressing gently along her abdomen, checking her pulse, and listening to her breathing. She winced with each touch.
Luca hovered at her side, his hand gripping hers like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.
After several tense moments, the doctor froze. His face tightened.
"Tell me what is wrong," Luca said.
Aria’s heart hammered. Luca’s grip tightened around hers.
The doctor lifted his eyes.
"She is showing signs of preterm distress," he said. "This can escalate quickly. She needs immediate rest, hydration, and monitoring. If the pain increases or if she bleeds, we take her to a hospital."
Aria’s breath caught.
Luca went pale.
"How serious?" he asked quietly.
"Serious," the doctor answered. "Second trimester complications can be unpredictable."
Luca’s chest rose sharply, as if someone had struck him.
Aria reached for him, her hand trembling. "Luca..."
He shook his head, not at her, but at the universe itself.
"No more losses," he whispered. "Not her. Not the baby."
His voice cracked on the last word.
The doctor continued his examination, asking questions and preparing a mild sedative and medication to calm the uterine tension. Aria clung to Luca’s hand through every touch, every spike of pain.
Luca leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers.
"You are going to be all right," he whispered. "I am right here."
Her voice trembled. "I am scared."
His throat tightened visibly. "Me too."
The doctor injected the medication gently into her arm.
Aria gasped softly, and then slowly, the sharp pain began to dull. Her breathing steadied.
The doctor exhaled. "The contraction has eased. But she needs to lie down for the rest of the night. No stress. No exertion. No surprises."
Luca’s jaw clenched.
"There will be none."
When the doctor finally stepped back, Luca brushed a strand of hair from Aria’s forehead, his fingers tender, trembling.
"I have you," he whispered. "I am here."
Her eyelids fluttered, exhaustion washing over her.
"Stay," she whispered.
"I will not leave you," he promised.
And he sat beside her, holding her hand, watching her breathe, terrified of what could have happened tonight.
Terrified of what could still happen.