Aria woke with tears on her cheeks.
The room was dim, washed in the soft gray of early dawn. Light crept through the cracks in the curtains, painting thin slivers across the sheets. For a moment, she did not know where she was. Her breathing came fast and uneven, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Her hands clutched at the blankets without understanding why, a reflex born from the fear lingering in her bones.
She felt it.
Not the memory of the dream, but the shadow of it. An echo of something that slipped away the moment she opened her eyes.
A voice.
A feeling.
A warning.
Something she could not name.
"Aria?"
Luca’s voice came from beside her.
She turned her head. He was already awake, sitting upright against the headboard, his arm still beneath her shoulders where he had held her through the night. He looked exhausted, but the moment he saw her tears, exhaustion vanished from his face.
He leaned toward her instantly, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye.
"What happened?" he asked.
Aria shook her head helplessly. "I do not know."
He frowned. "You are crying."
"I know."
"Did something hurt? Was it your stomach? Did you feel—"
"No." Her voice trembled. "I do not know why I am crying."
Luca exhaled slowly, but the tension did not leave his body. He brought her closer, guiding her gently into his chest. She let herself fall into him, her cheek pressed over his heartbeat. His arms wrapped around her instantly, strong and grounding.
"Come here," he whispered.
Aria breathed in the familiar scent of him, warm and steady, but the tears kept falling. Her hands fisted lightly in his shirt as she tried to steady her lungs.
"Tell me what you felt," he said softly.
"I do not know," she whispered, her voice thick. "It felt important. Like something was happening or someone was calling me. But when I woke up, it was gone."
He kissed the top of her head. "It was just a dream."
"It did not feel like one."
Her breath shuddered again.
"It felt like something was... missing," she whispered. "But I do not know what."
Luca’s arms tightened around her.
"Nothing is missing," he said. "You are safe. The baby is safe."
She nodded weakly. "I know. But when I opened my eyes, it felt like I could not breathe."
His grip around her became fierce.
"You are breathing now," he said quietly.
The small tremor in his voice made her eyes soften. She lifted her hand to his cheek. "I am sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said firmly. "Fear does not need a reason."
She pressed her forehead to his chest. "I do not like waking up like this."
"I do not like seeing you like this," he replied softly.
She inhaled slowly, the panic fading under the rhythm of his breathing. Luca continued stroking her back in slow, soothing motions.
"Are you in pain?" he asked after a moment.
"No. Just shaken."
"And the baby?"
She placed her hand on her stomach, feeling the slight shift beneath her palm. "She is quiet right now."
Luca covered her hand with his own. "Good."
He gently tilted her chin up so that she looked at him. Her lashes were damp, her eyes wide and vulnerable. His expression softened instantly.
"You do not cry in your sleep," he said. "Whatever you dreamed frightened you."
Aria nodded slowly.
"But you do not face fear alone," he said. "Not anymore."
Her breath caught, and she leaned into the soft kiss he pressed to her forehead.
"You look fragile when you cry," he murmured.
She gave a faint laugh. "Most people do."
"Not you," he said. "You look like you are breaking my heart."
She closed her eyes. The emotion in his voice drew a warmth to her chest and eased the ache in her lungs. He brushed another tear from her cheek and kissed her softly. Slow. Reassuring.
"Tell me what you remember," he whispered.
"Nothing," she said. "Just the fear."
He held her face in both hands. "Dreams are tricks of the mind. They do not change reality."
She nodded, but the uneasy feeling still lingered.
Luca sensed it.
He slipped his arm under her and gently lowered her back against the pillows. She winced slightly, her body still sensitive from the night before. Pain flickered briefly in her abdomen. Luca reacted instantly.
"Do not move," he said.
"It was just from sitting up too fast," she said.
"I do not care what caused it. You do not move unless I say you can."
She met his eyes, seeing the intensity that had not left him since the doctor’s warning.
"Luca, I cannot lie here feeling helpless."
"You can," he said, soft but firm. "You will. Until the doctor says otherwise."
She fought an instinct to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. His fear was not irrational. It was rooted in last night’s pain, in the way she had nearly collapsed, and in the risk hanging above them.
"You cannot protect me from a dream," she whispered.
"I can protect you from everything else," he said.
Her breath trembled. "I do not want you to exhaust yourself."
"I am not tired," he lied.
She touched his cheek again. "You have not slept."
"I was watching you breathe," he admitted.
Her chest warmed painfully. "Luca..."
"I do not care how it sounds," he said. "You were in pain yesterday. Real pain. I cannot watch you slip away, not even for a second."
She blinked back fresh tears. "You will not lose me."
He leaned down, kissing her temple. "I refuse to take chances."
Her hand slid over his, resting against her belly. He instantly covered it with his own.
"We will be parents," she whispered.
His eyes softened. "Yes."
"And she needs you calm," Aria added gently.
He gave a humorless smile. "Then she is asking the impossible."
Aria laughed softly, the sound easing the tension between them.
Luca kissed her again, gently but with an intensity that told her how deeply the dream, the fear, and the night before had shaken him.
"You feel like something is going to happen," he said quietly.
"I do not know," she whispered. "Just a feeling."
He rested his forehead against hers. "Feelings do not decide our fate. I do."
She nodded, letting herself relax into him.
Luca stayed beside her, arms wrapped around her, his hand resting protectively over her stomach. Her breathing softened, becoming steady once more. The dream still sat like a shadow at the edge of her mind, but Luca’s warmth kept it at bay.
Slowly, Aria drifted back to sleep.
Luca did not.
He held her, alert even in the silence, his gaze fixed on the door as if daring anything in the world to come for her.
Nothing would touch his wife.
Nothing would come near his unborn child.
Not while he lived and breathed.
Not ever.