22. Chapter 22

Chapter twenty-two

Present

A fter the film ends, I gently switch off the TV and glance down at Laelia, noticing that she’s fast asleep. She must have drifted off within the first fifteen minutes of the movie, but I’m not surprised. She hasn’t eaten much today, and her energy seems to be at an all-time low. As I look at her peaceful face, my heart aches with worry. She’s been so tired lately, and with the baby on the way, I can't help but feel a growing sense of concern.

Slowly and carefully, I lift her legs off mine, making sure not to disturb her too much. As I stand up, I gently shake her awake, and she stirs ever so slightly, a soft fidget as if she's trying to cling to the last remnants of sleep. Her eyelids flutter, but they don’t fully open, and I can see the exhaustion etched into her features.

“Come on, beautiful,” I whisper tenderly. “Let me take you to bed.”

Even though she doesn’t open her eyes, she instinctively pulls herself up, extending her arms towards me in that sweet, trusting way she always does. My heart swells as I lean closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. I slide my arms under her, lifting her effortlessly. She feels so light, almost as if I’m holding a delicate feather. It worries me how easy it is to carry her. She used to be stronger, more robust.

I can’t help but worry, though. It seems like she’s been getting thinner these past few weeks, and that concerns me deeply. She’s pregnant, and she should be taking extra care of herself, but I fear that the stress of work is weighing heavily on her, taking a toll on her health. The thought that she might not be looking after herself as she should makes my chest tighten with concern. I know how much this baby means to her—means to both of us—and I want nothing more than to protect them both. But lately, she’s been so focused on everything else, I’m afraid she’s neglecting her own needs.

As we enter the bedroom, I gently lay her down on her side of the bed. The duvet, which I didn’t bother making this morning, lies rumpled, but I carefully pull it up over her, tucking her in as best I can. She snuggles deeper into the bed, pulling the duvet close around her, as if seeking comfort in its warmth.

Watching her like this, so peaceful, I can’t resist leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She hums in her sleep, a sweet, content sound, but she doesn’t stir. A smile tugs at my lips, and I silently hope that she’ll feel a little better in the morning. If not, I’ve already made up my mind—I’m calling our doctor and getting her an appointment, whether she agrees or not. Her safety and well-being come first, always. I can’t afford to take any chances, not with her and our baby’s health on the line. She might protest, telling me not to worry, but I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I’ve noticed how her appetite has dwindled, how she seems to be growing more fragile each day. It’s like she’s fading right in front of me, and it terrifies me.

As I’m lost in thought, a light meow breaks the silence. Meatball, our mischievous little cat, trots into the room and leaps onto the bed, fixing me with a knowing stare.

“Have you come to look after Mommy?” I ask softly, knowing full well the answer. Instead of responding, he pads over to Laelia’s feet and curls up beside them, closing his eyes almost immediately. It’s like he knows she needs extra care right now, too.

As much as he’s a little rascal, I’m grateful that he adores Laelia. He can keep her company when I’m not around, offering her the quiet, comforting presence that only a cat can. And in some strange way, it’s like he understands that she needs him now more than ever. It’s a relief to know she won’t be completely alone, even if it’s just our small, furry friend by her side.

With a final glance at Laelia, I quietly slip out of the room, gently closing the door behind me. I make my way downstairs, my mind still on her as I enter the living room. I start tidying up, folding the blankets we used and fluffing the pillows back into place. I pick up Laelia’s glass of water and take it into the kitchen, rinsing it and setting it on the drying rack.

Laelia hates a messy house; everything has to be in its place, clean and orderly. Our home always looks like a show home, thanks to her meticulous nature. But with her feeling unwell, I know she won’t have the energy to keep things as spotless as she likes. The least I can do is try to maintain some semblance of tidiness, to prevent her from stressing over any mess I might leave behind. I want her to come downstairs to a clean, calm space, not something that will add to her worries.

As I walk back into the living room, I accidentally knock a photo frame off one of the side tables. It hits the floor with a crash, the glass shattering.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, hurrying back into the kitchen to grab the dustpan and brush. I also fetch the vacuum to make sure I get every tiny shard.

Returning to the living room, I carefully pick up the frame and the photo within. It’s a picture of us from my mum’s wedding earlier this year. Laelia is standing beside me in that elegant green dress, both of us smiling brightly at the camera. The day was perfect, filled with love and laughter. It was also the day I told my mom about my plans to propose to Laelia.

As I look at the photo, my heart swells with emotion. I can’t wait for the day when I’ll see her walking down the aisle in her stunning white dress. I already know I won’t be able to hold back my tears when I realise that I’m about to marry the most perfect woman in the world. I want our baby to see that photo one day and know just how much love was in our hearts, even before they were born. But for now, I’ll settle for making sure Laelia is safe, healthy, and loved more than anything else in this world.