32. Alyssa

CHAPTER 32

ALYSSA

" I 'm so sad I would die if I could, but I can't because I have this little baby I'm growing," I tell my friend, Rosalie, over a salad at lunch.

I looked her up after arriving on Luna. We had gone to graduate school together and I felt we could reconnect.

The IHC guard that is standing there - I know have an IHC Marine guarding me round the clock - gives me a side eye but doesn't say anything.

Rosalie leans forward, her brow furrowing. "Alyssa, honey, I don't get it. This guy lied to you, kidnapped you, and now you're pining for him?"

I push my salad around with my fork, avoiding her gaze. "It's not that simple, Rose."

"Enlighten me then," she challenges, crossing her arms.

I sigh, setting down my fork. "Maar... he's complicated. Yes, he lied, but he also saved my life. Multiple times."

"From danger he put you in," Rosalie points out.

"Not entirely," I counter. "The Fist was after me before he even entered the picture. My father's dealings?—"

"Your father's an admiral," Rosalie interrupts. "He wouldn't?—"

"You'd be surprised," I mutter. The IHC guard shifts uncomfortably behind me.

Rosalie leans back, studying me. "Okay, let's say I buy that. He still deceived you, Alyssa. How can you trust anything he says or does?"

I rest a hand on my slightly swollen belly. "Because I've seen who he really is, Rose. When we were on Glimner, living day to day... I saw a man trying to make amends, trying to protect me at all costs."

"Stockholm syndrome," Rosalie suggests, not unkindly.

I shake my head. "No, it's more than that. It's... have you ever heard of jalsaghar?"

Rosalie's eyebrows shoot up. "The Vakutan soulmate thing? Alyssa, come on."

"I'm serious," I insist. "When we kissed, it was like... like the universe aligned. I can't explain it, but I felt it. And I know he did too."

Rosalie reaches across the table, taking my hand. "Sweetie, I'm worried about you. This man, this criminal?—"

"Ex-criminal," I correct.

"Whatever. He was dangerous. And now you're carrying his child? What kind of life is that? You should be glad he's dead."

I hold my tongue. I know the guard can hear me. I can't let anyone know that Maar is still alive.

I carry the memory of Maar through my day. Through my weeks.

I stand at the viewing port, my forehead pressed against the cold glass as I gaze out at the vast expanse of stars. Luna's domes stretch out beneath me, a network of artificial habitats clinging to the moon's barren surface. The Earth hangs heavy and blue in the sky, a constant reminder of how far I am from home.

"Ms. Dash, it's time for your prenatal checkup," the IHC guard's voice breaks through my reverie.

I turn, forcing a smile. "Of course. Wouldn't want to keep the doctor waiting."

Days blur into weeks, into months. I find myself back at that same window more often than not, searching the stars for some sign of Maar. The baby grows within me, a constant reminder of what I've lost and what I still have to look forward to.

"You're looking a bit pale, Alyssa," Rosalie comments during one of her visits. "Have you been eating enough?"

I shrug, picking at my food. "The replicators here just can't get the taste right."

"It's not the food, is it?" she asks softly.

I shake my head, unable to voice the ache in my chest.

As my due date approaches, the excitement I should feel is tempered by a profound sadness. I want Maar here, to share in this moment, to hold my hand as our child enters the world. Each passing day brings a mixture of anticipation and heartache. I find myself absentmindedly rubbing my swollen belly, imagining Maar's strong hands there instead of my own. The nursery is ready, painted in soft hues of green and yellow, but it feels incomplete without him. At night, I whisper to our unborn child about their father, hoping that somehow, across the vast expanse of space, Maar can sense the life we've created together. The thought of facing labor alone terrifies me, but I draw strength from the knowledge that a part of him will soon be in my arms.

The labor is long and difficult. I cry out, not just from the pain, but from the loneliness that threatens to overwhelm me.

"One more push, Ms. Dash," the doctor encourages.

With a final, herculean effort, I bring our son into the world. The pain fades away as I hear his first cry, strong and defiant. The moment they place him in my arms, everything changes. The universe narrows to this perfect, tiny being.

"Hello, little one," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. I trace his delicate features with a trembling finger, marveling at the miracle I'm holding. His eyes, still unfocused, are unmistakably Maar's - that unique shade I'd recognize anywhere. "You look just like your daddy," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, inhaling that newborn scent. "He'd be so proud of you, my brave little warrior."

For the first time in months, I feel a spark of genuine joy. This tiny being, half me and half Maar, represents hope. A future I never thought possible.

"What will you name him?" the nurse asks.

I smile, tracing my finger along his tiny cheek. "Laar," I say softly. "In honor of a dear friend of mine."