Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Lana

Lying on the examination bed, I”m a cocktail of annoyance and raging hormones. The room”s too bright, too clinical, and the ultrasound gel? Cold as hell against my skin, making me shiver and clench my teeth. I”m holding my breath, not out of anticipation, but because I”m trying not to snap at the next person who speaks to me in that overly calm, soothing tone.

Then, a knock at the door cuts through my silent tirade.

”Come in,” the doctor says, not looking up from her preparations. She”s in her mid-forties, with kind eyes magnified behind glasses that keep slipping down her nose. Her hair is pulled back in a practical ponytail, a few strands rebelling against the restraint.

The door swings open, and in walks Luca. Of course, Luca.

The doctor pauses, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and caution. ”And you are?”

Luca doesn”t miss a beat. ”I”m the father of the baby. Sorry, I”m late.”

At that, despite myself, a smile finds its way onto my face. Sassy retorts and hormonal irritations aside, Luca has this knack for disarming me.

The doctor, satisfied with the introduction or perhaps choosing to not question it further, turns her attention back to the task at hand. She starts moving the scanner across my belly, the image of our baby flickering to life on the screen beside us.

Luca makes his way over, his presence a sudden source of calm in the sterile room. He takes my hand in his, a gesture so full of hope and fear it almost undoes me. His touch is warm, grounding.

As the doctor works, narrating the landmarks of our baby”s tiny form on the monitor, the reality of it all sinks in. There”s a baby. Our baby. Growing inside me, oblivious to the chaos of the world it”s about to inherit.

Luca”s thumb rubs small circles on the back of my hand. I”m suddenly, overwhelmingly grateful for his presence.

The doctor”s voice cuts through the silence, clinical yet edged with a hint of skepticism. ”So, you”ve slipped and fell while showering, is that right?”

I clear my throat, nodding. ”Yes, that”s right,” I manage, the lie sitting uncomfortably on my tongue. I add quickly, ”I just want to make sure my baby is okay.”

The doctor”s gaze lingers on mine for a moment longer than comfortable, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she returns her attention to the ultrasound screen, her movements deliberate as she continues the examination.

The room falls silent again.

I hold my breath, watching the doctor”s face for any sign, any hint of how the baby is doing. The seconds stretch into eternity, each one heavier than the last.

Then, breaking the silence, comes the rapid, rhythmic sound we”ve been waiting for—the baby”s heartbeat. Strong and clear, it fills the room.

Relief washes over me, so intense it”s almost physical. I exhale, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. ”That”s our baby,” I say, turning to Luca, my eyes shining with tears I refuse to let fall.

Luca”s smile mirrors my own, a mixture of relief and awe. ”Our baby,” he echoes.

The doctor finally looks up from the screen, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. ”Everything looks fine. The baby seems to be doing well, despite the scare.”

”Thank you,” I breathe out.

As the doctor hands me a wipe and excuses herself, leaving us a semblance of privacy in the sterile room, Luca takes over with a tenderness that surprises me every time. He cleans the cold gel off my belly gently.

I watch him, this complex man who”s stood by me through the storms and the calm, and find my heart swelling with an emotion too big to name. It”s in these quiet moments that I see him clearly—not just the tough exterior, but the man beneath who cares, truly cares.

”Thanks for showing up,” I say, our eyes locking.

Luca looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and in them, I see a reflection of my own tumultuous feelings—fear, hope, determination. ”I wouldn”t be anywhere else,” he replies.

In that moment, with his hand still on my skin and the world outside waiting to crash down on us again, I allow myself a moment of vulnerability. ”I know,” I admit, letting the walls I”ve built around my heart crack just a bit. ”And I”m glad you”re here.”

Just as I’m about to swing my legs off the bed, ready to face the world outside with its endless complications, a sudden flutter against my belly makes me pause. It”s like a secret handshake, a tiny rebellion from the life we’ve created, making its presence known. ”Did you feel that?” I gasp, my annoyance at the cold gel, the hospital, and the whole damn situation dissolving into wonder.

Luca’s hand freezes on my skin, his eyes wide with anticipation. ”Feel what?” His voice is a mix of excitement and a dash of confusion, the kind you see in kids when you tell them there’s no school on a snow day.

”Wait for it,” I whisper, a grin spreading across my face. The seconds tick by, heavy with expectation, and then—there it is again. A kick, unmistakable this time, a little hi-five from our baby saying, ”Hey, I’m here too, you know.”

Luca’s laugh, a sound that”s become my favorite melody, fills the room. ”I felt that! He just kicked!”

”He?” I raise an eyebrow, my sassy side surfacing with a smirk. ”Don’t be so sure. Could be a little kickboxing championette in there.”

Luca grins, a challenge sparking in his eyes. ”Oh? Betting against me already?”

I can”t help the laugh that bubbles up. ”Always,” I quip, the atmosphere between us light and sparking with playful banter. ”Let’s just wait and see who’s buying dinner when the time comes.”

”Deal,” Luca agrees, his hand still lingering on my belly as if waiting for another sign from our tiny rebel. ”But either way, this kid’s going to be a fighter. Got the best of both worlds.”

”True,” I concede, leaning into his touch, the moment softening around the edges. ”A perfect mix.”

The laughter fades, a shadow crossing my thoughts. The weight of our reality, the dangers that lurk just beyond the safety of this hospital room, presses in. I find myself voicing a fear I”ve kept buried deep, a whisper of doubt that chills the warmth between us. ”Luca, have you ever thought... maybe it would be safer if... if we gave the baby up for adoption? To keep them safe from... all of this?”

Luca”s expression shifts, the joy of moments ago replaced by a depth of understanding that only someone who”s lived through our kind of storm could offer. ”Lana, I know you”re scared. I am too. But think about it—”

The baby kicks again. It”s as if our unborn child is listening, casting their vote to stay with us, to fight alongside us.

I continue, the words spilling out with a mix of fear and resolve. ”If someone can get into our house to hurt me, they’d probably track down our baby too. It”s better to keep them close, to raise them to be so ferocious that they can protect themselves.”

Luca nods, his grip on my hand tightening. ”Exactly. We”ll teach them, protect them. They”ll have us, Lana. And we”re not just anyone; we”re their parents. We”ll make sure they”re strong, smart... ferocious, even.”

His words, sincere and filled with an unwavering commitment, bolster my resolve. The idea of parting with our child, once a fleeting thought born of fear, now seems unimaginable. This baby, our baby, belongs with us, despite the dangers that our life entails.

With Luca”s help, I pull myself back together.

As if sensing my need for a shift, Luca leans in, a mischievous glint in his eye. ”You know, if our kid inherits your stubbornness, we”re in for quite the ride.”

I can”t help but snort, the tension easing as I shoot back, ”Oh, as if your flair for dramatic entrances is any less of a trait to worry about.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and grounding. Closing the distance between us, he places his hand gently on my cheek, his touch soft but filled with an intensity that sends my heart racing. ”Well, then,” he says, his voice dropping to a more flirtatious tone, ”I guess we”ll just have to teach them the art of the dramatic exit. Starting with how to make their mom blush on cue.”

The air between us crackles with a playful yet palpable energy. I roll my eyes, but the affection in my gesture is unmistakable. ”As if I”d ever fall for such an obvious ploy.”

His response is a grin, one that promises both challenge and reward. ”Oh, you fall for it every time.”

Before I can retort, Luca pulls me in, the space between us disappearing as his lips meet mine.

His grin grows wider as he pulls me closer, one hand now sliding up my spine to cup the back of my head. His other hand slips down my waist, tracing the curve of my hip before pressing against the seam of my jeans. “I missed you.” he says.

He starts kissing down my neck.

“Luca… We can’t do it here. What if the doctor walks in?”

Luca chuckles, a wicked smile playing on his lips. ”Then we”ll have to make it quick,” he whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I can”t help but laugh, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. ”You”re so bad,” I protest, but my words are lost in another kiss.

His hands move up to my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. They”re full of heat and need, making it hard for me to think clearly. ”We both know you like it when I”m bad.”

But before the heat between us could ignite further, the door creaks open, a figure stepping into the room. We break apart, our breathing ragged as we hastily straighten our disheveled selves. The guard”s eyes flit between us, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

”I hope I”m not interrupting anything important,” he says with a playful tone, though his eyes betray a hint of mischief. ”Just making sure everything”s alright here.”

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, shooting a quick glance at Luca whose grin refuses to fade. ”Everything”s fine, thank you,” I manage to say, trying to sound composed despite the lingering traces of desire in my voice.

The guard chuckles knowingly, his gaze lingering on us for a moment longer before he nods and exits the room, leaving us alone once more. I let out a shaky breath, my heart still racing from the close call.

“We’ll continue this later.” I say.

Luca’s eyes sparkle with a mixture of mischief and longing as he nods in agreement. “Count on it,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. I watch him for a moment, his tousled hair and crooked smile making my resolve waver ever so slightly.

For a moment, I just watch him, taking in the tousled hair that looks like it”s seen its fair share of running hands through it, probably mine. His smile, so effortlessly crooked, seems to hold a world of stories we”re yet to tell. Every part of him, from his steady gaze to the way he stands—poised yet relaxed—makes my resolve waver, my heart yearning for more time wrapped up in this bubble we”ve created.

But reality waits for no one, not even for two people stealing moments of peace in a chaotic world. With a deep breath, I slide off the stretcher, my movements slow, not quite ready to let go of the tranquility we”ve found here. Luca extends his hand, a silent offer of support I take without a second thought.

Together, we leave the hospital room, stepping out into the corridor that”s suddenly too bright, too real. The sounds of the hospital—footsteps, distant conversations, the occasional beep of machinery—filter back in, pulling us further from our secluded haven.

However, as I start the process, a sudden realization slices through the fog of contentment: Julia is missing.

Panic, a cold and unwelcome guest, begins to coil in my stomach. I call her, once, twice, thrice, each attempt met with the deafening silence of an unanswered ring. My concern deepens, morphing into fear with each passing second.

That”s when I see it: Julia”s handbag, discarded carelessly on the floor in a quiet corner of the hallway. My heart skips a beat. Julia, with her meticulous ways and guarded nature, would never leave her belongings unattended without cause. Something is wrong, very wrong.

Approaching the bag, I notice it”s not just abandoned but seemingly ransacked, its contents strewn about. The sight sends a shiver down my spine, a primal alarm that something sinister is at play. Lipstick, keys, a small notebook—each item a fragment of Julia, left behind like a macabre trail of breadcrumbs.

I follow the trail, my steps quickening as the dread builds, each item discarded on the floor amplifying my fear. The path leads me to an emergency exit, the door ajar, an ominous invitation to step into the unknown.

My heart pounds against my ribs, a relentless drum of war as I push the door open, the cool rush of outside air hitting my face. The threshold crosses, I step into the dimly lit alleyway, the hospital”s fluorescent brightness giving way to shadows that twist and stretch with a life of their own.

The alley is silent, the kind of silence that screams danger, that heightens every sense to the brink of madness. I pause, listening, straining my ears for any sound that might indicate where Julia—or whoever took her—might have gone.

My eyes catch on a piece of paper, stark against the grimy alley floor—a ransom note. The dread that”s been tightening its grip on my chest now explodes into full-blown terror. I snatch up the note, my hands trembling as I unfold it. The message is cut from various magazines, a cliché pulled straight from a thriller, but its contents send a chill down my spine.

”We have her. If you want to see her again, come alone. No police.”