Bloodlines
907 Words
POV: Kiara Williams
Hospitals are strange places.
Too quiet. Too sterile. Too good at reminding you that you're not in control of anything not your body, not your life, and definitely not your heart.
I woke to the soft hum of machines and the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor. My limbs felt heavy. My head, like it was packed with fog. It took me a moment to remember where I was… and why.
Then it hit me all over again.
I had fainted in the cafe where I met my family lawyer.
One moment, I was staring at the contract that destroyed everything, the next, the world had gone black.
I winced as I sat up slowly, and a nurse entered with a calm smile.
“You gave everyone a bit of a scare,” she said kindly, checking the monitors. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was hit by a freight train,” I muttered.
She chuckled softly. “The doctor will be in shortly. Try to rest.”
I nodded. But rest was the last thing on my mind.
---
A short while later, Dr. Fraser, my family’s long-time physician entered with her familiar, composed expression. But today, there was something else in her eyes. Worry. Hesitation.
“Kiara,” she said, sitting at my bedside. “We ran a few tests while you were unconscious. Nothing invasive.”
She paused. My fingers gripped the blanket.
“There’s something you need to know,” she continued. “You’re pregnant. About two weeks.”
I stared at her. The words didn’t register at first.
“What?”
She reached for my hand. “We confirmed it with bloodwork and a scan. The stress likely triggered your collapse, but the baby appears stable.”
My entire body went cold. A child. Zayn’s child.
I thought back to that night by the fire, heated, reckless, raw. One moment of passion in a storm of betrayal. And now… this.
A thousand thoughts crashed into each other.
What would I do?
Should I tell him?
Could I raise a child on my own?
“I’m not asking for your decision now,” Dr. Fraser said gently. “But I strongly advise rest and avoiding emotional strain.”
Too late for that.
She left me alone with the silence and the hollow ache beneath my ribs.
I placed a hand against my stomach, still flat and innocent of the life now growing inside me.
“I don’t know how to protect you,” I whispered. “But I will try.”
---
POV Shift: Ava Collins
Zayn Malik’s penthouse was exactly what I expected, sleek, sharp, and cold.
The housekeeper let me in after verifying my identity. “Miss Collins, you have twenty minutes.”
I nodded, heading straight upstairs to Kiara’s bedroom. She’d asked me to collect a few personal items, her journal, some clothes, a necklace her mother had given her.
I wasn’t expecting to see him.
Zayn Malik sat in the downstairs lounge like a king on a high-backed throne, shirt sleeves rolled, tie loose around his neck, a glass of scotch in his hand. His eyes lifted as I passed the landing.
“What are you doing here?” he asked flatly.
I hesitated at the railing.
“I came to pick up some things for Kiara.”
“She can’t come herself?”
“She’s in the hospital,” I snapped, instantly regretting my tone.
His brow didn’t move. “Stress from the divorce?”
“She nearly fainted. Her lawyer called an ambulance.”
No reaction. God, this man was stone.
I turned to leave, then paused. “She’s not just sick, you know.”
He didn’t respond. Just sipped his drink.
“She needs special care now,” I added. “Because of the baby.”
Silence. Total, terrifying silence.
Zayn froze, the glass halfway to his lips. He lowered it slowly, his expression finally breaking—just a c***k. His jaw flexed. His fingers tightened around the crystal glass.
“What did you just say?”
I blinked, suddenly aware of what I'd just revealed. “She didn’t tell you?”
Zayn stood slowly, every movement deliberate and lethal.
“Kiara’s… pregnant?”
I swallowed. “Two weeks. The doctor said stress could affect the baby. She didn’t want you to know.”
His eyes darkened. A storm is gathering.
“Get out,” he said.
“Zayn—”
“I said get out.”
I turned without another word, my heart pounding. Behind me, Zayn stood in the center of the room, breathing hard, glass forgotten in his hand.
The devil had just found out he was a father.
And hell was about to follow.
---
POV Shift: Zayn Malik
I didn’t move for a long time.
My mind was a battlefield. My chest was a riot of emotion I didn’t recognize—rage, disbelief, something dangerously close to panic.
Kaira didn’t tell me. She had my child inside her, and she hadn’t told me. And she thought I wouldn’t find out?
That she could just walk away and raise my blood like I didn’t exist? My fingers flexed. Shook.
No.
This wasn’t over. She thought the divorce was the end of the war.
She had no idea. I don't want to have my blood mixed with those criminals. "I will make sure she aborts that child."
- Writer
