Chapter 51 Michael's Protective Mode Intensifies
1292 Words
The revelation of twins did something irreversible to Michael.
It was subtle at first—gentle, careful, the way he kept a hand on her lower back as they moved from the bedroom to the living room, as if guiding her away from invisible dangers. But within the hour, it evolved into something more… concentrated.
It was as if some primal instinct had snapped awake inside him.
He wasn’t just a loving husband anymore.
He was a guardian.
A shield.
A man whose entire world had suddenly expanded to include not one, but two fragile heartbeats he hadn’t even heard yet.
And Marnie felt every shift.
**The Doctor in Him Was Gone.
The Husband Took Over.**
“Sit down,” he said gently as she tried to stand to fix the bedsheets.
“I’m just going to fold—”
“No.”
His voice was soft, but firm enough to still her movement.
“I’ll do it. You need to stay off your feet for a bit.”
“Michael, I’m pregnant, not fragile.”
“You’re carrying two,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Your body is already working double.”
She sat down with a sigh. “This is going to be a very long pregnancy.”
He softened instantly and knelt on the floor in front of her, his hands gliding up her calves in a slow, soothing motion that made heat bloom beneath her skin.
“I just found out I’m going to be a father,” he said quietly. “Let me take care of you.”
The sincerity in his voice made her heart squeeze.
When he kissed her knee gently—barely a brush of his lips—she felt herself melt.
“Fine,” she murmured. “A little pampering won’t hurt.”
“It won’t,” he agreed. “And you’ll be getting a lot more than a little.”
**Protective Mode Stage 2:
The Kitchen Incident**
An hour later, she tried to prepare something simple—sliced apples, nothing more. She wasn’t even near the stove.
Michael appeared so fast it was almost comical.
“What are you doing?”
“Cutting fruit.”
“Absolutely not.”
She stared. “I’m not going to injure myself cutting an apple.”
“You might slip. Or get dizzy. Or the knife—”
She placed the knife down slowly. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” he corrected gently, taking her hand.
“I’m being careful.”
Then he kissed her palm, right where the knife handle had been.
Something warm and electric shot up her arm.
“Sit,” he said. “I’ll prepare everything.”
She huffed. “Am I allowed to breathe, or should I ask permission for that too?”
He smirked slightly, a rare playfulness softening his features.
“Breathing is acceptable. Anything else, we’ll discuss.”
She threw a kitchen towel at him.
He caught it.
Then tucked it neatly away because pregnant wives shouldn’t exert too much effort.
“Mikaaaael,” she groaned dramatically.
He leaned down and kissed her temple softly.
“I love you too,” he murmured.
She blushed so hard she had to look away.
**Protective Mode Stage 3:
The Elevator Situation**
Later that afternoon, they had to head down to the lobby to retrieve a parcel. A short trip. Nothing alarming.
Until a man bumped her shoulder lightly as he squeezed past them.
Marnie barely flinched.
Michael, however—
His arm shot around her waist instantly, pulling her against him with quiet intensity.
“Watch where you’re going,” he said to the stranger, voice calm but edged with steel.
The man looked startled. “Sorry, sir.”
Michael moved Marnie behind him, shielding her with his body until the elevator arrived.
“You okay?” he murmured once they stepped inside.
“Yes,” she said, amused. “It was just a bump.”
He didn’t smile.
Instead, he cupped her face gently and looked her over as if checking for injuries.
“You’re carrying my children,” he said. “No one touches you like that.”
Her breath caught.
The possessiveness in his voice wasn’t harsh or domineering.
It was warm.
Protective.
Grounded in fear and love.
She lifted a hand and touched his cheek.
“You’re taking this very seriously,” she whispered.
“I have every reason to.”
Then his voice dropped lower, gaze softening with a heat that made her heart flutter.
“You’re the mother of my children, Marnie.”
She swallowed hard.
He didn’t miss it.
The Moment His Fear Slipped Out
Back in the condo, after they settled on the couch, Michael finally let himself relax—just a little. His head leaned back, eyes closing, jaw tight.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
“Michael?” she whispered.
He opened his eyes slowly.
“You’ve been tense all day.”
His lips pressed together.
He didn’t deny it.
“I’m trying not to overwhelm you,” he said quietly. “I know I’m… intense.”
“You are,” she said honestly. “But I know it comes from love.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“I can’t lose any of you,” he whispered.
Her heart cracked.
“Hey…” She scooted closer until their knees touched. “You won’t.”
He looked away, jaw flexing. “Twins are high-risk.”
“And you’re a doctor,” she countered softly. “You know exactly what to do.”
“Knowing doesn’t erase fear.”
She took his hand, lacing their fingers together.
“You’re not doing this alone,” she whispered.
He looked at her slowly—really looked—and something in him softened, like she had just pulled a thorn straight from his chest.
He lifted her hand and kissed it gently.
“Can you… stay close tonight?” he murmured.
Her breath trembled. “Of course.”
“Good,” he whispered.
“Because I don’t think I can sleep unless I know you’re right beside me.”
The Night Tension Builds
That night, the air between them felt different—warmer, thicker, humming with something quiet but intense. Not lust. Not fully.
Something deeper.
A new kind of intimacy.
Marnie lay on her side, facing him. Their foreheads almost touched.
Michael’s hand rested on her waist—barely, gently, but with steady warmth.
Not asking for more.
Just needing to be close.
“When will it feel real to you?” she asked softly.
He looked at her with a small, fragile smile.
“When I hear their heartbeats.”
“And when will you stop worrying?”
“Never.”
She laughed softly. “I figured.”
His thumb brushed her hip through the fabric of her shirt—slow, soothing.
“Marnie,” he whispered suddenly.
“Yes?”
“If I get overprotective… tell me.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Because I don’t want to smother you.”
“You’re not,” she whispered, cheeks warming. “You make me feel… safe.”
His eyes softened.
Then darkened—just a little.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I intend to protect you every second of this pregnancy.”
Her heartbeat fluttered.
“And after?” she whispered.
His hand slid up, cupping her cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip gently.
“After,” he said in a low, warm murmur, “I’m never letting you go.”
Her breath hitched.
And he kissed her—
slow, deep, filled with love and a simmering intensity that promised their married life was about to grow even more complicated… and even more intimate.
- Writer
