Chapter 4
1247 Words
Adrien caught her before she hit the floor.
Her body sagged against him, warm but frighteningly limp. His heart lurched in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest.
“Camille,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Open your eyes.”
She didn’t.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t waste another second. He carried her to the worn-out sofa, laid her gently down, and checked her pulse with steady hands.
It was there.
Racing, but strong.
His breath released in a slow, shaky exhale he didn’t expect.
He sat beside her, watching her chest rise and fall. Her apartment was too small, too cold, too dark for someone like her. Someone fragile. Someone who shouldn’t be living like this.
Someone who made his heartbeat feel unsteady.
He pressed his palms together, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t a man who panicked. But tonight had shaken him in ways he couldn’t explain.
After a few minutes, she stirred.
“Camille,” he said softly.
Her eyelashes fluttered before her eyes opened slowly, clouded with confusion. She blinked up at him like she wasn’t sure he was real.
“You fainted,” he said gently.
She tried to sit up, but he placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “Easy.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t.
“You’re not,” he said calmly. “And lying isn’t helping either of us.”
Her eyes flicked away, ashamed.
Adrien reached for the glass of water on her table; half-full, dusty rim. He set it aside and grabbed a clean cup from her cupboard, filling it from her small filter jug.
He handed it to her.
Camille hesitated.
Then took it.
She sipped slowly, her hands trembling.
Adrien watched her carefully, eyes tracing every sign her body betrayed: her pallor, her shallow breath, the uneasy way she held her stomach without thinking.
“Do you faint often?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you get dizzy often?”
“No.”
“Have you eaten today?”
She froze.
Her silence answered for her.
He inhaled sharply. “Camille…”
“I’m not hungry,” she said quickly.
“You didn’t eat.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t lecture me.”
He leaned back a little, studying her with an intensity that made her chest tighten.
“I’m not here to lecture you,” he said. “But I’m not here to look away either. Something is wrong.”
Her jaw clenched.
“Is it because of that night?” he asked quietly.
Her head jerked up. “What night?”
He didn’t let her deflect.
“The first one.”
Her breath shook.
Her fingers gripped the blanket.
Adrien’s voice softened.
“You remember it.”
Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Damning.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered.
“You need to.”
“No.”
He studied her face, reading every flicker of fear.
“Camille…” He leaned closer, voice low. “You weren’t drunk. You weren’t confused. You said yes. More than once.”
Her eyes filled with tears she fought to hold back.
“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why it’s worse.”
“Why?” he murmured.
She shook her head quickly. “Please don’t make me explain.”
But he wouldn’t let go of this. He couldn’t.
“Because you regret it?” he asked.
Her lips trembled. “No.”
The admission hung in the air between them like a secret neither of them was prepared to face.
“No,” she repeated, voice breaking. “I don’t regret it. That’s the problem.”
Adrien exhaled slowly, something softening inside him.
He reached for her hand.
She snatched it away.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t sit here and pretend any of this makes sense. You came into my life like a storm I didn’t ask for. I met you once and I’ve been trying to forget it ever since. And tonight - - ”
She cut herself off as another wave of nausea twisted through her.
Adrien saw it immediately.
“Camille,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
She didn’t.
Her hand drifted to her stomach again, unconsciously, as if her body moved before her mind agreed.
Adrien followed the movement with slow awareness.
That was twice.
Twice in the same night.
A quiet realization stirred inside him.
It was premature.
But possible.
Dangerously possible.
“Camille,” he said again, more slowly this time. “Why do you keep holding your stomach?”
Her breath caught.
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“You are.”
“I don’t know - I’m just tired.”
“No.” His voice dropped, gentle but firm. “It’s more than that.”
Her eyes widened, panic flickering across her face.
“Adrien, please…”
He moved closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. He didn’t touch her, but the intensity of his presence made her breath falter.
His voice softened into something that terrified her.
“Are you pregnant?”
She froze.
Every muscle in her body locked.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Her eyes glossed with fear she couldn’t hide.
Adrien watched her, every heartbeat in him slowing, deepening, solidifying into something dangerous.
“Camille,” he whispered, barely breathing. “Tell me.”
Her throat bobbed. A tremor shook through her fingers.
She tried to stand, but her legs buckled.
Adrien caught her again, steadying her with both hands.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.
“I’m… I’m just tired,” she whispered.
“Look at me.”
She shook her head, tears spilling over.
He cupped her face with both hands, not possessive, not demanding… just steady.
“Camille,” he said in a voice so deep it broke something in her. “Are you carrying my child?”
Her breath hitched.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
And whispered the smallest answer in the world.
“I don’t know.”
Adrien’s entire world stilled.
Everything inside him tightened - fear, hope, disbelief, longing, confusion.
“Don’t lie to me,” he breathed.
“I’m not,” she cried softly. “I really don’t know. And I don’t want to know. Because knowing means dealing with everything I can’t handle right now.”
He held her face like he was afraid she would disappear again.
“Camille…”
Her tears fell harder.
“I don’t know if I’m pregnant,” she said, voice trembling. “But I’m late. And I’ve been dizzy. And sick. And…”
Her voice broke.
“And I’m scared.”
Adrien pulled back slightly, eyes dark, jaw clenched so tightly he could barely breathe.
He wasn’t used to fear.
He wasn’t used to helplessness.
He wasn’t used to wanting someone this much.
“Then we’re doing this together,” he said.
She shook her head violently. “No. You don’t understand…”
He cut her off, his voice low, deadly serious.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her heart slammed painfully.
And before she could respond, there was a sudden, sharp knock on her door.
Both of them froze.
Adrien straightened instantly, protective instinct flickering to life.
Camille’s eyes widened in horror.
She whispered one word:
“Please… don’t open it.”
- Writer
