Chapter 4
1058 Words
Amelia pov
A month into the IVF process, the changes were subtle but impossible to ignore.
My body felt like it wasn’t mine. One minute, I was fine. The next, I was crying over a toothpaste cap or staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering what I’d become. The hormones played tricks on me. My appetite was a mystery, constantly changing salty, then sweet, hot, and then cold. One time, i craved popcorn dipped in coffee.
I didn’t recognize myself anymore, and I was too tired to fight it.
Adrian didn’t hover. He was distant but respectful. Our paths crossed in polite silences, quick glances at the breakfast table, or a nod when we passed each other in the hall. He kept to his side of the penthouse. I kept to mine. The agreement was clear: no intimacy, no expectations, just the contract.
Still, sometimes I caught him watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Like he was trying to figure me out.
I didn’t know what that meant. Maybe he didn’t either.
---
That night, sleep evaded me again.
I tossed. Turned. Gave up.
The kitchen lights glowed dimly as I stepped in, barefoot and wrapped in my own hoodie. I was restless, hollow, and craving… something. Anything.
I opened the fridge and stared at its contents like it might speak to me. My eyes landed on a jar of spicy chips. Crunchy, salty, and perfectly wrong for 3 a.m. But I wanted them desperately. Only problem? The lid wouldn’t budge.
I grunted, twisting harder. Nothing.
And then, out of nowhere, the tears came. Hot, fast, ridiculous tears.
I stood there, shoulders hunched, sniffling in the cold light of the fridge. Crying over a jar. My life had become a series of absurd moments like this, and it was breaking me.
“Miss Taylor?”
His voice made me jump.
I turned around, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. Adrian stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his hair slightly tousled, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. He looked more human in the soft light—less like the cold billionaire I’d signed my soul to.
“You’re crying,” he said, stepping closer. Not accusing. Just… noticing.
I sniffled. “It’s this stupid jar. It won’t open. And I’m tired. And I can’t sleep. And everything is just”
I broke off with a hiccup, too embarrassed to finish.
Adrian didn’t laugh. He didn’t offer hollow comfort or try to analyze me. He just walked over and gently took the jar from my hands.
With a quiet pop, the lid twisted open.
I blinked at him. “Show-off.”
His mouth twitched. “It’s just a jar.”
He handed it back to me. I stared down at the open container like it held the cure to my emotions.
Then, he surprised me.
“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he said softly. “If it happens again, wake me. Even if it’s just a jar.”
My breath caught.
It was the first time he’d said anything that sounded like care. Not duty. Not obligation. Just… human.
“Okay,” I whispered, voice cracking.
He nodded once, then turned and left, his presence fading down the hallway. But the moment stayed. Long after he disappeared, I stood in the quiet kitchen, jar in hand, heart doing something I didn’t have words for.
---
The Next Morning
Sunlight filtered through my curtains like a soft nudge. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on my stomach.
Today was the day.
The one that would change everything—or nothing at all.
I couldn’t eat. I tried forcing down some oatmeal, but my stomach turned halfway through. I nibbled a slice of apple instead, eyes fixed on the clock.
When Adrian entered the dining room, he moved with his usual calm, but something in his gaze lingered on me longer than usual.
“You alright?” he asked, tone unreadable.
I nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah. I'm just nervous.”
He didn’t press. But then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Is your mother still in the hospital?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “She’s still undergoing treatment. Chemo’s been hard on her.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “We’ll visit her. After the appointment.”
My lips parted in surprise. “Really?”
“She’s important to you,” he said simply. “That makes her important to this arrangement.”
Something in my chest fluttered. I didn’t trust it. But I didn’t reject it either.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
---
Later That Day
The doctor arrived just after noon, briefcase in hand, and expression neutral. I sat on the edge of the couch, Adrian beside me but not touching.
The silence stretched thin.
After the examination, blood work, and a lot of waiting, the doctor finally looked up.
His words were calm but they detonated inside the room.
“Congratulations, Mr. Smith. Your wife is pregnant.”
My vision swam.
I looked down at my hands, and at the way they shook. Pregnant.
Adrian was still as stone. And then…
He laughed.
It burst out of him, sudden and shocked. A sound I’d never heard from him before. Real. Joyful. Unfiltered.
“I’m going to be a father,” he said under his breath, almost like he didn’t believe it.
The doctor gave a nod, gathered his things, and left us alone.
I stayed seated, heart-pounding, hands trembling over my stomach.
Adrian walked back in moments later. His energy had shifted—less guarded, more alive.
He stopped in front of me, hesitated, then leaned down and gently kissed my forehead.
“Amelia,” he said softly, “thank you. You’ve just given me the one thing I never thought I’d have.”
I looked up, my chest tight with everything I didn’t know how to say.
“You’re welcome,” I breathed.
And then he added, voice lower, firmer, “From this moment on, everything changes.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but the way he said it made my heart skip.
Or maybe that was the baby already beginning to exist inside me.
Either way… nothing would ever be the same.
- Writer
