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Chapter 103 – Damon's POV
"She Needed A Break, So I Gave Her One"
Arya had been strong through it all.
The swelling. The aches. The cravings that changed by the hour. The mood swings that could go from laughter to tears in 0.3 seconds.
But this week?
She was wearing down.
Her smiles didn't reach her eyes. She moved slower. She winced more. And the way she'd held her belly the night before like it was physically weighing her soul down… It told me what she wouldn't say out loud.
She needed a break.
So today, I was going to give her one.
No work. No stress. Just Arya.
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I woke up before her — a rare thing — and quietly slipped out of bed, leaving her snoring softly, curled like a comma on her side.
First mission: breakfast.
I didn't bother with fancy. I knew her tastebuds were on strike lately. So I whipped up simple buttery toast, sliced cold watermelon (her newest obsession), and made her favorite tea with honey and mint.
Next: ambiance.
I opened the curtains to let in the soft morning light, fluffed the couch cushions, and lit a vanilla-scented candle in the living room. The house smelled warm, soft, inviting.
When I returned to the bedroom, she was slowly stirring, frowning at the world.
"Hey," I said gently. "Rise and shine, sleepy queen."
Her eyes opened halfway. "Why do you sound suspiciously chipper?"
"Because today is Arya Day," I said, placing the tray beside her.
She blinked. "What?"
"No chores. No worries. No wild cravings unless you really want them. Just a full day of pampering."
"I don't need pampering," she grumbled.
I raised a brow. "Okay. Then you don't want the breakfast I made?"
She glanced at the tray and sat up instantly. "Okay maybe I need a little pampering."
---
After breakfast, I guided her to the living room where a soft massage pillow and a bowl of warm water for her feet were waiting.
"You're seriously doing the full spa thing?" she asked, a little amused.
"Yes," I said, rolling up her leggings. "Because you deserve it. And because I still owe you from that time you tried to wax my eyebrows when we first got back together."
She snorted. "You begged me not to."
"And you did it anyway."
She leaned back and sighed as I gently massaged her ankles, dipping her feet into the warm water.
The look on her face — relief — made everything worth it.
---
Later in the day, I got Liam involved.
"Okay," I told him, kneeling to his level. "Today is Mommy's special day. No stressing her, okay? No jumping on her. And if she asks for a hug, give her three."
Liam nodded solemnly. "Can I paint her nails again like last time?"
I blinked. "The last time you painted her nails they looked like crime scenes."
"But she laughed."
"…Fair point."
I set them both up at the dining table with safe, pastel colors. I stood by, watching as Liam carefully painted her toenails, his tongue poking out in concentration.
"You're doing so good, baby," Arya said.
"You're the baby," he said without looking up. "I'm the artist."
We both burst out laughing.
---
In the evening, I surprised her with a foot soak and a back rub.
Her eyes fluttered closed as I ran my thumbs along her shoulders.
"Mmmm… if you keep doing that, I might cry," she mumbled.
"That's allowed," I said softly. "Just don't go full hormonal rage. I only have one spine."
She chuckled, but then her laughter slowed.
Her voice was quiet when she asked, "Do I still look like me, Damon?"
I paused, heart aching.
I stepped around to face her, kneeling so we were eye to eye.
"No," I said gently. "You don't look like the woman I met at that gallery three years ago. You don't even look like the woman I fell in love with all over again after Westbrook."
Her eyes shimmered.
"You look even stronger now. Softer. Fiercer. Like a goddess who's building life inside her. Arya… you look like the most beautiful version of you I've ever seen."
She blinked fast. "Dammit, Damon."
I kissed her softly. "Dammit, Arya."
---
That night, after we tucked Liam in and curled up in bed, she rested her head on my chest and whispered, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For seeing me," she said. "Even when I'm swollen, exhausted, moody, and unreasonable."
I smiled. "You forgot adorable."
"And demanding."
"And brilliant. And brave. And mine."
She snuggled closer.
For once, there were no wild cravings, no tears, no complaining about how tight her maternity clothes had become.
Just silence. Peace.
Her heart against mine. Her hand on her belly.
And the quiet joy of knowing I had done something right.
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End of Chapter 103 – Damon's POV.