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Chapter 121 – Damon's POV
"Just Rest, Arya"
"Arya, please. For once in your life, listen to me and sit down."
I stood in the middle of her gallery, hands on my hips, watching my heavily pregnant wife try to rearrange canvases with one hand and balance a steaming cup of tea in the other.
She was eight months along. Round-bellied, glowing, and stubborn as ever.
She didn't even glance at me. "I'm not helpless, Damon. I'm pregnant, not broken."
"I didn't say you were broken. I said you need to rest." I moved toward her, quickly snatching the cup before she accidentally spilled it on herself. "Your due date is in four weeks. What if you go into labor early?"
She rolled her eyes. "Then I'll paint between contractions."
I almost choked. "Arya—!"
"Damon," she interrupted, facing me now. Her hands rested on her hips, and her eyes — those mismatched, breathtaking eyes — looked at me with both affection and fire. "You know I love you, right?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Whenever a sentence starts like that, I know it's about to drive me crazy."
She smiled sweetly. "Then brace yourself. I love you. But I also love my work. This gallery isn't just my job. It's my peace."
I exhaled sharply and ran a hand through my hair. "I know that. God, Arya, I know. But your body's already carrying our daughter. You've barely been sleeping, your feet are swollen, and every time you walk too fast, you wince like someone stabbed you."
"It's just pelvic pressure—"
"Which is exactly my point!"
She walked past me to adjust the lighting on one of her larger canvases. The painting was a blend of reds and golds, textured, chaotic, alive. She'd titled it Becoming.
I stared at it for a second, remembering how she worked on it at two in the morning while I held her hair back as she threw up.
"Liam didn't make me feel like this," she said softly, not looking at me. "This pregnancy… it's different. Wilder. More emotional. But when I paint, I feel calm. Like I'm still me."
I walked up behind her, slowly, and wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my hands gently on her stomach.
"I know," I whispered against her hair. "But being 'you' doesn't mean doing everything alone."
Her breathing slowed. "I'm scared."
The words were so quiet I almost missed them.
I pulled her closer. "Of what?"
She leaned back into me, her body soft and warm. "Of becoming a mom again. Of whether I can handle two kids. Of whether I'll lose myself like I almost did after Liam. But mostly… of not being enough. For you, for her, for all of this."
I turned her gently to face me. "Arya, look at me."
She did — her eyes glossy now.
"You're already enough. You've always been enough. You don't have to prove anything to anyone — not even me. Especially not me."
Her lips trembled. "Why do I always feel like I'm being difficult when I just want to be strong?"
I shook my head. "Because people like you — the ones who carry beauty and chaos in equal measure — are always hardest on themselves. But strength isn't pushing through every pain. Sometimes, it's knowing when to pause."
She let out a shaky breath.
"I'm not saying never paint," I added. "Just… not today. Not until you rest. Please."
There was a long pause.
Then, slowly, Arya nodded.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll stop for today."
Relief washed over me like a wave. "Thank God."
"But I'm going to lie down in the office sofa — not at home," she added quickly.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Damon."
I smirked. "Fine. But I'm locking the brushes away until this baby comes."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Control freak."
"Blame the hormones," I teased.
She waddled — yes, waddled — toward the office, and I followed her like a shadow, making sure she didn't trip or slip on the way. Once she curled up on the couch, I grabbed a blanket and draped it over her legs.
She watched me with that soft, affectionate gaze that always made my heart feel like it had been lit from the inside.
"You're really worried, aren't you?" she asked, reaching out for my hand.
"I'm terrified," I admitted, sitting on the edge of the couch beside her. "Every time you wince or shift weirdly, I imagine the worst. I keep thinking… what if something goes wrong?"
Her fingers laced with mine. "You never acted scared with Liam."
"That's because I wasn't around much when you carried Liam," I said quietly. "But I'm here now. All in. I know what I almost lost… and I'm never making that mistake again."
Her eyes shimmered. "Damon…"
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Sleep, sunshine. I'll keep watch."
She closed her eyes slowly, her breathing evening out, and for the first time that day, I saw her body truly relax.
And as I sat there, watching over the woman I loved more than life, one hand still resting on the baby bump that held our daughter, I made a silent vow.
No matter how chaotic the world became… this family would always come first.
Always.
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End of Chapter 121 – Damon's POV