When I woke again, the world was quieter.
The hum of machines had softened to a steady rhythm, and the white light was no longer blinding — just pale, calm morning light filtering through half-drawn curtains.
Someone was holding my hand.
I turned my head — slowly, carefully.
Kaelen sat on one side of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hand wrapped around mine like he'd been anchoring me there for hours. He looked wrecked — stubble shadowing his jaw, shirt rumpled beyond repair, eyes rimmed red from sleeplessness.
On the other side, my father. Jacket back on, hair combed, but his exhaustion showed in every line of his face. He was reading something on his tablet — or pretending to — because every few seconds his gaze drifted to me.
When I stirred, both men moved at once.
"Elara," Kaelen breathed, his thumb brushing my knuckles.
Charles leaned forward, relief breaking through his practiced composure. "Hey, sweetheart. You scared the life out of us again."
I swallowed, my throat still dry. "How… long?"
"Almost twelve hours," Kaelen said softly. "You had a scare, but the doctor says you and the baby are stable now."
The baby.The word sat between us — fragile, luminous, terrifying.
I took a slow breath. "I'm fine," I whispered. "Just… tired."
Charles gave a quiet, shaky laugh. "Good. You can stay tired for a few days. The world can wait."
But I shook my head. "Daddy, the Island Residence—"
"Elara. Sweetheart." His tone gentled, but carried that unyielding weight only a father could manage. "Don't. Not now."
I hesitated. "There were injuries—"
"I'll handle it," he said firmly. "I'll be back at the office in a bit. PR and legal have the morning briefing. I'll deal with the press and the Ministry myself."
That made me blink. "You?"
He smiled faintly. "I may have taken some time off, but I still know how to run a company in crisis. Don't worry, daddy's here."
"Also, Kaelen" Charles turned to look at him, but there was no edge to it now — only something steadier, resolved. "You stay here. Take care of her. I'll coordinate with your people in the meantime. You have an assistant, right?"
Kaelen blinked, surprised, then nodded. "Yeah. His name is Mark."
"Good. Put me in touch."
Kaelen reached into his coat pocket for his phone, thumbed through it, then handed it to my father. "He's expecting your call."
Their eyes met. For a moment, something wordless passed between them — mutual respect, or perhaps a truce born from the shared terror of almost losing me.
Charles took the phone, gave a curt nod, and stood. "I'll be back later."
Then, after a pause, he looked at Kaelen again. "Take care of my baby girl. And… don't let her open her laptop."
When the door closed behind him, silence filled the room.
Kaelen exhaled, his shoulders dropping as if the air had finally returned to his lungs. He reached for my hand again, gentler this time.
"He's not wrong," he murmured. "You've done enough for ten people this week."
I smiled faintly. "You too."
He gave a low laugh. "Maybe. But I didn't collapse in my office."
"Show-off," I mumbled.
His eyes softened — the faintest smile tugging at his lips, though there was something raw beneath it. "You scared me," he said quietly. "When you—when they told me what happened. I thought I was going to lose you."
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. I reached up, brushed my fingers over his cheek. "You didn't."
He leaned into my touch, eyes closing for a second. "I don't think I could have handled that."
I didn't say anything — just let my thumb trace the line of his jaw, the warmth of him grounding me back to the moment.
Then he bent closer, forehead resting against mine. The scent of him — faint cologne, sleepless hours, and something achingly familiar — filled the air between us.
"We'll figure this out," he whispered. "You, me, the baby… all of it."
I felt my eyes sting, but I smiled anyway. "You're awfully confident for someone who just got punched by my father."
That made him laugh — really laugh, low and breathless. "Yeah. He hits harder than I expected."
"You deserved it."
"Probably."
His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist. "Still worth it."
The monitor hummed quietly beside us. Morning sunlight crept higher along the wall.
He stayed quiet for a while, fingers tracing light circles over the back of my hand — like he was memorising the weight of it, the pulse beneath the skin.
Then, finally, he said softly, "I still can't believe it."
I blinked, half-smiling. "That I fainted in the middle of the boardroom?"
He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "No. That there's a baby. Our baby."
The words sent a strange, fluttering warmth through me. I'd heard the nurse say it, heard my father repeat it — but from him, it felt real. Terrifyingly real.
Five weeks.
A heartbeat I couldn't yet feel. A life I didn't dare hope for, not after the last one.
A ghost of memory flickered through me — pain, betrayal, the suffocating dark. The helplessness of dying with a child I never got to meet. My hand trembled, but I pressed it firmer against my stomach, as if I could anchor the promise there.
Not this time.
This time, I would protect them. No matter what it cost me.
My train of thoughts were broken when Kaelen started talking again. "I don't even know how to hold a newborn," he admitted under his breath. "Or change a diaper. Or—hell, I've never even been in a hospital room for anything other than meetings and ribbon cuttings."
I smiled faintly. "We'll learn."
He looked up then, and the emotion in his eyes made my throat tighten. "You say that like it's simple."
"It's not," I said. "But it's not impossible either."
Kaelen's lips curved slightly, but his expression was cautious — like he was afraid to touch the moment too hard in case it shattered. "When they told us… I didn't know what to say. Part of me was scared. The other part — the bigger part — just… couldn't stop smiling."
"Smiling?" I teased, voice still hoarse.
"Yeah." His eyes softened. "You have no idea what it felt like, Elara. After everything we've been through — the press, the project, the board, all of it — to find out there's something good coming out of the chaos. Something ours."
He reached forward then, resting his palm lightly against my stomach — tentative, reverent, almost afraid to touch. "Five weeks," he murmured. "You've been carrying her through everything. The meetings, the stress, the sleepless nights…"
"She seem stubborn already," I said quietly, smiling despite myself. "Must be your side of the family."
That made him laugh again, low and genuine — the sound I hadn't realised I'd missed.
Then his expression changed — a flicker of seriousness, something steadier. "Elara."
I looked up.
He hesitated, then drew a breath. "I know this isn't how we planned things. And maybe there's never a right time. But I don't want to wait anymore."
My heartbeat stumbled. "Wait for what?"
He held my gaze. "For us. For the next step. Let's get married."
The words hung between us, quiet but certain — no grand gestures, no rehearsed proposal, just truth.
I stared at him, searching his face — the exhaustion, the worry, the fierce tenderness there. "Kaelen…"
He shook his head, voice softer now. "I don't care about the headlines. Or the timing. I just—" He swallowed, eyes flicking briefly down to my stomach again. "—I want to build something solid. For you. For them. For us."
Something in me trembled — the part that had always been too proud, too cautious, too afraid to depend on anyone. "You don't have to fix this by marrying me," I said quietly. "I don't want you to feel obligated."
He smiled faintly — not hurt, not defensive, just honest. "You think I'd marry you out of obligation?"
I hesitated. "You'd be surprised what people do when they're scared."
Kaelen leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm terrified. But not of you."
That simple truth undid me more than any promise could.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The steady beeping of the monitor, the faint sound of rain starting again against the window — everything felt distant, like the world had narrowed to this small, fragile space between us.
Finally, I said softly, "You don't have to decide anything tonight."
He smiled against my skin. "I already have."
When he pulled back, his hand was still over mine, over where our future had quietly begun.