DARK CHEMISTRY
Lizzie sat at her lab bench, trying to focus on the chemical reactions in front of her, but a wave of dizziness swept over her. The room spun slightly, her head feeling heavier by the second. She pressed her palms to the table, trying to steady herself, but it didn't help.
"Lizzie?" Daniel's voice cut through her haze. She looked up to see him standing just a few feet away, eyes narrowing in concern.
"I… I don't feel well," she murmured, her voice shaky. Her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort.
He immediately stepped closer, his usual calm authority mixed with a rush of protective instinct. "Sit down. Now," he commanded softly, guiding her gently to a nearby stool.
Lizzie's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table. Daniel crouched beside her, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead.
"You're pale," he murmured, concern evident in his tone. "Do you need to leave class? Water?"
"I… I don't know… my head…" she trailed off, voice fading as a wave of nausea hit her.
Daniel's eyes darkened ever so slightly, his jaw tightening. He scanned the lab quickly, then said firmly, "Everyone else, step outside. Give us a moment."
Within seconds, the other students hurried out, leaving only him and Lizzie in the quiet, sterile lab. The sound of her shallow breathing and the faint hum of the ventilation system filled the space.
He steadied her by the shoulders, his fingers lingering on her arms. "Just breathe," he whispered. "I've got you. Nothing's going to happen."
Lizzie's eyes fluttered closed as she leaned slightly into him, feeling the warmth and steady strength of his presence.
"You're not going to leave me, are you?" she asked, voice small and vulnerable.
Daniel's gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. "Never. I told you—I'll always be here."
A small, shaky sigh escaped her lips as she let herself lean against him, comforted despite the spinning in her head.
Her ring glinted faintly under the fluorescent lights, a subtle reminder that even in moments of weakness, she belonged to him—and he would never let her fall.
A few weeks passed in a blur of classes, sleepless nights, and stolen moments with Daniel. Lizzie had been feeling off lately—nausea in the mornings, a new sensitivity to smells, and a quiet, constant fatigue she couldn't explain.
One evening, as she stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her clothes, she noticed it—a small, almost imperceptible bump on her lower belly. Her hand froze mid-motion.
Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
Could it be…?
The thought hit her like a tidal wave, a mix of fear, disbelief, and a strange, fluttering excitement. She pressed her fingers lightly against the bump, her mind racing.
What if it really is?
Her chest tightened, and a thousand questions flooded her thoughts at once:
How did this happen?
What will Daniel think?
Am I ready for this?
How will this change everything?
She sank onto her bed, hands trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the ring Daniel had put on her finger weeks ago. The weight of it seemed heavier now, somehow, tied to the tiny life she feared and hoped she carried.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. A message. From Daniel.
"Are you okay?"
Her fingers hovered over the screen. Could she tell him? Should she tell him?
Her heart ached with the thought of his reaction—protective, possessive, caring… but also shocked.
Lizzie took a deep breath, placing a hand over the small bump, whispering softly to herself:
"Please… let this be real. And please… let him be with me through it."
Lizzie's hands trembled as she placed her phone down after sending a tentative text to Daniel, trying to ask for advice without revealing too much. Almost instantly, his reply came through:
"Wear baggy clothes from now on. No tight outfits. And if anyone asks… just say you're gaining weight. Understand?"
Her heart skipped a beat, reading the directness and care in his words. A strange mix of relief and embarrassment washed over her.
Before she could respond, another message appeared:
"Also… I'm sorry for that night a few weeks ago. I should've been more careful. I never meant to scare you or make things harder. I just… I love you, Lizzie. And I'll always protect you."
Her fingers shook as she clutched the phone to her chest, reading the words over and over. His apology, his concern, his possessiveness all wrapped into one—so intense, so raw.
She whispered softly to herself, barely audible, "He… he really does care."
A warmth spread through her, but it was tinged with nervousness too. Daniel's protective side had always been strong, but now… with the thought of the small bump she'd discovered, it felt amplified—he was already preparing to guard her, shield her from judgment, from the world, from everything.
She nodded to herself, still hugging the phone. "Okay," she whispered. "Baggy clothes… I can do that."
And as she thought of him, apologizing and caring and loving her, a quiet determination grew inside her: she would face this, whatever it was, and she would do it with him.
Five months had passed, and Lizzie had grown increasingly adept at hiding the small but unmistakable bump that now rounded her lower belly. Baggy sweaters, loose skirts, oversized hoodies—every outfit was carefully chosen, every movement measured. She moved slower than before, always conscious of how she sat, how she walked, how she carried her books.
At college, it was becoming harder to avoid notice. The lab benches felt tighter, the doorways narrower, and every glance from classmates made her heart race. She caught herself instinctively pulling her sweater down over her bump, or clutching her bag in front of her as a shield.
Daniel, of course, noticed everything. Every slight hesitation, every careful adjustment of her clothing, every subtle grimace when she bent or reached. His possessiveness had only grown sharper in the last few months, though he let her maintain her space—mostly. He still left gentle reminders on her phone:
"Are you comfortable? Don't push yourself too hard today."
"Wear something looser. I don't want anyone noticing you're hiding anything from me."
And though he rarely confronted her in public, she could feel his watchful presence whenever they were in the same room. It made her nervous, fluttery, and, strangely, safe.
One day, as she sat in chemistry class, trying to adjust a beaker without drawing attention, she felt his hand brush against hers under the lab table. His thumb traced lightly over her knuckles—a silent reminder that he was aware, that he cared, that he was there.
Her heart leapt, and she tried to focus on the experiment in front of her, but her mind kept wandering to him… to the ring he'd placed on her finger months ago, to his protective presence, and to the inevitable moment when she would have to tell him everything in full.
For now, she kept the bump hidden, tucked away like a fragile secret. But Daniel… he knew. Somehow, he always knew.
The months had flown by, each day heavier and more exhausting than the last. Lizzie's bump was undeniable now, stretching the fabric of her baggy clothes and making it impossible to hide completely. Her steps were slower, her movements careful, and every glance from strangers in the corridors made her anxiety spike.
Daniel had been there for her in every small way: messages reminding her to rest, subtle touches that only she felt, and quiet reassurances that he was watching over her.
Now, at eight and a half months, the due date loomed close—unavoidable, terrifying, and miraculous all at once.
One evening, as Lizzie rested in her dorm, her phone buzzed. It was Daniel. She answered quickly, breathless and anxious.
"Lizzie," he said, voice low, serious, but tinged with concern. "Listen to me. When the baby comes… you must inform me immediately. No one else. I don't want anyone—anyone at the college, at the hospital—knowing that this is happening between us. Do you understand?"
"I… I understand," Lizzie whispered, clutching the phone to her chest. Her heart pounded, both from fear and the gravity of what was about to happen.
Daniel's tone softened slightly, but there was still that firm edge that left no room for argument. "I'll be there, every step. I'll make sure you're safe. Don't let anyone else in—no strangers, no nosy nurses, no one. This is our secret, Lizzie. Ours. And after this… nothing will ever be the same, but I promise you, I'll protect you. Always."
Tears pricked her eyes. She wanted to speak, to beg him, to tell him how scared she was—but the lump in her throat wouldn't allow it. She simply nodded to herself, even though he couldn't see her.
"I… I'll call you. As soon as it starts," she whispered.
"Good," he said. "Now rest. Keep calm. Breathe. And remember—I'm coming. No one will touch you or our baby without my say."
The line went silent, leaving Lizzie clutching her bump, feeling its warmth, and trembling with a mix of fear, anticipation, and an undeniable sense of being utterly, completely claimed by Daniel.
Her world was about to change forever.