MILAGROS Cordova was in her late fifties with thick salt and pepper hair and was the resident doctor of their family since time immemorial. The latter had slowly deteriorated in appearance, still, it didn't affect her ability as much as one would think. She was just incredibly dedicated to working at hand; even doing long hours of duty on weekends.
"How is she?" Ira politely asked her.
"Well, she's stable. Nothing serious, so don't be a worrywart." Doctor Cordova said to him as if that made it any better.
Ira could not remember when was the last time he became so f*cking worried about someone until now. Well, he didn't get that far just to lose the only tool that shields his empire. And yes, he was not satisfied with her response and wanted to make sure his plans would not fall flat in a snap of a finger. He clicked his tongue afterwards.
"She passed out right in front of my nose. How can you tell me not to be anxious?"
The doctor pursed her lips, trying not to crack up as she saw the fear spiking through his eyes. Sure, it was normal for an expectant father to react like that. Milagros could only shake her head animatedly.
"Alright, I'll be honest with you. She is a little anemic and over-fatigued. Other than that there's nothing detrimental to your wife's health."
"And the baby?" he said after a few seconds.
"The baby is fine. Your little guy boasted his heartbeat when I checked on him." She chuckled.
Ira's forehead compressed. "How do you know it's a he?"
"Pulses are typically accurate, although it may be too soon to tell," Miranda said with a bright smile.
Ira nodded in response, slightly relieved. He wouldn't deny that his concern for the baby was just a beard to their dysfunctional relationship. To protect his position in the company and his riches, he would take whatever was necessary. At least he's not a hypocrite.
"Thank you for coming even though this is uncalled for when you should be enjoying your rest day."
"Fret not, Mr Greyson. You understand how emergencies operate in that way, and this home is also like a second family to me." Her lips remained pursed in a broad smile.
"I know, I know." He managed to smile back while scratching the side of his head.
"I expect you to keep me informed when something changes, or whenever she feels uncomfortable. Don't forget to remind her to take the vitamins."
The doctor gathered her medical kit and turned to go. For the umpteenth time, he nodded again. Ira felt his muscles tense, and his vision seemed hazy in some way. Signs of jet lag started to kick in, so he made a mental note to take a shower first before hitting the bay. Then Doctor Cordova veered around the door, her hands on the knob, stopped and faced him again.
"Did you forget something?" Ira queried, forehead abraded.
"I just noticed you missed an important element here."
The lines on his forehead went deeper as his brows knitted together. He had no inkling of what element she was talking about. Damn.
"I'm sorry, I'm not following you."
"I see. But, Ira, you have to understand that a pregnant woman needs proper care and attention. The first trimester is considered one of the delicate phases." Miranda paused for a second then went on. "Marriage does not end on a honeymoon stage, so please, be patient with your wife."
"Of course," he agreed, not confident about how to react to what she said. "Thanks, doc."
Miranda gave him a reassuring look before leaving. After a while, he slouched on the teal-coloured couch, with his hands over his face. He was trying to knock some sense into his head about what had happened today. When he'd finally snapped out of it, he checked his watch. It was already past four in the afternoon and his body was screaming for a rest. He stood up and walked through the double doors of the bathroom. He was taking his time under the lukewarm water cascading from the shower while musing about Miranda's words. They were like annoying pests buzzing in his ears. Sh*t.
"Did she expect me to babysit that woman?" He scowled, talking to himself.
He mindlessly plucked the loofah from the rack and squeezed a certain amount of citrus gel on it. Disoriented, Ira dabbed it straight to his face, making him wriggle vehemently. Quickly, he tilted his head, letting the water run against his face.
"F*uck! Since when did I get this clumsy?!" He snarled to himself, tossing the poor thing onto the tiled floor.
So much for expecting to be relaxed! So then, he finished taking a bath and wrapped the cottony towel around his hips. By the time he got out of the shower, he was greeted by a scream.
"Why are you naked?!"
"Why are you shouting, woman?" He hissed, walking past Chloe and head on to the walk-in closet.
As he was getting a new set of clothes, he wondered why she was up now. Ira mused if he was that loud back there to even disturb her sleep? Meanwhile, she fought the urge not to look at him, but he made him do so. He called her and invited her to come over. Chloe took a deep breath. Her movements were slow and laboured, and she was drawing near.
"Chloe Mae," he called her again, annoyed.
"Yeah. I-I'm coming!"
When she finally plunged inside, Ira pulled her into an embrace. She was rattled; she could barely move. Chloe couldn't think of any reason why the hell was he acting up like that? Just after she dozed off, and he was already behaving strangely? Curiosity churned into her stomach but she shut her mouth. She just woke up for Pete's sake! Chloe wouldn't want him to smell her breath, sure.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, eyes fixated on her face now.
"Why do you ask?" she asked in a small voice. She lowered her head and looked away.
"Don't I have the right to ask my wife?"
"Of course you do."
"So tell me, are you somehow okay now?"
"A little."
"That's a relief. I'm sure you're hungry by now."
"Sort of." She smiled sheepishly.
"Alright. I'll tell the chef to cook anything you two want for dinner."
"Sure." Chloe could only acquiesce and nod.
"Wait for me outside while I finish clothing up." He kissed the top of her head.
Ira felt her stiffened but he held her close. He knew she was weirded as to why he was pulling this act, yet he needed to do this. . . for humanity.
They may not be in love with each other, nonetheless, he must not forget she was still a mortal. Not to mention the mother of his child whom he should treat with the utmost respect. He hated to admit it, but yes, he was too consumed by his goddamn plan that he ended up being self-centered. Altruism would be the first to many toils in their bumpy married life. Thanks to Miranda for knocking some sense in his head.
