Chapter 13

Ivy's POV

My eyes fluttered open slowly, my lashes brushing against something soft. For a moment, I didn’t move. I just lay there, trying to understand where I was.

The ceiling above me wasn’t white hospital paint anymore.

It was warm cream.

I turned my head slightly.

The room was large. Too large for one person. The lighting was soft, golden, falling gently across polished surfaces and neatly arranged furniture. Everything looked… perfect. Like no one had ever suffered inside it.

My fingers tightened slightly against the bedsheet.

Where am I?

My throat felt dry as I tried to sit up slowly. A faint ache still lingered in my body, a reminder of everything that had happened before I blacked out.

The hospital. The pain. The fear.

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach.

A sudden sound at the door made me freeze.

It opened.

And he walked in.

Zayn.

He stopped the moment his eyes landed on me, as if he had already known I would be awake. Calm as always. Dressed in dark clothing that made his presence even more overwhelming in the quiet room.

For a second, I just stared at him. My heart reacted before my mind did.

“You’re awake,” he said simply.

My lips parted slightly. “Where… where is this?”

He didn’t hesitate. “One of my houses.”

I blinked.

My brain took a moment to process that.

One of his houses.

I looked around again, more slowly this time. The elegance of the room suddenly made sense in a way I didn’t like. This wasn’t a hotel. This wasn’t a hospital.

This was his space, and I was in it.

“Why… am I here?” I asked quietly, my voice still weak.

Zayn stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him without noise.

“You fainted again,” he said. “The doctor said your condition is unstable. You cannot stay alone.”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, even though my body immediately betrayed me with a small ache in my stomach. “I just need rest. I can go back to my place. I don’t want to bother you…”

“You’re not bothering me.”

His interruption was calm, but firm enough that my words stopped halfway.

I looked at him, unsure of what to say next.

Zayn stood a few steps away from the bed now, his expression unreadable as usual, but his eyes were focused on me in a way that made me suddenly very aware of myself.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Why are you doing this? You already helped me at the hospital, you paid my bills, you brought me here… I can’t keep taking things from you like this.”

“You’re not taking anything,” he said again.

His voice was steady.

“Then what is this?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly now. “Charity?”

“No.”

I fell silent.

Zayn exhaled slowly, as if choosing his next words carefully, though his face didn’t change.

“You’re in a condition where stress can cost you your pregnancy,” he said. “You collapsed twice already. You have no stable environment. No proper care. No one to watch over you.”

Each sentence landed heavier than the last.

I lowered my gaze, because I couldn’t argue.

“I can manage,” I said weakly, even though I didn't believe it fully anymore.

“You can’t,” he replied simply.

Silence stretched between us again.

I pressed my lips together, fighting the tightness in my chest.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” I finally admitted, my voice smaller now. “I’ve already stressed you a lot.”

Then he spoke. “It’s okay.”

Zayn glanced briefly toward the side of the room. “I already sent Maria to your place,” he said. “She collected your things.”

My head snapped slightly. “My things?”

“Yes.”

My heart raced. “Why would you do that without telling me?”

“Because you were not in a condition to argue,” he replied calmly.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I didn’t know how to respond to that.

He continued.

“The maids have arranged everything in the wardrobe.”

I followed his gaze.

Only then did I notice a large built-in wardrobe across the room. It was partially open, and I could faintly see neatly arranged clothes inside.

My chest tightened again. “You didn’t have to do all this,” I said quietly.

“I know,” he answered.

I sat there, staring at him, my mind struggling to keep up with everything.

This man… barely knew me, yet he had moved me out of my home, paid my hospital bills, and arranged my clothes in his house.

And now… I was here, in his space.

Under his care.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said softly, my voice breaking slightly. “Everything you’ve done… It's too much. I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“You don’t need to give anything.”

“But why?” I asked, frustration mixing with confusion now. “Why are you doing all this for me? People don’t just help like this for no reason.”

Zayn looked at me for a long moment. “You need help. I've tried but I can't just look away” he said simply.

My hands tightened on the bedsheet.

My voice dropped. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

The certainty in his tone made my chest ache in a strange way.

I looked away slowly, unsure what to do with that kind of kindness. It didn’t feel like anything I had experienced before.

Zayn moved slightly closer to the bed. “You should rest,” he said. “Your body is still weak.”

I hesitated.

“What about work?” I asked suddenly, remembering everything again. “I can’t just disappear like this. I need money. I need to…”

“You are not going back there,” he said immediately.

My head lifted sharply. “What?”

“Not in your condition.” “I have to work,” I insisted. “I can’t just sit here and depend on you…”

“You’re not going back,” he repeated, voice calm but firmer now.

Something in his tone made my words falter.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t even know what to say to that,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

I stared at him, my chest rising and falling unevenly.

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go. Nothing about this felt normal.

Zayn glanced toward the door again, then back at me.

“In a few days,” he said, “I will take you to register for antenatal care.”

My breath caught slightly. “You’re still going to do that?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “You don’t have to…”

“I already said I will.”

Silence.

Then I nodded slowly. “Okay...”

The word came out softer than I expected.

Zayn studied me for a second longer, then turned slightly as if preparing to leave.

Before he reached the door, he paused. “You are safe here,” he said.

It made my chest tighten again.

He opened the door, then stopped again briefly.

“Rest,” he added.

And then he was gone.

The door closed softly behind him, leaving me alone in the large room. I sat there quietly, staring at the space he had just left.

My mind was full.

I looked toward the wardrobe again. My things are neatly arranged. Evidence that this wasn’t a dream.

Slowly, I lowered myself back onto the bed. My hand moved instinctively to my stomach again.

“I don’t know what this is,” I whispered softly.

My throat tightened slightly.

“But… thank you.”

And for the first time in a long time…

The silence around me didn’t feel completely empty.