Chapter 7

A sharp metallic clatter woke me up. For a second, I didn’t know where I was, the thick smell of disinfectant clung to my throat.

Then the memory hit me all at once. Collapsing at work, Lily shouting my name, the rush through the hallway. My hand flew to my belly before I could think.

They kicked. A tiny flutter. Relief broke through my heart so fast my eyes got teary. “You two are still with me,” I whispered, voice cracking.

A nurse hurried past my bed, pushing a tray that rattled with instruments. The patient by the other side of the room, coughed softly. 

“You’re awake,” the doctor said when she stepped in. “How do you feel?”

“Like I slept under a truck,” I muttered,  I slowly pushed myself up. “What happened? I heard noises and… everything felt strange.”

“You fainted from exhaustion,” she said. “Your blood pressure dropped.” 

She glanced at the monitor beside me. “Zara, she said with a small smile, “your vitals are stable now, and the babies are fine too, but you need to slow down. You’re almost due.”

I swallowed. “I just… I didn’t want to fall behind at work.”

“Rest, Zara. That’s your job for now. You can't tell me money is still the reason you are working this hard.”

I nodded, sinking back into the pillow,  I let my hand rest over my stomach, grounding myself in the steady rhythm beneath my palm. 

The curtain slid open  and my mother slipped inside, clutching her handbag like she had run all the way from home.

“Zara.”

Just my name. But it carried fear, anger and love all put together.

I sat up slowly. “Mom… I’m fine.”

“You collapsed at work,” she whispered, ignoring my reassurance. Her hand trembled as she reached for mine. “Lily told me.

I tried to smile. “I’m okay. The babies are okay.”

The moment I said it, she pressed a hand over her chest like she had been holding her breath for hours. Then she leaned down and kissed my forehead softly, the way she normally did when I got sick as a child.

She squeezed my fingers. “You don’t have to handle everything alone. Look at you.” Her eyes moved to my belly, “You’re carrying two lives. You must take care of yourself.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You worry me more when you don’t talk.” 

“You are all I have, Zara. You and your brother Ethan. I can’t lose you.”

The words hit hard. A tear slipped down my cheek before I could blink it away.

But she brushed it with her thumb.

My mother sat on the chair beside me and took both my hands in hers. “Listen to the doctor. No more pushing yourself for people who don’t care.”

“Okay, Mom,” I whispered.

She exhaled shakily, smoothing my hair like I was still her little girl.

The next morning, I actually listened to the doctor for once.

I needed rest. My body felt like it was carrying the world, not just two babies.

I dialed the office.

“Human Resources, good morning”

“It’s Zara,” I said. “I won’t be coming in today. Doctor’s orders.”

“Alright. I’ll inform the CEO ”

I hung up.

An hour later, my phone rang.

Sebastian.

I closed my eyes for one second before answering.

“What exactly is this?” His voice came through  like he was holding himself back from shouting. “You’re absent”

“I told HR why. I need rest.”

“I need results, Zara,” he shot back. “We’re already behind schedule because of your… situation.”

“My situation? You mean my health?”

He ignored that. “You should have finished the project yesterday. Now I’m left picking up the pieces.”

“Sorry sir.”

 “Fine. But when you return, I expect you to catch up. No excuses.”

The call ended.

I stared at my ceiling for a long moment, phone still in my hand, heart beating with a mix of anger and disbelief.

No empathy.

No understanding.

Just himself, his pressures and deadlines. 

Later that  night, when the house finally went still, I sat up in bed with my hands on my belly. The twins had been restless all evening, I looked down at the curve of my stomach, round and full of life. “You’re not mine,” I whispered, the words sounded weird  even to my own ears.

But the babies didn’t care about contracts, or secrecy, or the couple whose names I would never know. They only responded to my warmth and to my touch.

They nudged back, as if correcting me.

I wasn’t supposed to grow attached.

I wasn’t supposed to wonder.

I wasn’t supposed to love.

But when one tiny foot pressed against my palm, I felt that kick.

Carrying what isn’t mine.

It sounded simple on paper.

So Clinical and Transactional.

But living it was nothing close to simple.

“Just a few more weeks,” I breathed. “And then you’ll go where you belong.”

Because every day, the truth became harder to swallow:

The babies were not mine, but the bond forming… that was real.

I lay on my side, hand resting on the warm curve of my belly. “You deserve names. At least while you’re with me.” I said.

Though not part of the plan and contract.

No one needed to know.

I closed my eyes and waited for something to come naturally.

“Eli,” I murmured.

The right one kicked.

“Okay,” I breathed, smiling before I could stop myself. “You’re Eli.”

Then the left one rolled gently, almost as if not wanting to be left out.

“And you…” my voice softened to a tremble, “you’ll be Ava.”

A delicate flutter answered, almost shy.

Eli and Ava.

Names they would never hear when they were born.

Names they wouldn’t carry into their real lives.

Names just meant between us.

The twins kicked under my palm.

And for the first time in months, I fell asleep with a smile.

holding onto a moment I knew I couldn’t keep.

“I’ll take care of you,” I murmured. “Until the very last minute… I’ll take care of you.”

The twins settled, almost as if they heard.