CHAPTER 33: Twelve Weeks

Three weeks of marriage passed in a blur of normalcy that felt almost suspicious.

James stayed away—at least physically. The restraining order kept him 500 feet back, and for once, he seemed to be following the rules.

But I couldn't shake the feeling he was planning something.

"You're paranoid," Victoria said over lunch at a café near my old apartment. "He's probably licking his wounds and plotting his next career move."

"Or plotting revenge."

"Also possible." She sipped her coffee. "But worrying won't help. Focus on the good stuff. Like the fact that you're twelve weeks pregnant today."

Twelve weeks. The end of the first trimester. The point where miscarriage risk dropped significantly.

The point where we could finally tell people.

"Are you nervous?" Victoria asked. "About the appointment today?"

"Terrified. What if something's wrong? What if—"

"Stop. You've been taking your vitamins. Going to all your appointments. Everything's been perfect so far."

"But what if it's not anymore?"

She reached across the table. "Then we deal with it. But borrowing trouble from tomorrow is just stealing joy from today."

"That's very wise."

"I have my moments." She checked her watch. "Your appointment is in an hour. I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to—"

"Dad's in meetings all afternoon and you're not going alone. Plus, I want to see my future sibling. End of discussion."

---

Dr. Patel's office felt familiar now. Third visit. Almost routine.

Except this one was different. This was the twelve-week ultrasound. The one where we could actually see a baby instead of just a blob.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Patel asked as I settled on the exam table.

"Good. The nausea's finally easing up. I'm less tired."

"Second trimester energy boost. Enjoy it while it lasts." She prepped the ultrasound equipment. "Ready to see your baby?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

The gel was cold. The wand pressed against my small but definite bump.

And then—there it was.

Not a blob anymore. A baby.

Tiny arms. Tiny legs. A head. A body.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

Victoria grabbed my hand. "Bella, look. That's a whole person."

"Strong heartbeat," Dr. Patel said, adjusting the screen. "158 beats per minute. Perfect. And here—" she pointed, "—you can see the baby moving."

As if on cue, the baby kicked. Tiny. Barely visible. But undeniable.

I started crying.

"That's our baby," I said to Victoria. "That's Alexander's and my baby."

"That's your baby," she agreed, her own eyes wet. "And they're beautiful."

Dr. Patel measured. Checked organs. Made notes.

"Everything looks excellent. Due date is still August 15th. Would you like to know the sex?"

I hesitated. Alexander and I hadn't discussed this.

"Can you tell?" I asked.

"Usually not until 16-20 weeks. But sometimes we get lucky at twelve weeks." She angled the wand. "Let me see... Actually, I think I can see. Do you want to know?"

"I—I need to ask my husband first."

"Of course. We can wait until your next appointment." She smiled. "Though fair warning, I'm about 80% sure what it is."

"Don't tell me! I'll accidentally let it slip."

She laughed. "Your secret is safe. Let me print some pictures for you."

As she left the room, Victoria helped me sit up.

"You have to find out," she said. "The suspense will kill you."

"Alexander might want to wait. Some people want to be surprised."

"Dad's been planning nursery themes for weeks. He wants to know."

I looked at the ultrasound photo in my hand. My baby. Our baby.

Suddenly, I needed Alexander here. Needed to share this with him.

"Can you call him?" I asked Victoria. "See if he can leave his meeting?"

"Already texting." She showed me her phone. "He says he's on his way."

---

Alexander arrived fifteen minutes later, slightly out of breath.

"I'm here. Did I miss it? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect." I showed him the ultrasound photo. "Look."

His face transformed. Wonder. Joy. Love.

"That's our baby," he whispered.

"That's our baby."

Dr. Patel returned. "Mr. Sterling! Good timing. Your wife and daughter said you might want to find out the sex?"

Alexander looked at me. "Do you want to know?"

"I do. If you do."

"I want whatever makes you happy."

"That's not an answer."

He smiled. "Fine. Yes. I want to know. The suspense is killing me."

Dr. Patel pulled up the ultrasound images again. "Then I'm pleased to tell you... you're having a girl."

The room went silent.

"A girl?" Alexander's voice cracked.

"A girl," Dr. Patel confirmed. "About 80% certain at this stage. We'll confirm at your twenty-week scan, but I'm fairly confident."

Alexander sank into the chair beside me. "We're having a daughter."

"A daughter," I repeated, the word feeling foreign and perfect all at once.

Victoria squealed. "I'm getting a sister! Oh my God, I'm going to spoil her so much."

"You're going to be an excellent big sister," Dr. Patel said warmly.

After the appointment, the three of us stood in the parking lot in a daze.

"A girl," Alexander kept saying. "We're having a girl."

"You said that already," Victoria teased. "Like five times."

"I'm processing." He pulled me close. "A daughter. Our daughter."

"Are you disappointed? That it's not a boy?"

"Disappointed?" He looked at me like I was crazy. "Bella, I'm terrified and thrilled and overwhelmed. A little girl who'll have your eyes and your smile and your stubborn streak."

"Hey!"

"It's a compliment." He kissed my forehead. "I can't wait to meet her."

"August," I said. "Five more months."

"Five months to get ready. To babyproof. To finish the nursery. To—" He paused. "To pick a name."

"Oh God. Names."

Victoria laughed. "This is going to be entertaining. Dad's traditional. Bella's creative. You're going to fight about names for months."

"We won't fight," Alexander said.

"We'll disagree politely," I corrected.

"Same thing." Victoria hugged us both. "Congratulations. Both of you. She's going to be so loved."

As Victoria left, Alexander and I stood by his car.

"A daughter," he said again.

"You're stuck on that."

"I had a son. I know sons. Daughters are... different."

"Scared?"

"Terrified. What if I mess it up? What if I'm too old? What if—"

I kissed him. "You're going to be amazing. You already love her. That's half the battle."

"What's the other half?"

"Not letting her date until she's thirty."

He laughed. "Deal."

We drove home in comfortable silence, my hand on my bump, his hand covering mine.

A daughter.

Our daughter.

Growing inside me. Safe. Healthy. Perfect.

For the first time in months, everything felt right.

No drama. No threats. No scandal.

Just us. Our little family.

And for now, that was enough.

---

That night, as we lay in bed, Alexander talked to my belly.

"Hello, little girl," he whispered. "I'm your dad. Your mom and I found out about you today. Well, we knew you existed, but now we know you're a girl. A daughter." His voice broke. "I promise to protect you. To love you. To give you everything good in this world and shield you from everything bad. You're already so loved. By me, by your mom, by your big sister Victoria, by your grandmother Catherine."

He paused.

"And I'm sorry about your uncle James. He's... complicated. But you don't need to worry about him. I'll make sure you're safe."

I ran my fingers through his hair. "She's going to adore you."

"You think?"

"I know." I smiled in the darkness. "You're already the best dad."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"You're here. You care. You love her. That's everything."

He kissed my bump gently. "Goodnight, little one. Sweet dreams."

Then he moved up to kiss me. "I love you, Mrs. Sterling."

"I love you too, Mr. Sterling."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?"

"For this. For her. For giving me a second chance at being a father. At getting it right this time."

"You got it right the first time too. James's choices aren't your fault."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He pulled me close. "But this time, I have you. And that makes all the difference."

I fell asleep in his arms, one hand on my belly, feeling our daughter growing inside me.

Everything was perfect.

Which, of course, meant something was about to go very wrong.