Chapter 3

A few weeks after,

I didn’t notice the nausea at first.

It crept in like fog quiet, persistent, low in my belly. At first, I thought it was just nerves. I hadn’t spoken to Noah since the last conversation, though we still saw each other in class, pretending we didn’t know each other’s secrets. The arrangement was in place. The contract was signed, and the pregnancy was real.

And the rules were clear:

Keep it quiet.

Keep it professional.

Keep our distance.

But I could still feel him everytime he paced in front of the whiteboard, coat pushed back, sleeves rolled up. His eyes skimmed the class but they never landed on me anymore and I hated how much that bothered me.

Then came the wave.

It hit me hard, during a 9 a.m. ethics seminar. My vision blurred, and bile rushed to my throat. My hands clenched the edge of the desk as I forced slow breaths, but the buzzing in my ears was loud.

“Grace?” Professor Collins paused mid-sentence, her brows knitting. “Are you alright?”

I stood abruptly, chair scraping back. “I’m sorry. I… I need to step out.”

I stumbled out of the room, making it to the hallway bathroom just in time. I barely had the door locked before I dropped to my knees and threw up into the sink.

Cold sweat clung to my skin and I was trembling.

I splashed water on my face and leaned against the mirror, pressing my palms to the glass. The girl staring back at me looked pale, tired, and pregnant.

This was real.

I was barely eight weeks in, and my body was already betraying me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out with shaky fingers. One message lit up the screen.

Noah Bennett:

“Come to my office now.”

I hesitated, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Then I texted back:

Me: On my way.

His office was on the second floor, tucked away from student traffic. When I got there, the hallway was empty. I knocked twice.

“Come in,” his voice called.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

Noah stood near his window, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, his hand clutching a coffee mug like it was his only anchor.

“You looked pale in class,” he said without turning around.

“I’m fine,” I said, closing the door behind me. “Just a little…”

“Morning sickness?”

His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the edge in it.

I didn’t answer.

He turned then, eyes sharp as they scanned me. “You should’ve told me.”

I lifted my chin. “You said to keep our distance.”

“That’s not the same as hiding something that could risk the pregnancy.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” I said, crossing my arms. “I threw up once. It happens.”

He studied me for a long moment. “Sit.”

“I’m not a child, Noah…”

“Grace,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Sit.”

I sat.

He walked to the mini-fridge in the corner and pulled out a bottle of water, handed it to me, I took it without a word.

“I made an appointment for you,” he said. “Private clinic, Off-campus, and no records.”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

He arched a brow. “You’re carrying my child. We’re not taking chances.”

I should’ve pushed back, told him to stop acting like he owned me but the truth was… it felt nice to be taken seriously. To be cared for, even in his quiet, bossy way.

“Fine,” I said. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up.”

I didn’t argue.

I just nodded, slowly.

He walked closer, then paused, something flickered in his eyes, something softer.

“You’ve lost weight,” he murmured. “Eat something today. Please.”

That please did something to me.

Made me feel seen, touched, and wanted and that terrified me.

I stood. “I should go.”

He didn’t stop me this time.

I stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me and nearly walked straight into someone.

“Oh—sorry!”

He was tall, handsome, and dressed in a tailored jacket, but not the flashy type. His eyes were warm hazel, catching light like amber, and he had a smile that came a second too late like he didn’t smile often, but when he did, it counted.

“No worries,” he said. “Didn’t mean to block your exit.”

I nodded awkwardly. “It’s okay. I was just leaving.”

He glanced at Noah’s office door behind me, then back at me. “Friend of Professor Bennett?”

My pulse skipped. “Something like that.”

“Right,” he said, like he didn’t believe me but wasn’t pushing it. Then he offered his hand. “I’m Desmond, visiting lecturer, Finance department.”

I shook it. “Grace.”

“Grace,” he repeated, as if trying it on his tongue. “Nice name.”

I smiled politely and turned to walk away.

“Grace,” he called again. I looked back.

“You alright?” he asked. “You looked kind of pale.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just a long morning.”

He nodded slowly. “Well, if you ever need a distraction from long mornings… I’m around.”

And with that, he walked off, hands in his pockets, disappearing into the stairwell.

I exhaled slowly and made my way back to my dorm but as I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Desmond hadn’t shown up by accident and I couldn’t shake the look on Noah’s face either when he told me to eat like he cared, like he was already breaking his own rules.