Все главы Married To My Sister's fiance : Глава 61 - Глава 70

Ava’s POVThe penthouse had settled into a rhythm that felt both comforting and suffocating. Days blended together under the soft glow of the bedroom lamps. I spent most of my time in bed, propped up by the mountain of pillows Ethan rearranged every few hours. The ache in my side had become a constant, heavy pressure that flared whenever I shifted or laughed too much. I kept one hand on my belly, feeling the baby’s movements like small promises that we were still fighting.Ethan barely left the room. He worked from the chair beside the bed, his laptop open, answering calls in a low voice while his free hand stayed close to me. Every half hour he would pause, bring me fresh water or a small bowl of cut fruit, and check my face like he could read the pain I was trying to hide.“You need anything else?” he asked again that afternoon, setting a glass of cool water on the nightstand. His palm found my belly automatically, thumb stroking slow circles over the curve. The baby gave a lazy kic

Ava’s POVThe penthouse had become a world that existed only within these four walls. Days no longer had clear shape — they stretched long and soft under the glow of the bedside lamps and the quiet hum of Ethan’s voice. I spent nearly all my time in bed, propped up by the mountain of pillows he rearranged with careful hands every few hours. The ache in my side had grown into something heavier, a constant, squeezing pressure that flared whenever I shifted or tried to sit up too quickly. I kept one hand on my belly, feeling the baby’s movements like small promises that we were still fighting.Ethan barely left the room. He worked from the chair beside the bed, his laptop open, answering calls in a low voice while his free hand stayed close to me. Every half hour he would pause, bring me fresh water or a small bowl of cut fruit, and check my face like he could read the pain I was trying to hide.“You need anything else?” he asked again that afternoon, setting a glass of cool water on the

Ava’s POVThe penthouse had become a quiet bubble where time moved differently. I lay in bed for most of the day, propped up by the mountain of pillows Ethan adjusted with careful hands every few hours. The ache in my side was no longer something that came and went — it had settled into a constant, heavy pressure that flared with every small movement, every laugh, every time I tried to sit up too quickly. I kept one hand on my belly, feeling the baby’s kicks like small reassurances that we were still fighting.Ethan barely left the room. He worked from the chair beside the bed, his laptop open, answering calls in a low voice while his free hand stayed close to me. Every half hour he would pause, bring me fresh water or a small bowl of cut fruit, and check my face like he could read the pain I was trying to hide.“You need anything else?” he asked again that afternoon, setting a glass of cool water on the nightstand. His palm found my belly automatically, thumb stroking slow circles ov

Ava’s POVThe penthouse lights had been dimmed low for hours. I lay in the big bed, surrounded by the pillows Ethan kept adjusting, my body heavy with the kind of tiredness that came from doing nothing but resting. The ache in my side had settled into a deep, constant pressure that never fully went away. It flared whenever I shifted, whenever I laughed, whenever the baby kicked particularly hard. I kept one hand on my belly, counting the movements like they were the only thing keeping me grounded.Ethan had pulled his chair right up to the side of the bed. His laptop was open on his knees, but he hadn’t typed anything in the last twenty minutes. His eyes kept drifting to me, watching the rise and fall of my breathing, the way my fingers rested on my belly. He reached over and covered my hand with his, thumb stroking slow circles over the curve.“The baby is still active,” he said softly, as if saying it out loud would make it true. “That’s good. The doctor said that’s what we watch fo

Ava’s POVMorning light crept through the half-drawn curtains, soft and golden, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing down on me. I lay in bed, surrounded by the pillows Ethan had carefully stacked behind my back, my hand resting on the curve of my belly. The baby moved in slow, steady rolls, each kick a small comfort in the quiet room. But the ache in my side had grown heavier overnight. It no longer came in waves — it stayed, a constant, squeezing pressure that made every breath feel a little more deliberate.Ethan had been awake for a while. He sat in the chair beside the bed, his laptop open on his knees, but his attention kept drifting to me. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much in the last few days. Every time I stirred or winced in my sleep, he was there, rubbing my back or talking softly to the baby until I settled again.“You’re awake,” he said when he saw my eyes open. He closed the laptop and moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. His hand found