Chapter 22: A Night to Remember
Ophira's POV — Four Months in Time
Month One
The nausea hit like waves—unexpected, relentless, crashing at all the wrong times. I'd be training, mid-stretch, and suddenly need to bolt to the nearest sink. My body wasn't mine anymore; it belonged to something small, growing, and utterly demanding.
I avoided mirrors.
Ozaire checked in often, never too much, never too little. Just enough to remind me I wasn't alone, even when I wanted to be.
We sat together once, on my living room floor, surrounded by pamphlets from the clinic. He didn't say much—just held a cup of ginger tea between his palms and listened. That silence meant more than any speech.
Month Two
I cried in the middle of the grocery store because they were out of my favorite yogurt. Then laughed about it five minutes later. Pregnancy hormones were a trip.
My clothes started to feel tighter. I folded my old training tops, stared at them, and tucked them away in a box I labeled "not yet."
At night, I found myself pressing my hand against my stomach. No real bump yet—just softness and promise. I whispered things to the baby I couldn't tell anyone else.
Ozaire started sending links to baby name lists. I ignored them, at first. Then I bookmarked my favorites.
Month Three
The bump finally showed. Small, like a secret, but undeniable. Yasha noticed before anyone else and gave me a long, silent look. I didn't explain. She didn't ask.
Doctor visits became part of my routine. Ozaire came with me once. He held his breath when we heard the heartbeat. I think I did too.
We ate pancakes after that appointment. In the diner, I caught him looking at me when he thought I wasn't watching. Like he was trying to memorize me in this moment. Or maybe trying to believe it was real.
I started journaling—scrawled, unfinished thoughts on motherhood, identity, fear. It helped.
Month Four
People began to notice. Yuan teased me gently. Yasha brought baby socks to my apartment, even though it was way too early. The smallness of those socks undid me.
I started training again—light stretches, slow movement, breath work. It felt good to feel strong again, even in this new, unfamiliar way.
Ozaire and I didn't talk much about the future. But he was there. Grocery runs. Cravings. Late-night phone calls when I couldn't sleep and needed someone to talk to.
Sometimes I caught him touching my stomach absentmindedly. He'd pull away quickly, unsure. But I never stopped him.
One evening, as I stood in front of the mirror, tracing the curve of my belly, I didn't look away.
I smiled.
Five months along, the bump in my stomach was becoming more prominent with each passing day. I found myself spending more and more time at Ozaire's place, craving his presence. Today, he chose not to go to work and stayed by my side, which made me feel comforted. It was clear that he was taking this "Dad thing" seriously, and it warmed my heart.
I was nestled on the couch, surrounded by pillows, watching a funny movie when a sudden wave of emotions hit me out of nowhere. I started to cry, for no particular reason, just an overwhelming mix of feelings. Thankfully, Ozaire was out getting my latest craving—fast food, specifically chicken and burgers—so he didn't witness this emotional outburst. Ever since I got pregnant, my diet had completely changed, and the healthy meals I used to eat had been replaced with junk food. I had also called my coach to withdraw from the Olympics. It was hard, but I had to be honest about my situation, and I was relieved when he accepted my decision without pressing for details.
When the movie ended, I started scrolling through Netflix to find something else to watch. After a few minutes, a movie caught my attention. The cover showed a man who looked exactly like Ozaire kissing another woman. I didn't need to second-guess; I knew it was him. Out of curiosity, I clicked on it just as I heard the front door open and close.
"I'm back!" Ozaire's voice echoed from the hallway as he walked toward me. "Hi, Ophira, I brought your food."
He set the bags of fast food on the coffee table and turned to look at the screen, noticing the movie I had just started.
I glanced up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. "Is that you?" I asked, pointing at the screen, where the opening credits were rolling.
Ozaire looked at the TV and then back at me, a slight grin forming on his lips. "Yeah, that's one of the films I did a couple of years ago. It's a rom-com."
My eyes widened in surprise. "You're an actor? Why didn't you tell me?"
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess it just never came up. I didn't think it was that important."
I couldn't hide my surprise. "Not important? You're in movies, Ozaire! How is that not something worth mentioning?"
He shrugged, still smiling. "It's just a job, like any other. But if you have questions, feel free to ask."
And ask I did. I bombarded him with questions—how long he'd been acting, what other movies he'd been in, if he'd ever met anyone famous. He answered them all patiently, with a hint of amusement in his eyes. But as he talked, my mind drifted back to the movie poster and the image of him kissing another woman.
Suddenly, a wave of irritation washed over me. The thought of him kissing someone else—even if it was just acting—rubbed me the wrong way. I tried to push the feeling aside, reminding myself that it was just a role, but the irritation lingered, quietly gnawing at me.
I fell silent, my thoughts racing. Ozaire noticed and tilted his head, concern flashing in his eyes. "Ophira? You okay? You got quiet all of a sudden."
I forced a smile, not wanting to let on how much the image bothered me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."
But Ozaire wasn't convinced. He studied me for a moment, clearly sensing that something was off. "Are you sure? You were so chatty a minute ago."
I nodded, hoping to brush it off. "I'm fine. Really. Just hungry, I guess."
He didn't press further, but I could tell he was still confused by my sudden change in mood. We settled back onto the couch, and I tried to focus on the food, but my thoughts kept drifting back to that movie. Despite my best efforts, a part of me couldn't shake the irrational jealousy I felt, even if I knew it was just acting and the fact that there was never an us.
As we ate in silence, I found myself glancing at Ozaire, who seemed blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my mind. I knew it was silly, but I couldn't help it. I just hoped this weird feeling would pass quickly.
"Hey, Ozaire," I called out softly, breaking the silence between us. He looked up from his food, his expression warm and attentive. "My next appointment with the doctor is tomorrow. Do you want to come along?"
Ozaire's face brightened with a smile that reached his eyes. "Of course, I'll come," he replied without hesitation. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
His response brought a sense of comfort and reassurance. It was in these moments—when he was so eager to be involved—that I felt a sense of security. Maybe I was overthinking things earlier. The way he looked at me, the way he cared, it was clear where his priorities were.
"Thanks," I murmured, feeling a bit of the tension in my chest ease. "It'll be nice to have you there."
"I'll always be there, Ophira," he said gently, his tone filled with sincerity. "Every step of the way."
His words made me smile, and for a moment, all my worries about the movie, the kiss, everything just faded into the background. All that mattered was that he was here, with me, and that he wanted to be part of this journey as much as I did.
"We'll find out the gender tomorrow, too," I added, trying to keep my tone casual, but I couldn't hide the excitement bubbling up inside me. It was a big moment, and part of me was nervous, but mostly, I just felt happy that Ozaire would be there with me.
Ozaire's eyes lit up even more. "Really? That's amazing!" he exclaimed, leaning in closer. "Do you have any guesses?"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "No idea. But whatever it is, as long as they're healthy, I'm happy."
"Same here," he agreed, his smile softening into something more thoughtful. "I can't wait to meet them."
Hearing him say that made my heart swell with warmth. All my previous irritation seemed so small now. Tomorrow, we would both find out something special, something that would bring us even closer.
"Change of topic," Ozaire began, his tone shifting slightly. "Have you told your sisters yet?"
I sighed, leaning back into the cushions. "Yasha, Bailey, Valerie, and Paicey know," I replied, twirling a loose strand of hair between my fingers. "But as for Reese and Gaia, they're pretty busy with their own lives. I don't want to add to their worries."
Ozaire nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. But they'll want to know, Ophira. It's a big deal."
"I know," I said softly, "but I just need a little more time. I'll tell them soon, I promise."
A ping from my phone indicating a new message cut off our conversation. I glanced at the screen to see that it was from Reese. Curious, I opened the message, and my eyes widened slightly as I read the contents.
"It's from Reese," I said, looking up at Ozaire. "She's inviting all seven of us to a ball."
Ozaire raised an eyebrow. "A ball? Is that the one Raiden's family is orchestrating? I got an invite, too, a few days ago, from Raiden himself."
I nodded, surprised. "Yes, that's the one. Reese's message is more of a formal invitation for all seven of us. I didn't realize you were also invited."
Ozaire chuckled. "Seems like everyone's going. Should be an interesting event."
I bit my lip, contemplating. "It could be a nice change of pace. What do you think? Should we go?"
Ozaire smiled. "If you're up for it, I'd be happy to go with you. It could be a good distraction and a chance to enjoy ourselves."
I considered his offer, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Alright, let's do it. It could be fun to dress up and spend some time with my sisters."
"In the midst of uncertainty, sometimes the best thing to do is to let go for a moment, embrace the joy of the present, and dance like nothing else matters."