The days leading up to the surgery seemed to be taking more than an eternity. I had never been good at waiting, and this was no exception. Even though the doctors assured me that everything would be fine, a sense of unease crept into my thoughts when I was alone. I found myself organizing and reorganizing the nursery more times than I could count, just to keep my hands busy.
Dante, as usual, was a constant presence. It was almost disturbing how calm he appeared. While I busied myself with baby clothes and prenatal checklists, he was always somewhere in the background—either working from home or taking calls on the balcony. I knew he was doing it to keep me from feeling lonely, and I appreciated it more than I could ever put into words.
One evening, as I folded and refolded a stack of tiny socks, Dante walked in holding a cup of Arabian tea. "You need to rest," he said, his tone gentle but firm.
I glanced at him, noticing how tired he looked. I could tell he hadn't been sleeping well. I accepted the tea with a small smile. "You too. You look exhausted."
He scoffed lightly, leaning against the doorway. "You're one to talk. You haven't stopped moving since our last visit to the doctor."
"I just... I don't know how to sit still," I admitted, staring down at the cup. "It's like if I stop, I'll start thinking too much."
Dante walked over and sat beside me, his hand finding mine. "It's okay to be nervous. But I'm here for you, you know."
His words sank in slowly. I squeezed his hand, trying to focus on his warmth. "I just want everything to be okay."
He didn't respond, just shifted closer so that our shoulders touched. We sat there in silence, the weight of reality settling around us. Somehow, his presence made the silence a lot more comforting.
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of French toast and fresh fruit. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until I wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Dante turned from the stove, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Morning. Thought I'd make you something special."
I couldn't help but smile back. "You're spoiling me."
He shrugged. "You deserve it."
We sat down at the breakfast table, the soft clinking of cutlery filling the room. I could feel Dante's gaze on me every now and then, as if he was making sure I was really eating. I appreciated his attention, but I couldn't ignore the way my stomach twisted with nerves.
After breakfast, Dante pulled me aside. "There's something I wanted to ask you."
I looked up at him curiously. "What's on your mind?"
He hesitated, his fingers brushing against mine. "You haven't talked about maybe going over to visit your family, since dinner with your mom, I think you've been deliberately distant."
"Visiting my family" I interrupted softly.
He looked frightened, like he had possibly gotten me pissed, though that wasn't his intention. "Yeah. I know this situation is complicated, but family is important. You need them now more than ever, you're having a baby soon"
I hadn't expected him to say that. I appreciated him promoting the reconciliation between my mother and I, but it was just a whole lot for me to handle. "This feels too sudden, all of it. The accident, meeting my mom at the hospital after all these years, the whole drama with Matilda and now this C-section I'm getting ready for. It's just a lot and I don't know how to fix myself back in the family out of the blues" I paused. "And how do I explain this to them, you and I, that we're in this fake marriage just for convenience and it'll all be over soon? Come on it's just so complicated right now and I just want to focus on having this baby"
My shoulders relaxed, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "It's just too much."
"I didn't mean to stress you, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in to pat me on the shoulder.
The days continued to blur together, and soon enough, it was time for the pre-surgery appointment. I tried to keep my mind focused on the medical details, but every so often, fear would creep back in. What if something went wrong? What if—
Dante seemed to sense my spiraling thoughts, because he gently squeezed my shoulder as we sat in the waiting room. "It's going to be okay," he whispered.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
After the appointment, as we walked back to the car, Dante stopped suddenly. "Hey."
I looked up at him, confused. "Yeah?"
He pulled me into a tight embrace, his chin resting on top of my head. "You're strong. You've been through so much already. This? You're going to get through it too."
I buried my face in his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm me. For the first time in a while, I felt like I didn't have to carry the fear on my own.
Back at home, I tried to keep busy. Dante had insisted on taking a half-day at work to make sure I wasn't alone. We ended up on the couch, watching some crime drama that neither of us was really paying attention to. My mind was too busy with thoughts of what was coming.
At one point, Dante reached over and laced his fingers through mine. "I was thinking..."
"Hm?"
"We should put together a list of names for the baby," he said, his voice softer than usual.
My heart warmed at the thought. "I've actual not thought about that"
"You can't be serious. I thought that all expectant mothers spent a large chunk of their time thinking about it," he joked.
I laughed. "I've actually not had the time to, you know, with all that drama and chaos that has happened in recent times."
He smiled, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. "I will be back with a pen and notepad." he said excitedly as he jumped over the couch.