Matilda's POV
It had been a month since the mating, and everything had been going smoothly until this morning.
We were having breakfast together, Marco watching me with his usual possessive affection. But as soon as I took a bite, a strong wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere.
I barely made it to the nearest corner before everything came back up.
Marco was beside me in an instant, his hand on my back. "Matilda?" His voice was sharp with concern.
I wiped my mouth, forcing a weak smile. "I'm fine," I assured him, though my stomach still churned.
"You just threw up everything you ate," he said, clearly not convinced.
I took a deep breath, willing my stomach to settle. "It's nothing," I insisted. "Maybe I ate too fast."
His golden eyes narrowed. "You're lying."
I sighed. "Marco, I promise it's nothing serious. Just go about your day, I'll be fine."
Marco's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he'd argue. Instead, he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Fine. But if you're still sick later, we're calling the pack doctor."
I nodded quickly, just wanting him to drop it.
But as he left the room, a sinking feeling settled in my chest.
I tried to shake off the nagging thought, convincing myself it was just something I ate. But when the afternoon came, the nausea returned with a vengeance.
I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, my body trembling as I clutched the sink for support. My stomach twisted painfully, and I felt weak, drained.
By the time I crawled back into bed, I was exhausted. I pulled the blanket over myself, closing my eyes and willing the uneasy feeling away.
When Marco returned, his expression darkened the moment he saw me curled up. He didn't say anything at first, just walked over and sat beside me. His warm palm rested against my forehead, checking for fever.
"You're still sick," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "That's it,I'm calling the pack doctor."
"No," I said quickly, sitting up despite the dizziness that hit me.
His golden eyes narrowed. "Matilda"
"I'm fine, Marco," I insisted, gripping his hand. "Please. I just need rest."
He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You're scared," he finally said, his voice quieter now.
I swallowed hard, looking away. "I just… I don't want to think about it."
His grip on my hand tightened. "Think about what?"
I didn't answer. Because if I said the words out loud, it would make them real.
Well if you vomit again am calling the doctor.
Marco had been watching me like a hawk all evening. I could feel his eyes on me, tracking every little movement, every twitch of discomfort. He was waiting for me to slip up for proof that I wasn't fine.
And then it happened.
I felt the nausea creep up my throat, hot and overwhelming. I clenched my fists, willing it to go away, but my body betrayed me. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was heaving again, my entire body shaking from the force of it.
I heard Marco curse behind me.
"That's it. I'm calling the doctor."
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, turning to him with wide eyes. "No, Marco, I don't need"
But he was already moving.
He didn't even let me finish before he strode out of the room, his jaw tight, his entire frame tense with determination.
I scrambled up, my stomach twisting in both fear and anxiety. "Marco, please!"
He ignored me, reaching for the phone on the table.
Panic shot through me. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to know.
But Marco had already made the call. And there was nothing I could do to stop what was coming.
I stood frozen as Marco spoke into the phone, his voice sharp with urgency.
"She's been vomiting since this morning," he said, pacing the room. "She looks pale, weak. I don't care if she says she's fine just get here. Now."
My stomach twisted, but not from the nausea this time. It was the fear.
I wasn't ready for this.
I wasn't ready for a doctor to confirm what I already suspected deep down.
Marco hung up and turned to me, his golden eyes locking onto mine with a mix of concern and frustration.
"Why are you fighting this, Matilda?" he asked, his voice softer now. He came closer, cupping my face in his large, warm hands. "You're sick. Let me take care of you."
I swallowed hard. "I just. I don't want to hear what they'll say."
His brows furrowed. "And what do you think they'll say?"
I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes. "That I'm pregnant."
Silence.
For a moment, I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. But when I finally looked up, I saw the way his expression shifted from shock to something deeper, something unreadable.
Slowly, his grip on my face softened, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks.
"And why does that scare you?" he asked gently.
I let out a shaky breath. "Because I'm not ready. I don't know how to be a mother, Marco. I don't even know if I'll be a good one. My parents left me. I was alone. What if… what if I can't do this?"
His eyes darkened with emotion, and before I could say another word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest.
"You won't be alone," he murmured against my hair. "I'll be right here. Always."
I clenched my fists in his shirt, my body trembling.
He pulled back slightly, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
Matilda," he said firmly. "You are strong, kind, and mine. And if you are carrying my child, then they will have the most incredible mother in the world."
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I wanted to believe him I needed to believe him.
Before I could respond, a knock sounded at the door.
"The doctor is here," Marco said softly.
And just like that, reality crashed down on me.
There was no running from this now.
I did not want the doctor to touch me. Every instinct in my body screamed to pull away, to curl into myself and block out the world.
Marco was beside me, his hand firm around mine, grounding me. "It's okay, Matilda," he murmured, his thumb stroking my skin. "Just breathe, baby."
The doctor's voice was gentle, patient. "Luna, I'll be as quick as possible. Just a few tests to make sure everything is alright."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod, even as fear coiled tight in my stomach.
I flinched slightly at the cool touch of the doctor's hands, my pulse hammering in my ears. The examination was brief, but it felt like an eternity.
Then, finally, he stepped back with a small smile. "Congratulations, Luna. You're pregnant."
The world tilted.
I gasped, my fingers instinctively clutching Marco's arm. "No..." The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Pregnant?
I wasn't ready.
I couldn't be ready.
My breathing grew shallow, panic rising like a tide. My vision blurred, and I barely registered Marco shifting closer, cupping my face in his hands.
"Matilda, look at me," he said, his voice steady. I blinked up at him, my chest rising and falling too fast.
"I... I can't do this," I whispered, my throat tight.
Marco held me tightly, his arms a steady anchor as my whole world seemed to tilt.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in my mind, over and over, until it became deafening.
I barely heard the doctor speaking, barely registered Marco's reassuring words as he stroked my hair, his voice calm and soothing. But it didn't matter.
Because all I could feel was fear.
I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready for a child.
I curled into myself, my grip on Marco tightening as if holding onto him would somehow keep reality from sinking in.
"Matilda, look at me," Marco murmured, his fingers tilting my chin up gently. I kept my eyes shut, shaking my head.
I didn't want to see the truth in his eyes. I didn't want to see his excitement, his happiness because right now, all I felt was panic.
I just needed a moment.
A moment to breathe.
A moment to understand how everything had changed in an instant.
Marco didn't push. He simply pressed a kiss to my forehead, whispering words I couldn't quite focus on. His warmth surrounded me, his scent grounding me, but I still felt like I was floating adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
The doctor's voice came through the haze. "She'll need to rest. The nausea should ease in a few weeks, but I'll prescribe something to help."
Marco's grip on me tightened protectively. "I'll take care of everything."
I knew he would.
But could I?
I buried my face in his chest, willing myself to stop trembling.
Because ready or not… this was happening.