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Chapter 68 – Arya's POV
"Liam Always Knows"
I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it.
The extra naps. The snacks I now kept in every bag and drawer. The way I turned green every time someone opened a jar of pickles near me. Damon had caught on almost immediately — but Liam?
He was just a kid.
Smart, yes. Observant? Sometimes. But surely, at six years old, he couldn't piece together something as big as this… right?
Wrong.
It started with the carrots.
I'd made his favorite — honey-glazed chicken with mashed potatoes and carrots. But I couldn't stand the smell of the carrots that day. Just one whiff sent a wave of nausea rolling through me. So, I served his plate and left mine half-full, poking at the food with my fork while trying to look normal.
Liam narrowed his eyes immediately.
"You're not eating the carrots," he said mid-bite.
I smiled quickly. "I'm just not in the mood."
He chewed slowly, eyes still locked on me. "You always eat the carrots. You said they help your skin glow."
I forced a laugh. "I guess I already glow enough today."
He didn't laugh.
Instead, he put down his fork and leaned on the table like a tiny detective. "Is something wrong with you?"
That made me pause.
"What? No—of course not. Why would you ask that?"
"You've been sleeping a lot," he listed, fingers counting. "You cried when your necklace broke, and that was just a necklace. And yesterday, you yelled at the TV during the cartoon because the lady was 'breathing too loud.'"
I blinked.
Okay, so maybe I hadn't been as subtle as I thought.
Liam tilted his head, brown eyes studying me the same way Damon did when he was trying to read my mood.
Then he whispered, "Is it a grown-up sick?"
I sighed and reached for his hand. "No, baby. I promise. I'm not sick."
His eyes softened, but his brows pulled together again, as if he was still working through a math problem in his head.
Then he smiled.
The sly kind.
The I-know-something-you-don't-think-I-know kind.
"Are you going to have a baby?"
I froze.
Just like that, the world stopped spinning.
My fingers went still in his tiny hand, and I stared at him in disbelief.
"Liam…"
"Because," he continued like he hadn't just dropped a truth bomb on me, "that's what happened with Noah's mom at school. She got mad when the microwave beeped too loud, and then she cried during his spelling test, and now Noah has a baby sister."
I pressed my lips together, caught between laughter and tears.
Smart.
So incredibly smart.
I took a deep breath and nodded slowly.
"Yes," I said gently. "You're right. I'm going to have a baby."
His eyes widened.
"Really?!"
I nodded again. "Really."
He jumped up from his chair and ran around the table before throwing his arms around my waist. "I KNEW it!"
I held him tightly, my heart swelling with love and fear and everything in between. He was so warm. So little. And already a big brother.
He pulled back just enough to look up at me. "So... like… the baby's in your belly now?"
"Yes."
"How did it get in there?"
I blinked. "Uhh… magic."
He squinted. "Dad said that's not a real answer."
"Dad also said you could have cookies before dinner last night."
He giggled. "Okay, fine."
We both sat down, and I reached for his tiny hands again.
"Liam, I need you to know something," I said seriously. "Having another baby doesn't mean I'll love you any less, okay? You'll always be my first baby. My miracle."
"I know," he said confidently.
"And things might change a little. I might be more tired or get grumpy sometimes."
"Like last week when you cried because your charger was missing but it was in your hand the whole time?"
I gave him a playful look. "Yes. Like that."
He smiled. "It's okay, Mommy. I'll help you. I can be the baby's big brother trainer."
I laughed, heart swelling so fast it almost hurt.
"You're going to be the best big brother in the world."
He nodded proudly. "I know."
---
That night, I tucked him in and stayed by his side longer than usual, just watching him breathe. My little boy — already growing so fast, already adjusting to things he didn't ask for but somehow understood better than most adults.
Telling him had terrified me.
But his joy? His confidence?
It soothed something in me I hadn't even realized was hurting.
Because for the first time since I saw those two pink lines…
I wasn't just scared anymore.
I was excited.
Hopeful.
Maybe even… ready.