My fingers tighten around the phone 119

Aria’s POV
My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the werewolf medical center. This might have
been my second pregnancy, but first appointments always felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. Seeing those two pink
lines on a pregnancy test was one thing; facing a doctor and seeing the actual baby on screen was an entirely different
experience.
I closed my eyes, remembering the first time I heard Lucas’s heartbeat. I’d broken down sobbing as each tiny thump
confirmed the life growing inside me. Back then, it had felt like a death sentence—the moment I had to face the reality of
becoming a mother.
I was completely lost back then—a new mother without a guidebook, and worse, a werewolf without her wolf. What kind
of mother could I possibly be with half my identity ripped away? The memories of my own mother, Olivia, had faded to
little more than sensory fragments—the silk-smooth cascade of her midnight hair so like my own, and that radiant smile
that seemed to chase shadows from any room she entered. That golden warmth was the only inheritance I had left;
everything else had slipped through my fingers like water. My stepmother had been about as maternal as a cactus, all
sharp edges and cold distances.
I’d placed my palm against my swollen belly where Lucas grew and whispered fierce promises into the darkness: “You will
never wonder if you’re loved. You will never feel like an afterthought. I might get everything else wrong, but be never that
kind of mother.”
Six years into motherhood, I’d managed to keep those promises to Lucas. The thought brought a small smile to my lips.
This time around, caring for a helpless newborn wasn’t the terrifying mountain it had once seemed.
What tied my insides into sailor’s knots was whether this tiny being was developing properly. During my pregnancy with
Lucas, those bewildered human doctors had stared at ultrasound images with furrowed brows and concerned whispers—
unable to explain what looked like extra rows of developing teeth, or why sometimes the screen would suddenly black
out completely. I’d gripped the sides of examination tables until my knuckles turned white.
If not for Leo finding me that specialist when I was seven months along, I might have lost Lucas to some well-meaning
human doctor’s intervention. The relief of having someone who understood what was happening inside my body was
indescribable. This pregnancy might mirror the first in many ways, but at least now I wouldn’t be fighting through a fog
of confusion and terror. The fear still nipped at my heels, but it was a familiar shadow now, not the all-consuming
darkness of before.
“Aria?” A nurse called from the doorway, clipboard in hand.
“That’s me,” I answered, rising from the uncomfortable plastic chair. The nurse gave me a quick once-over before
gesturing me to follow her down the hallway. The mixed scent of antiseptic and artificial floral air freshener made my
already sensitive stomach roll.
The nurse bustled around me with practiced efficiency, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm and jotting
down numbers on her clipboard. When she reached for the scale, I fished a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket.
“I track my weight at the training camp,” I explained, unfolding the paper where I’d meticulously recorded the numbers in
my slanted handwriting. “Gained exactly one pound in the last fourteen days. Before that, nothing for weeks.”
“And when did you last shift?” The nurse’s pen hovered expectantly over her form, her eyes still fixed on the paperwork.
My throat tightened instantly, that familiar sting of inadequacy washing over me. Most werewolves would answer with
days or perhaps weeks. “Seven years ago,” I replied, the words scraping against my throat like sandpaper.
The nurse’s head snapped up, confusion wrinkling her brow as her pen froze mid-air. The silence stretched between us
like taffy.
“I was poisoned,” I added hurriedly, the familiar explanation bitter on my tongue. I gripped the edge of the examination
table, knuckles whitening. “My wolf died that night. The connection just… vanished. My physical strength is about sixty
percent of what it should be, which puts me in the high-risk category.” I swallowed hard. “My previous doctor should
have transferred my file already.”
The nurse’s expression flickered between surprise and what looked suspiciously like pity before smoothing into
professional neutrality. “I see. And this is your second pregnancy, correct?”
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“Yes,” I answered, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. “My son Lucas turns six next month.” The mention
of his name was like a talisman, instantly grounding me.
She nodded, placing a thin paper gown beside me. “Please change into this. The doctor will be in shortly.” The door
clicked shut behind her.
Alone in the sterile exam room, I held up the flimsy blue paper, so thin it was practically transparent. My chest suddenly
constricted, lungs refusing to fill properly. I pressed a palm against my breastbone, forcing myself to take slow, measured
breaths. _This isn’t like last time_, I reminded myself. _You know what’s coming. You’ve done this before_.
I methodically removed my clothes, folding each item into a neat stack. The paper gown crinkled loudly as I slipped it on,
the ties at the back barely meeting. I hoisted myself onto the examination table, the paper covering crinkling beneath me
as my legs dangled childlike above the floor.
My fingers spread protectively across my abdomen, still flat and firm beneath my touch. “We’ve got this, little one,” I
whispered, surprising myself. “It won’t be simple, but we’ll figure it out.”
A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts before the door swung open. A woman in her early forties entered, wearing a
white coat over a floral blouse. Her warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, a few strands of silver
threading through her dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.
“Aria,” she greeted, extending her hand. “I’m your doctor. It’s wonderful to meet you, and congratulations on your
pregnancy!”