Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 91: Worried

Matthew

I sit beside Sarah’s hospital bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. The machines beep quietly, a reminder that she’s still here. That both the baby and her are here, alive.

My eyes burn from exhaustion, but I can’t bring myself to close them. Every time I do, I imagine her falling, her face drained of color, that look of pure terror in her eyes. I hear her voice, so small, telling me she was bleeding.

Christ.

I thought I was going to lose her.

I run my thumb over the back of her hand, careful not to disturb the IV. Her skin is warm now, not clammy like it was when I carried her to the car. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.

Sarah shifts in her sleep, making a small sound. I lean forward, instantly alert, but her eyes remain closed. A strand of hair has fallen across her face, and I gently brush it away, letting my fingers linger against her cheek.

"I’m here," I whisper, though she can’t hear me.

Marishka was here earlier, crying her eyes out, insisting that I let her stay overnight. Both Sarah and I had to force her to go back home.

The doctor said the next twenty-four hours would be critical. That she wasn’t completely well. But the bleeding has slowed, and our baby’s heartbeat has remained steady for the past few hours.

Our baby. The thought still catches me sometimes, makes my chest tight in a way I can’t fully describe. When I heard that heartbeat today, something inside me broke open. Something I’ve been trying to hold back since Sarah told me she was pregnant for real.

I look at her belly, barely visible beneath the thin hospital blanket. Sixteen weeks. She told me the other day that it was the size of an avocado.

My throat constricts. I’ve been such an ass. Holding onto my anger like it was some kind of shield, punishing her for the past instead of focusing on our future. And for what? So I could feel righteous? So I could make her suffer a little longer?

None of that seemed important when I thought I might lose her.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from Rebecca.

"Any updates?"

I quickly type a response. "She’s sleeping. Doctor says she’s stable."

A moment later, Rebecca replies.

"Thank God. Do you want Josh and me to come by tonight? He is very worried about her."

I glance at Sarah again. She looks so fragile under the fluorescent lights, but there’s a calm to her face now. Peaceful. I don’t want that disturbed.

I text back: "No. Let her rest. Tomorrow morning’s better."

Rebecca doesn’t argue.

I set the phone down and lean back in the chair, rubbing my hands over my face. I should try to sleep too, but I know I won’t. Not while she’s like this. I’ve spent so long pretending I didn’t care, guarding myself, keeping her at a distance. And now I just want to crawl into bed beside her and wrap her up in my arms.

She shivers in her sleep.

I reach for the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and gently lay it over her. She doesn’t stir, but her shivering stops. I sit back down, rubbing the heels of my hands against my tired eyes.

The door opens softly, and a nurse enters with a clipboard.

"How’s she doing?" she whispers, checking the monitors.

"Sleeping," I reply, my voice rough.

The nurse nods, making a note. "That’s good. Her vitals are stable." She gives me a sympathetic look. "You should get some rest too, you know. There’s a recliner in the corner that pulls out. I can bring you a pillow and blanket."

I shake my head. "I’m fine."

She doesn’t push it, just checks Sarah’s IV and adjusts the blanket before leaving.

Alone again, I let my mind wander back to earlier today. To Josh showing up at our house. To my childish jealousy. God, what was I thinking? Fighting with her over something so stupid when she’s carrying our child.

I fucking stressed her out, didn’t I?

She’d been so happy, laughing with him. And I’d been so determined to be cold, to make her feel my disapproval.

Idiot.

Sarah stirs again, her eyelids fluttering. I lean forward, holding my breath.

"Matthew?" she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

"I’m here." I take her hand, squeezing gently. "How are you feeling?"

She blinks slowly, orienting herself. "Tired. Sore." Her free hand moves to her belly. "The baby?"

"Still good," I assure her quickly. "Heart rate’s been steady. Doctor says that’s a really good sign."

Relief washes over her face. She looks around the dim hospital room, then back at me. "You stayed."

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. "Of course, I stayed."

She studies my face. "You look terrible."

A surprised laugh escapes me. "Thanks."

"No, I mean—" She shifts, wincing slightly. "You look exhausted. Have you slept at all?"

I shrug. "Not important."

Sarah frowns. "It is important. You should sleep."

"I’m fine," I insist.

She sighs. "You are very stubborn."

I kiss the tip of her nose. "And you are very argumentative."

Sarah’s lips twitch faintly, as if she wants to smile but doesn’t quite have the strength. "Fine then."

She closes her eyes again. Her breathing evens out. She looks pale and worn out, but there is this softness in her expression that makes me want to kiss her again and again.

Maybe it’s time I start letting the past go. Maybe it’s time I let myself be happy with her. With our baby.

~-~

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I open my eyes next, I see sunlight seeping through the blinds.

My neck aches from the awkward angle, and my legs are stiff from being curled in the hospital recliner. I blink away the blur of sleep and sit up slowly, instinctively looking to Sarah.

She’s awake.

Her eyes are open, watching me.

"Hey," she whispers.

My heart thuds in relief. "Hey yourself." I rub the back of my neck, trying to shake off the grogginess. "How long have you been awake?"

"A little while," she says. "I didn’t want to wake you. You look extra handsome when you sleep."

I give her a look.

She smiles faintly. There’s a hint of color in her cheeks again, and it makes my chest loosen just a little.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"Better," she murmurs.

The door to the room opens, making both of us jump. Sarah’s father rushes in first, his face flushed with panic, followed by her mother who has a grim expression on her face.

"Sarah! Oh my God, darling!" Her father is at the bedside in an instant.

"Dad," Sarah breathes, surprise evident in her voice. "Mom. What are you—how did you know?"

Her father’s face is ashen. "Marishka called us," he explains, his usually booming voice subdued in the hospital setting. "

"I am fine, really," Sarah protests weakly, but I can see tears gathering in her eyes.