Evaline:
I stirred from sleep slowly, almost unwillingly. The warmth of the bed and the steady rhythm of soone’s hand moving through my hair kept from leaving behind this rare mont of peace.
Whoever it was, they had such a gentle touch - so soft, so careful - it made want to stay in that limbo between sleep and awareness for just a little longer.
But the hand stilled, and that sudden pause pulled from my comfort. I blinked open my eyes and the hospital room’s dim lighting greeted first... and then him.
Draven.
I almost didn’t believe it. For a long second, I wondered if I was dreaming again - like I had on the other nights since Friday, where my subconscious conjured him just to break all over again when I woke up alone. But this wasn’t a dream.
He was here.
He was sitting beside with that familiar stoic expression, his eyes shadowed with sothing deeper. Guilt? Regret? Relief? I didn’t know.
We stared at each other while locked in a silence that was pressing like a weight on my chest. I wanted to say sothing. Stars, I needed to say sothing. But the words got stuck sowhere between my throat and heart.
What was I supposed to say?
I was glad to see him, but terrified too. My gaze drank him in, finding him as beautiful as I rembered. But unlike Oscar, he didn’t rush to hold , to kiss my forehead, or tell everything was going to be alright. No, Draven was not Oscar. I had to stop expecting him to be.
"I heard from Oscar," he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter than usual, but still rough, slightly scratchy, as if he hadn’t spoken much in days. "He told what happened. I ca to check on you imdiately."
I nodded, still unsure whether this was a dream or reality.
"It’s half past nine," he added while glancing toward the window though it was already dark outside. "Oscar has gone to speak with the doctor, and Rowan is in the hallway outside."
"I see..." I said, my voice raspier than I expected. "Thanks for coming."
His brows pinched slightly at that, like he didn’t know how to respond. "How are you feeling?" he asked finally.
I hesitated, then answered, "Better... much better."
He nodded. That was it. We didn’t talk about Friday. We didn’t talk about the cottage or the secrets or the pain that still was lingering between us. We just... sat.
His presence filled the room, grounding in a way only mates could. But there was still a distance between us, emotional and fragile. I didn’t want to push him, and maybe he didn’t know what to say either.
"Take care of yourself, Eva," he said after a few monts of silence. "Don’t scare people like this again."
His tone was casual, but the weight in it struck deeper. Was he talking about himself? Was he scared to hear about ?
I didn’t dare ask. Maybe it was just my heart hoping for more than I deserved.
The door creaked open then, saving from answering. Oscar stepped in and his eyes imdiately lit up as they landed on .
"You are awake," he exhaled and crossed the room in three long strides. He then leaned down and kissed my forehead tenderly. "How are you feeling now?"
I smiled softly. "I think I have fully recovered."
He smiled back, the warmth in his eyes comforting in a way that softened so of the ache still inside .
Rowan followed him in, with his arms crossed and eyes scanning and then my mates.
"Instructor Oscar’s been trying to convince the nurses to let him stay the night," he inford . "Unfortunately, hospital policy allows only one person."
Oscar opened his mouth to protest, but I quickly turned to Rowan. "You should go rest," I told him gently. "You have looked after for the better half of the day."
He raised an eyebrow at , clearly unimpressed with the suggestion. "And you think he’s going to be any less annoying than ?" he asked, nodding toward Oscar. Then he leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "Keep the nightly activities lowkey, okay? You need rest."
My eyes widened and a wave of heat crawled up my neck as his implication registered... and the fact that both Alphas in the room had clearly heard him loud and clear.
"Rowan!" I hissed under my breath.
He chuckled and winked before giving Oscar a mock salute and muttering sothing like "She’s all yours" before walking out of the room.
Oscar didn’t comnt, though the slight flush on my cheeks made his lips twitch. Draven, on the other hand, was looking like he wanted to murder soone.
Oscar turned back to and his smile faded into a more serious look.
"I talked to the doctor," he began. "They are going to run so tests on you within next ten minutes."
Confused, I asked, "What kind of tests?"
"Prenatal," he said gently. "You are four months along, and I just want to make sure everything’s alright with the baby."
"I was at the clinic last month," I protested weakly. "Everything was fine."
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear gently as he spoke, "Still, I want you to get checked up here. This is one of the best hospitals around the Academy. And it’s close - just a fifteen-minute drive downhill. Once classes get heavy, you won’t have to worry about traveling too far for checkups."
I frowned, but before I could argue again, he added, "I promised to take care of this baby with you, didn’t I? That ans I get to be worried about both of you."
My throat tightened, and I looked away before he could see the tears forming.
This was happening. He ant it.
Draven hadn’t moved from his chair, but I was feeling his presence like a storm cloud behind - silent, tense, and watching.
"I’m not trying to control anything," Oscar added. "But I want to be involved. I want to be there, from now on. No matter what tests need to be done, what vitamins you need, what late-night cravings you have... I want to do this right, Eva."
My fingers curled around the bedsheet as a strange mix of guilt, gratitude, and affection surged through .
How did I get so lucky... yet so terrified?
I nodded slowly. "Okay... we’ll do the tests."
He smiled and kissed my forehead again. And out of the corner of my eye, I glanced toward Draven.
He was still quiet. But his eyes... they were no longer blank. They were watching , watching us, with sothing far more complicated than just indifference.
And even though he hadn’t said much... I knew he cared.
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