"What...?" Her brain felt foggy, trying to catch up.
Genesis blinked groggily, her brows furrowing as she turned slightly and felt sothing wet beneath her. Beside her, there was movent—like soone was shifting around. Slowly, she forced her eyes open. The light stung at first, and she instinctively shut them again before managing to keep them open long enough to focus.
Her vision cleared.
Kieran.
He was crouched at the foot of the bed, almost between her legs, scrubbing sothing on the sheets. His jaw was tight, his movents fast, frantic.
Huh?
She lay there, still and silent, watching him.
What happened?
He didn’t realize she was awake until she shifted upright, the mattress creaking slightly beneath her weight. His eyes snapped up. For a mont, they simply stared at each other, frozen.
Her gaze dropped to his hands. He was holding a pink cleaning brush. Then her eyes followed—slowly, cautiously—to the sheets. A dark stain, almost cleaned now, marked the spot between her legs.
Blood.
And then the realization clicked like a door swinging wide.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the hem of her nightgown. She pressed her fingers gently between her thighs, and when she brought them back up—her heart sank.
Red.
Her bloodied hand shook as she bit her lower lip hard.
She had gotten her period.
Which ant—she wasn’t pregnant.
The brush clattered as Kieran dropped it into a bowl. In an instant, he was at her side, cupping her face with urgency.
"Look at , baby. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care that you’re not pregnant, so don’t be upset," he rushed out, his voice strained, trying to sound calm—but he wasn’t.
Genesis stared up at him, wide-eyed, tears stinging the backs of her eyes.
And then it hit her. He had been cleaning the bed so she wouldn’t have to wake up to it. He didn’t want the first thing she saw, the first thing she felt, to be sadness.
Her lips trembled as he gently took her bloodied hand in his and clasped it with her other. He kissed their joined hands.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Don’t cry, Princess," he whispered again, kissing her knuckles. "It doesn’t matter." His voice cracked, low and desperate. He pressed his forehead to her hands.
His grip trembled, though he tried to stay strong.
Genesis swallowed hard, but her throat was tight. Her shoulders began to shake. Silent tears stread freely as her lips parted—but no words ca out. Just a breath. Just pain.
Kieran didn’t move.
He held her to his chest tightly. Her bloodied hands pressed against his bare skin, staining him, but he didn’t care. He just held her.
Later...
"Cancel all my etings, Rachel. I’m not coming in today," Kieran murmured into his phone, his eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door.
Rachel, his assistant, sputtered in disbelief. "W–What? But, sir, you have a eting with the chairman of Charmaine—"
"I said cancel them. Reschedule. I didn’t say I’ll never show up."
"But sir... it’s the chairman. Your father—"
He hung up.
The phone landed on the bed just as the shower door opened and closed.
She stepped out.
Their eyes t.
Genesis instantly looked away, retreating into the walk-in closet. Her towel was wrapped tightly around her, and she held onto it like it was the only thing holding her together.
But Kieran saw it.
It wasn’t the towel she was holding—it was herself.
Her steps were slow, unsure, like each one might break her.
Kieran clenched his fists, watching helplessly as she disappeared into the closet and shut the door.
He followed. Pressed a hand to the wood. Pressed his forehead to it.
Behind the door, Genesis leaned against the other side. Her body trembled. Tears fell freely from her wet face as pain throbbed in her chest.
She had told herself not to hope. She knew better.
But... she had hoped.
She thought, maybe, if she was pregnant, it would prove that the thing Monica made her take hadn’t ruined her. That the poison in her past hadn’t stolen her future.
But now?
She felt ruined all over again.
Kieran had never once used protection. He always gave her everything. Every ti. And now—this blood felt like failure. Like proof.
Like she had disappointed him.
Genesis clamped her hand over her mouth and slid down until she was on the floor. She curled in on herself, head tucked between her knees, and sobbed.
Kieran stood there on the other side, frozen.
Should he go in?
Every word he’d said earlier seed to make things worse. He wasn’t good at comfort. He’d never had to be.
Not until her.
He leaned against the door, he couldn’t hear anything but he knew she was crying. And it cracked sothing in him wide open.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once. Twice. Then stopped. Snatched his phone from the bed.
Siri popped up.
"What can I help you with?"
Kieran glared at the screen. "How do I make my woman stop crying?"
A pause. Then Siri responded, flatly, "Here are so articles on relationship advice and emotional support."
He swiped them away. "I don’t want articles. I want answers."
Frustrated, he opened Google and typed:
how to make the love of your life feel better when she’s crying because she thought she was pregnant and now she’s not and it’s your fault sohow even though it’s not but it is and she won’t co out the closet and I suck at talking about feelings but I love her and she won’t even look at .
He stared at the blinking cursor.
"...Shit."
Search results appeared:
10 Romantic Ways to Cheer Her Up
Is it Normal to Cry After a Negative Pregnancy Test?
When Your Partner is Grieving: What to Do
Make Her Feel Safe: What Words Matter Most
Kieran squinted.
"What the hell is number five? ’Buy her a weighted blanket’? What is that supposed to fix?"
He shut his eyes. Exhaled hard through his nose like a bull about to lose it.
Typed again, this ti simpler:
how to say sorry when you’re bad with emotions
That one made him pause.
He clicked on a forum post that read:
"If you don’t have the words, show her. Don’t disappear. Be steady. Be soft. Be present. Even if you sit outside that door the whole damn day, let her know you’re there."
Kieran stared at the screen. His jaw clenched. So did his throat.
Then he dropped the phone on the bed. Walked back to the closet. Sat down. Back against the sa door she was behind.
He didn’t speak. Just sat there in silence.
One fist rested on his knee. The other reached behind to knock—just once.
A few seconds passed.
Then, quietly, he leaned his head back and said, voice low but steady:
"I don’t know how to fix this."
Silence.
"I don’t know the right thing to say. I’m... not good at this. At feelings. But I’m trying. For you."
He exhaled slowly. "I googled it, you know." A dry chuckle escaped him. "I literally asked Google how to comfort my woman because I’ve never had to do this for anyone else before. Never wanted to."
A soft sniffle ca from behind the door.
"If I could rip the sadness out of you with my bare hands, I would. But I don’t know how. And it’s driving insane."
He pressed his palm to the door again, like he wished it could touch her through it.
"But I’m still here. Right here. Even if you don’t open the door. Even if you don’t talk. I’ll sit here till your tears dry. Till you breathe easier. I’ll be your stupid Google search if that’s what it takes."
There was a pause.
Then... the soft click of the door unlocking.
Kieran didn’t move. Didn’t push it open.
He waited.
The door creaked open slowly.
And there she was—Genesis. Eyes swollen and red. Face pale. Towel clutched tight to her chest. Legs trembling.
She didn’t speak.
She just collapsed into his arms.
And Kieran caught her like she was made of glass. Wrapped himself around her like armor. Pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, voice cracking now that she was finally in his arms. "I’m so fucking sorry, Princess."
And he rocked her. Heart pounding.
Whispering again and again that she wasn’t alone.
That he was here.
That he wasn’t going anywhere.
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