Renata
I’m sipping on some weak soup when my door slams open and Rokiades storms in. His chest is heaving, but I’m not sure if it’s from anger or exertion. When he opens his mouth, it becomes clear that the answer is “both.”
“You!” he barks, glaring at the maid standing next to me. “Get out. Now.”
She doesn’t wait around to be told twice.
Rokiades doesn’t immediately say anything to me after the maid scurries out of the room, slamming the door behind her. He just keeps pacing, like an enraged bull with no sense of direction.
My stomach twists a little as I realize the news that must have brought on this reaction. He knows. He fucking knows.
I decide that the only way to deal with this is ignorance. Deny, deny, deny. “Something wrong?” I ask innocently.
His eyes snap to me. “You little whore. You’re pregnant!”
I work my face into an expression of suitable shock. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s not possible,” I dismiss confidently. “There must be some mistake.”
“There is no mistake,” Rokiades growls. “You’re pregnant. The tests fucking proved it.”
“I can’t get pregnant,” I say. “It’s medically impossible.”
Keep it together, I’m screaming at myself internally. Keep your shit together.
“Don’t play pretend with me,” he hisses. “You knew!”
“I didn’t know anything,” I lie smoothly. “I assure you I had no idea. I’m not even really sure I believe you right now.”
“I spoke to your fucking maids! Two of them reported that you’ve been throwing up at odd hours of the day.”
“Because you force me to go running every morning!” I snap back. “I eat nothing and exercise for hours each day. My body can only take so much.”
Apparently, I’m convincing enough, because Rokiades starts to look less rattled. He stops pacing and plops into the chair beside my bed, rubbing his mustache and gazing into the middle distance.
“He’s the father, isn’t he?” Rokiades asks with a sudden and eerie sense of calm.
Why deny it at this point? I want to scream in his face, Yes! Yes, he is, you fucking bastard, and there’s nothing you can do about that. He’s the father, you’re not, and I hope that makes you so goddamn angry.
But I don’t. Saying the words out loud would make it real. I want to keep this child to myself for as long as I can, before the world does what it does best: snatches everything pure away from me.
Rokiades doesn’t care whether I confirm it or not, though. “I didn’t realize how far it went between you two,” he mutters. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Does he know?”
I sit still. Saying nothing. Doing nothing. Hardly even breathing.
His eyes are dark when he finally looks at me again. “What to do with you now? You and the runt in your womb…”
The way his eyes flicker to my stomach makes me immediately protective. And instantly scared. “You can’t hurt my baby,” I blurt out.
There. I said it. I don’t know whether to be relieved that the secret is out… or horrified of what happens next.
His palm flashes out and slaps across my face. I blink away the sting, but I don’t cry out or tear up. Let him do what he wants. I don’t care how many times he slaps me. I don’t care about anything anymore.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want!” he snarls. “I own you. Which means I own that baby, too.”
My hands curl protectively over my abdomen. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.