Silence No More

06. War is Coming

Mr Rikkard Ambrose stiffened as if electrocuted. His gaze flicked between me and the man in the doorway. And the look in his eyes...

Up until now, I had not understood the true meaning of the word "torn". But right at this moment, Mr Ambrose looked as if he might tear himself in two at any moment. If one half could run up north to save his sister, and the other stay to protect his wife and child, why not? After all, it would save so much time. Or maybe—

"Don't you dare!" I hissed into his ear.

"What do you mean, Mrs Ambrose? I—"

"Don't play games with me! You can't be in two places at once!" Sliding my arms around him, I hugged him fiercely. "I know you want to be. I do, too. But you can't."

"I...I know. But I have to! I can't leave Adaira alone with him!" He looked at me. He looked at me in a way that hurt. "I...if I leave Karim here with you—"

"Don't even think about it, Mister!" I jabbed a finger into his face. "Don't you dare think about leaving me behind! Adaira is like my sister! If you go to save her, I go to save her!"

"But you...in your condition..."

"Don't worry!" I forced a smile on my face. "I already feel much better! I could run a mile and be perfectly fine. Let me show you!" Leaving Berty in his arms, I swiftly slid my legs out of bed, stood up—and promptly fell forward. "Aaagh!"

"Lilly!"

Faster than a flash, Mr Ambrose leapt to his feet and caught me just before I could hit the ground. Lifting me in a princess carry ere I could utter a single word of protest, he firmly placed me back onto the bed beside my son, who was watching the whole show with interest.

"You." He stabbed a finger at me. "Don't. Move."

"But—"

"No argument! You've just given birth today! You are not going anywhere until you've had a chance to recuperate. A week, at the very least!"

"A week?!"

His stern gaze didn't waver. "You are aware that the usual lying-in period for new mothers can go up to two months, correct?"

At that, I almost started to shoot fire from my eyes. Lying-in? Confinement? Me?

"Of course, I am a man who supports modern and feminist views," Mr Rikkard Ambrose lied with admirable shamelessness, "so I will only insist on a confinement of one week, for your own good, naturally."

My eyes narrowed. "Three hours."

His eyes narrowed in response, if only infinitesimally. "Six days. You will be of no use to anyone if you can't even walk."

"Six hours. I recover fast."

"Says the woman who spent several weeks puking her guts out due to morning sickness. Five days."

"Twelve hours. I don't think I'll be having any morning sickness now, do you?"

"One never knows with you, Mrs Ambrose. Four days."

"Oh, I know a few things for certain." I gifted him with a beatific smile. "For example, if a certain someone continues to be unreasonable, said someone is going to have to live without female companionship for the next two years. Twenty-four hours."

"I have lived for over two decades without it. I think I can manage. Three days."

"That was before you met me. A day and a half."

"You do think highly of yourself, don't you? Two days. My last offer, Mrs Ambrose."

"Says the man who asked to marry me." I took a deep breath, considered—then nodded. "Acceptable."