✔️ SLANDEROUS INTENTIONS | +18

Chapter 43

HELENA

I had closed my eyes in pain and chaos.

Every cell of my body hurt. My mind struggled to keep my consciousness intact but failed. My eyes closed, and I didn't know if I was going to see another day.

It seems like the universe decided to spare me more days — and hopefully years — on this world. Because my mind wakes up, yet the slightest movement feels so exhausting, as if there is a deadweight on me. I feel so limp.

My mind gets back to work and resumes from where it stopped, but my thoughts are so out of order. I was stabbed. The shock has passed. I am a survivor. But my conscience gnaws at me as I reflect on my sinful deed — I am a murderer. I killed Petrov.

My hands on my belly, I gasp as a wave of anxiety and fear slithers through my body. My babies. I don't feel them moving within me. I survived, but what about them? My eyes open wide — the light in the room burning them.

The first person I see is Antonio. He sits next to the bed, arms crossed and eyes closed, his head fallen to the side while resting. My subtle gasp wakes him up. His eyes open, and he moves closer. Both his hands engulf mine lying next to me — his hold tight and warm, as his eyes are tinged with a longing I am not used to seeing.

"You're awake," he mutters, looking at me with tired eyes before helping me sit up straighter. He adjusts the pillow behind my back before I can utter a word. But the pillow is the least of my worries.

"I am," I reply, my throat dry and my eyes burning. The light in the room is too bright, sharp, and unforgiving. The emptiness in my stomach brings more tears to my eyes. Letting go of my hand, he reaches toward the nightstand.

"Would you like some water?" he asks, filling a cup. With my hand free, I move both hands toward my stomach, and I notice that my belly isn't as big as it used to be.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head and looking at him with tear-filled eyes, tears escaping and rolling down my cheeks. "My babies? Where are my babies?" I cannot lose them.

He cups my face, his hands warm and steady, trying to calm me. His familiar cologne hits my nose, and his scent calms me down a little. His soft lips pressing against my forehead feel like a sedative injection, calming my nerves.

"Shh, they're all right. They had to take them out because the knife broke your amniotic sac. They're in the intensive care unit, but they're fine, just a little premature," he says gently, pulling me into a comforting hug.

"They are all right," I repeat, placing my hands on his. They feel so warm against my sweaty palms. "And you are alive; you are not dead... he told me that you died, and that I would be his... h-he wanted to r-rape..." I don't manage to finish my sentence.

"They look like you; it takes more than a bastard to kill me, as my back is backed up, almost bulletproof with my brothers," he tells me. "And when you are my north, then my heart is the compass, always guiding me to you. I'll never let you down..."

I sigh and nod, feeling a surge of gratitude and exhaustion. He leans down and brushes a kiss on my lips. We sit like that for a while — me in his secure arms. "I'll call the doctor to check on you. Okay?" I nod again.

The moment he's gone, my mind drifts back to my children. Following my own compass, my heart tells me to go to my babies. I push myself up from the bed and walk down the corridors, searching, until I stop a nurse and ask where the baby intensive care unit is.

She tries to guide me back to my room, but with tears dropping down my face, I plead desperately. At last, she softens and leads me to the intensive care unit. We take baby steps toward my babies, as not walking for days has left my legs weak.