Henods, coughing lightly that I rub the nape of his neck to soothe him.
Silence stretches between us. The machines fill it easily. I count the rhythm of his breathing, the slight delay between each assisted rise and fall.
“Damon and I planned for this,” he continues. “With Darius. Set threatened to take away his son from him, but Darius can be…triggeredto do what Set says.”
“Slow down,” I say, sighing.
Idris nods, frowning. “Set used the same methods as Clo. Kys, programming. Darius was the first success. He spared me from that fate by being our father’s executioner.”
I look away, frowning over their misfortune. It was there all along, but I hadn’t noticed. They hid their nightmares well.
“Em, I’m sorry, but Damon will be hiding me away,” he explains. “I’ll be living covertly.”
My breath stops. “For how long?”
“A long while,” he whispers. “I’ll only be out of reach, Em. It’ll take time, but once we take down Set, I’ll come back to you.”
The plan’s practical, but my heart holds different ideas.
Idris is my closest companion, my dearest friend. Someone I’ve spent so much time with, that words don’t need to be said for us to know we can rely on each other.
He brings my hand closer to his lips. I stare at the motion, wondering why he doesn’t listen when I tell him to save his energy.
When I look at his face, I see his smile as he kisses my knuckles, and my worries disappear.
“Idris, it’ll be difficult, but I…” A bittersweet smile pulls at my pursed lips. “I trust you.”
His eyes widen at that, searching my face. “I trust you too,” he says. “And I’ll miss you so much.”
“Both of us?” I ask, placing my hand deliberately on my lower abdomen, where sure enough a slight bump has been developing.
This time, it’s his breath that hitches. But that’s concerning, considering his state, so I urge him to breathe by letting him see my visible breath, my chest lifting and lowering.
He mirrors it well, even when he lets out a shaky chuckle, sounding surprised.
“So you know,” he whispers, looking rather relieved now that the secret’s out.
Nodding, I say, “It took me time, but the pieces came together.” I let out a short, light giggle. “The other day, you nearly said the pills you made for me contained prenatal vitamins.”
“So you caught that, didn’t you?” Idris looks pained when his smile stretches. “Truthfully, it’s a weight off my shoulders, but I’m so sorry I kept it from you.” He groans. “I couldn’t risk putting more stress on your body when you’re carrying my child for me.”
He braces, I can tell. His fingers tense faintly around mine, breath shallow again, as if preparing for a less ideal reaction.
I smile more genuinely instead.
It surprises him. Relief crosses his expression so quickly it almost hurts to witness, like he had been holding his breath longer than he realized.
“While I waited to see you, I thought about the past few weeks. How you didn’t want to show me my blood results,” I say. “That suggested there were markers you didn’t want me to see. Then you replaced my coffee with ginger tea. You, Lix, and Stan became unusually attentive about my meals and rest. And there was the matter of my pills’ contents.”
A soft laugh slips out of him, followed by a wince that makes me caress his chest with our entwined hands.
“But what confirmed it,” I say after a moment, “was Stan.”
His brow furrows, then relaxes, as he listens.
“On occasion, he talks in his sleep,” I explain. “One night he was holding me and whispering about how I’d be a great mom soon.” I hesitate, then add, “And how he couldn’t wait to—as he put it—put more babies in me.”
Idris exhales, a sound caught between relief and disbelief.
