Stunned, my heart thumping an erratic beat, I hold her like that for several painful minutes, waiting for the worst of her racking sobs to subside.
“Evi, what’s wrong?” I press when I can’t take it any longer.
“N-nothing,” she says, her voice shaking. “I’m fine.”
I don’t believe that for a second, and I draw back, holding her at an arm’s length so I can look her in the eye. “You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just tired,” she whispers. “It’s been a long day.”
“Bullshit.” The word slips out before I can stop it, rougher than I intend. “I’ve seen you working your ass off for over a week. You don’t cry because you’re tired.”
Her lips tremble, and she looks away, her breath hitching. I can see her trying to pull herself together—trying to plaster that sunshine smile back on—but it’s not working. The sight of it hits me harder than it should. I didn’t think anything could crack her.
And I hate that she’s trying to hide it from me.
“Evi,” I say again, softer this time. “Talk to me. Please.”
She shakes her head. “You’ll think I’m stupid.”
“Try me.”
For a moment, she’s silent. The only sound is the steady drip of the faucet. Then she inhales shakily and murmurs, “I started my cycle.”
I blink. “Your—what?”
“My period.” She winces at the word, like it costs her to say it out loud, and her cheeks flush.
I stare at her for a beat, brain struggling to connect the dots. “Okay…?” I say slowly. “I mean, that happens, right? Why are you crying about that?”
Her chin wobbles. “Because that means I’m not pregnant.”
Ah. Now it clicks.
She’s standing there looking like she’s broken something sacred—and all because she didn’t get pregnant in our first month of marriage?Something twists inside me, a mix of confusion, guilt,and a useless desire to protect her. Because as lethal as I might be, I can’t protect her from herself.
Softly brushing her hair back from her face, I hook my finger under her chin and lift it until she meets my gaze. “Evi…”
“I know it’s dumb,” she rushes out, words tumbling over themselves. “It’s been less than a month. I know that, but after the wedding and—and all that we’ve been doing—” She stops, cheeks warming from bright pink to scarlet. “I just thought maybe…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I wanted to give you a baby. I wanted to prove I could—” Her breath hitches, and she buries her face in her hands again. “God, this is humiliating.”
For a second, I just look at her. This bright, stubborn woman who’s been smiling through chaos for days—who stepped into a house full of ghosts and decided to make it a home—and she’s crying because she thinks she failed me.
And all I can think is, she has no idea how much she’s done for me and my family already.
A quiet laugh escapes me, unplanned. It’s small, almost under my breath, and it dies quickly as her head jerks up, her eyes narrowing defensively.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No,” I say quickly, curbing my smile. “Not at you.”
“Then what?” Her tone is still hurt, her eyes brimming once more.
“I’m laughing because—Jesus, Evi, you’re being way too hard on yourself.” I reach for her hand, and though she resists for a second, she lets me take it. “You think you can just… snap yourfingers and make a baby? You’ve been through a lot this last month. Give it time.”
Her lip trembles again. “But I was supposed to?—”
“Stop.” I squeeze her hand. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. You hear me?”
She nods, but tears still spill down her cheeks. It does something to me—seeing her like that. It makes me want to find whoever or whatever made her believe she had to earn her worth and destroy it.
