Free Web NovelChapter 138: Chapter 138
I woke up at 5 AM with my stomach already staging a rebellion. I threw off the covers and ran for the bathroom, barely making it before everything came up.
Strong hands immediately gathered my hair back. Christian’s other hand rubbed soothing circles on my back while I was completely miserable over the toilet.
"I’ve got you," he murmured. "Just breathe. It’ll pass."
This was our third morning in a row doing this exact routine. You’d think I’d get used to it, but nope. Still absolutely horrible every single time.
When I finally finished, Christian helped me rinse my mouth and guided me back to bed. He’d already set up crackers and ginger tea on the nightstand—Diana’s anti-nausea arsenal.
"Here." He placed a cool washcloth on my forehead and helped me sit up against the pillows. "Eat a few crackers slowly."
I nibbled one while he sat beside me, stroking my hair. "You don’t have to stay. I know you have morning patrol."
"Marcus can handle it."
"Christian—"
"I’m staying until you’re settled." His voice left no room for argument.
I managed three crackers and a few sips of tea before my stomach decided it might not immediately reject everything. Small victories.
An hour later, I made it downstairs for breakfast. Big mistake.
The moment I walked into the dining hall and smelled Elder Margaret’s bacon and eggs, my stomach flipped violently. I tried to hide it—really tried—but my face must have gone green because Christian was across the room and at my side in seconds.
"Excuse me," I managed to say before speed-walking back toward the bathroom.
I heard the whispers as I left. People were definitely noticing.
Diana found me in the bathroom afterward, looking way too put-together for someone who’d just witnessed me dry heaving.
"Okay, enough." She set a small bag on the counter. "You’re using these remedies whether you like it or not." ƒгeewёbnovel.com
"I’m fine—"
"You’re miserable and stubborn." She pulled out various items. "Ginger candies, peppermint tea, acupressure wristbands, and anti-nausea medication that’s safe for pregnancy."
She demonstrated how to put on the wristbands—these elastic things with little pressure points that supposedly helped with nausea. "Wear these. Take the medication if you need it. And stop trying to tough it out like you have something to prove."
"I just don’t want everyone thinking I’m weak."
"Sophie." Diana’s voice softened. "You’re growing a person. That’s literally the opposite of weak. Now use the damn remedies."
I returned to the dining hall with plain toast and a forced smile. Marcus was discussing supply distribution for the sanctuary families, and I tried to focus despite feeling awful.
Several pack members kept glancing at me. Great. Nothing like becoming the pack’s morning entertainment.
Christian sat close enough that his hand occasionally brushed my knee under the table. Every time I shifted uncomfortably, he’d look at me with those worried green eyes.
"Do you need a break?" he asked quietly during a lull in conversation.
"I’m fine," I whispered back, even though I absolutely was not fine.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t push it.
By 2 PM, I was in the Luna office trying to review sanctuary integration reports. Key word: trying. My eyes kept closing on their own, like someone had installed automatic shutters in my eyelids.
I stood up and paced around the office, hoping movement would help. It didn’t. I felt like I was walking through cement.
My head hit the desk at some point. Just for a second, I told myself. Just rest my eyes for one second.
I woke up being lifted. Christian’s arms were under me, carrying me like I weighed nothing.
"Christian?" My voice came out groggy.
"Shh. Sleep." He placed me gently on our bed, removed my shoes, and covered me with a blanket.
I tried to protest that I had work to do, but unconsciousness claimed me before I could form words.
When I woke up around 6 PM, I was immediately nauseous again. The bathroom trip was becoming muscle memory at this point.
Christian appeared within seconds—seriously, did he have some kind of Sophie-is-about-to-throw-up radar?—and resumed the hair-holding, back-rubbing routine.
But this time, I started crying. Like, really crying. Ugly crying with snot and hiccupping sobs.
"I hate this," I sobbed. "I hate feeling so useless. I can’t even make it through a day without falling asleep or throwing up. Some Luna I am."
Christian pulled me into his arms, my face against his chest. "You’re not useless. You’re the strongest person I know."
"I’m literally crying on the bathroom floor."
"You’re growing our baby. That’s the hardest work there is." He kissed the top of my head. "And you’re still trying to do everything else on top of it. That’s not a weakness, Sophie. That’s strength."
I cried harder because the hormones made everything feel bigger and more emotional than it should be.
When I finally calmed down enough to breathe normally, Christian helped me back to the bedroom. That’s when I noticed things looked different.
The sharp corners of our nightstand had foam padding. The bathroom had a new non-slip mat. The closet was reorganized with my stuff at easier heights.
"Did you... baby-proof our room?"
Christian rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. "Maybe. A little. While you were sleeping."
"A little?" I gestured at the foam corner guards. "Christian, the baby won’t even be crawling for months after it’s born."
"I know, but..." He pulled out a box from under the bed. Cabinet locks. Outlet covers. A baby monitor still in packaging. "I wanted to be prepared. Is that weird?"
