Page 124 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“It’s okay,” Amai murmured, his hand still moving in those steady circles on my back. “Let it out.”

I hated that he was seeing this. Hated that he was here, witnessing the unglamorous, brutal reality of pregnancy. This wasn’t the version of me he’d made love to last night—the woman who’d looked up at him with trust and desire, who’d let him snatch her soul in front of the fireplace. This was the versionno one wanted to see. The version that was messy, weak, and human.

But he didn’t leave.

He stayed right beside me, holding my hair, rubbing my back, his presence steady and unshakable.

When the nausea finally subsided—or at least paused long enough for me to catch my breath—I slumped forward, resting my forehead against my arm on the toilet seat. My body felt wrung out, exhausted, like I’d just run a marathon. My mouth tasted like acid and regret.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“For what?”

I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say?For being gross. For making you see this. For not seeing who your brother really is.

Amai let go of my hair and stood. For a second, I thought he was leaving. But then I heard the faucet turn on, the sound of water running. A moment later, he was back, kneeling beside me again.

“Here.”

He pressed a cold, damp towel to the back of my neck, and the relief was immediate. The coolness seeped into my skin, cutting through the nausea and the dizziness, grounding me. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation—the weight of the towel, the chill against my overheated skin, the way it made everything feel just a little more bearable.

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.

His hand returned to my back, rubbing slow, soothing circles again. He didn’t say anything else. Just stayed there with me, patient and present, like he had all the time in the world.

I didn’t know how long we sat like that. Long enough for my breathing to even out. Long enough for the nausea to recedeto a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. Long enough for the embarrassment to settle into something quieter, something I could almost live with.

Finally, I lifted my head and looked at him.

He was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read—concern, maybe, but something else too. Something softer. Something that made my breath hitch in a way that had nothing to do with nausea.

“I hated not being there for this part,” he said quietly.

I blinked, confused. “What?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely toward the toilet, toward me. “The morning sickness. The hard parts. I hated that I wasn’t there for it.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. He sounded… regretful. Like he’d missed something important. Like he wished he could have been there from the beginning, holding my hair back, and rubbing my back and making sure I was okay.

“You weren’t supposed to be,” I said, my voice still rough.

“I know.” His jaw tightened slightly, and he looked away, his hand still resting on my back. “But I should have been there anyway.”

His voice was raw and unguarded—that made my throat tighten. This wasn’t the ruthless crime boss who’d stabbed his own brother. This wasn’t the man who’d beat the hell out of my ex. This was someone else. Someone who’d been denied something he didn’t even know he wanted until it was too late.

“I was cool with the contract,” he continued, his voice low. “When I thought that’s all it was—when I thought I’d just be… a donor, a name on a piece of paper—I told myself it was enough. If I couldn’t have it all, I’d settle for a piece of happiness. A piece of something real.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just listened.

“I never believed I could have a wife,” he said, and there was something almost bitter in the way he said it. “Or a child. Not really. Not in my world. That wasn’t… it wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t something I was allowed to want.”

His hand stilled on my back, and he looked at me again, his dark eyes holding mine.

“So, I settled,” he said. “I told myself a piece was better than nothing. That I could live with that.”

My chest ached. Not from nausea, but from Amai opening up to me. It was like he was trying to let me in. He wanted me to know his why. The reason we were sitting here on a bathroom floor, each one exposing something different.