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Who would have thought we would find one outside our bungalow of all places? We’ve been on countless safaris and come up empty every single time.
“How did you even see it? It’s so dark outside.”
“It set off the motion-censored spotlight. I thought it would run away before I had a chance to come get you, but it seemed more curious than anything. Probably it was thirsty enough to stick around.”
“Or hungry enough.” I shudder at the thought. Declan and I have found multiple animals all looming around the river, taking their fill of water. I’m sure some even sleep by it.
I don’t know how much time passes, but Declan and I sit together in an empty tub watching the leopard as it prowls around the area. It feels like hours pass us by as the moon slowly begins its descent.
“Did it meet your expectations?” he asks as the leopard disappears back into the bush.
“Yes!” I turn and throw my arms around him. “Thank you for remembering.”
His stiff arms eventually return the gesture, and I hold him even tighter against me. Neither one of us speaks. With the way my chest warms in his proximity, I’m tempted to stick around longer.
He clears his throat. “We should get to sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
My whole face feels like it could catch on fire. “Right. Of course.” I disentangle myself from his grasp and jump out of the tub.
Declan stands and follows after me out of his bathroom. I’m careful not to slip on any more puddles, although it seems like enough time went by for them to evaporate.
“Thanks again. For all this.”
He says nothing, but the satisfied look on his face speaks volumes. I escape his room and crawl into bed with the biggest smile on my face.
All thanks to Declan.
* * *
I drop my empty luggage by the foot of the bed so I can answer my ringing phone.
“Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”
“I’m sorry? Did you just ask if I’mpregnant?” I slam a fist to my chest twice to help me breathe.
“Yes.”
“Why?!” I double-check my period tracker app despite the fact that I haven’t had sex in months.
“You don’t know.” Mom’s voice cracks.
My knees shake, so I take a seat on the edge of the mattress. “What happened?”
“There are…stories coming out about you.”
“Me?”
“And Declan.”
My stomach drops. “Send them to me.”
She makes a noise. “I think it’s better if you don’t see them.”
Shit. Acid crawls up my throat as I ignore my mother and type my name into the search engine with shaky fingers. The results are horrifying. Each headline somehow seems worse than the last. Buzzwords like fake marriage, baby clause, and gold digger. News articles I can handle, but it’s the comment sections that really sting. After the first one claims I don’t deserve children because of the mockery I made out of marriage, I exit the internet application. If that’s the first one, I can’t imagine how awful the rest are.
My social media profiles are no better, with all of them being clogged with people sending me direct messages. Even a few directthreats.
My stomach churns. “None of this is true.”
