She Cried Over Her Wedding Gown—Until the Mafia Boss Promised Her Family Would Pay
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Chapter 19 / 27
Chapter 19 - THE BABY KICKS DURING MEDIATION
At thirty-one weeks, our daughter kicked Owen’s hand.
Accidentally.
He was sitting beside me in counseling.
I shifted.
His hand rested on the sofa between us.
My abdomen moved beneath my gown.
He froze.
I did too.
“Was that—”
“Yes.”
He did not touch me.
Good.
“Can I?”
I thought.
Then nodded.
He placed two fingers lightly against my side.
Another kick.
His face collapsed.
“Hi.”
I cried.
Angry at myself.
Dr. Warren said nothing.
She was smart enough not to turn fetal movement into marital symbolism.
Afterward Owen asked:
“Do you think I’ll be at the birth?”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Then:
“I want to be.”
“I know.”
No promise.
He had spent too long building plans around later forgiveness.
May you like
He would not get one from me.
Not yet.
