Page 193 of Stars in Umbra
The heat of Eden II’s nights, coupled with her swelling belly, made rest elusive.
Rina tossed, shifted, kicked off blankets, only to demand them back seconds later.
Mo bore it all with a mix of patience and humor, rubbing her feet when they swelled, fanning her when the temperature grew unbearable.
Telling her that she was the most radiant thing he’d ever seen, even when she shot back with a groggy, ' Don’t patronize me, soldier.’
Still, beneath the banter, there was tenderness.
He washed her hair when she was too tired to do it herself.
He held her through the nights when frustration brought tears, and reminded her that empires bent to her will; so this, too, she would endure.
Together, they carved out joy in small rituals.
The most poignant task was building the nursery, which Mo installed in his Eden II apartment, occupying the fourth bedroom.
Mo, who had once devoted his life to weapons and dark ops, now spent his afternoons with a hammer and brush in hand.
He painted the walls himself, a subtle shade of dusk blue, the color of the skies above Dunia, and set star-lights across the ceiling that flickered in gentle asterisms.
Rina teased him without mercy.
‘You do realize he won’t mind if the stars don’t line up with the actual Pegasi constellations, right?’
Mo grunted, measuring his work with the precision of a general. ‘He’ll care. He’s mine. He’ll know his sky.’
Through it all, nausea, cravings, restless nights, laughter, and bickering, their love deepened.
Soon, however, she was glowing and healthy, free of morning sickness.
Mo took the opportunity to place every kind of possessive lock on her he could, from jewelry to gifting her a new sleek Sable Wraith flyer.
He even flew her on random shopping sprees to Enia’s glittery city, where she picked out baby clothes, cots, and furniture for their now shared apartment.
At first, she tried to tell him she was only window shopping, but he just shook his head and led her into the most expensive boutique.
‘No window shopping, we don’t do the basic,mi kaya,’ he growled, spoiling her with an extravagant budget.
‘I’m not used to this,’ she countered, with a helpless smile.
‘Then get with it,’ he rumbled. ‘Because I’m so freakin’ addicted to you, so I’ll lace you with jewels and fine things, woman, because I so crave you.’
Surrendering to his possessive extravagance, she selected blankets, soft and hand-woven, and when she was back home, she arranged shelves with picture books of worlds and legends.
Still, they argued over whether the crib should be crafted from Eden II’s obsidian wood or Dunia’s pale oak.
The debate ended with a concession. The baby’s bed was made of polished ebony, while the rocking nursing chair was constructed of the lighter wood.
Through it all, Mo was consumed by love for her, his affection for her reaching its peak during her pregnancy.
He had always known how to protect, but with their child on the way, his possessive need to provide, protect, and defend her had gone galactic.
Rina was his universe, his sun, his moon, and every freakin’ star in between.
He swore he’d give her anything she wanted and even more.
They had both borne wars and secrets, but this was a different kind of campaign. One fought not with blades or treaties, but with patience, devotion, and the promise of a small heartbeat growing stronger each day.
