Zaria never imagined how quickly a life could change in just one day.
The media storm from her statement was still burning across blogs and social media, but for the first time, she didn't feel like prey. She was holding her head higher. Walking through the mansion with more certainty. Even Madam Yejide had started calling her Madam Zaria with a little more warmth in her voice.
But all that calm shattered by mid-afternoon.
It started with a strange tightening in her lower belly.
She'd been walking through the garden, breathing in the scent of frangipani and hibiscus, when it struck—sharp and sudden. She doubled over with a cry, her hand flying to her stomach.
Not just a cramp.
Something deeper.
Something wrong.
"Madam! Are you alright?" the security guard rushed forward.
Zaria's skin had gone cold. Her heart pounded. The pain ebbed, then returned sharper, spreading through her back and down her legs.
"I need— I need help," she gasped. "Call Darius."
---
The hospital was cold and white, too white. Darius arrived barely ten minutes after the ambulance. Still in his white shirt, sleeves rolled up, no tie, no calm.
He found her in a private room, hooked up to machines, her eyes fluttering weakly.
"Zaria," he breathed, rushing to her side.
She turned her head slowly. "It hurts…"
The doctor stepped in. A calm-faced woman in her early fifties with a clipboard pressed tightly to her chest.
"She's having early contractions. We're managing it, but it's stress-related."
Darius stared. "She's not due for months."
"Yes. Which is why this is serious."
The words rang in his ears like a siren.
The doctor continued, her voice kind but firm. "The baby is fine for now. But if her stress levels don't go down, we could be looking at preterm labor. We're going to monitor closely, but I suggest keeping her environment completely calm. No shocks. No pressure. No media."
Darius nodded tightly.
When they were alone, he pulled a chair closer and sat beside Zaria, his large hand carefully wrapping around hers.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She gave a weak laugh. "You keep saying that."
"I mean it this time."
"Which time didn't you mean it?" she teased softly, then winced as another wave of pain washed through her.
Darius cursed under his breath and held her hand tighter.
"I can't lose this baby," she whispered.
"You won't."
"Darius…"
"Yes?"
"Are you going to disappear again after this?"
He looked at her, startled. "Disappear?"
"You've been halfway gone since I moved in. You say you'll protect me, but I hardly see you. You care—but from a distance."
He didn't speak for a long moment.
Then, slowly, "I've been afraid."
Zaria blinked at him.
"I've built empires. Faced down oil cartels. Won lawsuits. But nothing scares me like this baby. Like you. Because this—" he motioned around them, to the hospital, to the machines— "this isn't a boardroom I can control."
"You think I'm trying to control you?"
"No," he said. "I think you're the first real thing in my life I didn't plan for. And I don't know how to handle that."
Her eyes shimmered with emotion. "You don't have to handle me, Darius. You just have to show up."
He nodded.
And for the first time, it wasn't a businessman sitting beside her.
It was just a man.
A scared man.
Trying to figure out how to be something more.
---
Zaria stayed overnight for monitoring. Darius refused to leave her side. He ignored work calls. He ate from the hospital cafeteria. He sat and watched her breathe as she slept, hand still wrapped around hers.
At dawn, when the doctor returned with good news—that the contractions had stopped and both mother and baby were stable—Darius exhaled like he hadn't breathed in years.
Zaria opened her eyes just then.
"Still here?" she murmured.
He smiled.
"Not going anywhere."
---
Back at the mansion, the media noise had begun to settle.
But inside both Zaria and Darius, something new had taken root.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something just as rare.
A beginning.