Sienna

After what felt like an eternity of administrative drudgery, the day had mercifully come to an end and I was finally peeling off my scrubs in the locker room, practically drooling at the thought of collapsing into bed and pretending the world didn't exist. Mentally, I was done. Physically, I felt like a wrung-out dish rag. Spiritually? I was already napping.

Next to me, Ayesha was pretending to fiddle with her locker, but I could feel her burning gaze like laser beams on the side of my head. Her nosiness was so obvious it might as well have come with a flashing neon sign.

"So," she began casually with a smile I already didn't like, "are you finally going to tell me what the deal is between you and McHotty, or do I need to keep staring at your head until the tea explodes out of it?"

I tossed my blouse on. "McHotty? Really?"

She shrugged. "Don't look at me, that's what all the nurses are calling him."

I rolled my eyes. "There's nothing going on."

She slammed her locker shut with a dramatic flourish. "Mmm-hmm, sure. Nothing."

"It's the truth, Ayesha," I insisted. "We barely even know each other."

"Riiight," she said, crossing her arms. "So you both barely know each other and yet you got in an on-call room together. Alone?"

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. "How do you know about that?"

She rolled her eyes at me like I was being silly. "Gossip here moves faster than a crash cart. By the time you blink, everyone from the janitor to the chief of surgery knows what you had for lunch. Nurses talk, doctors talk, hell, even the walls have ears in this place. Everyone knows everything."

I groaned inwardly. Of course, this would happen. I had been here for all of one day, and already I was the lead in the hospital's latest gossip saga.

"It's nothing," I repeated, trying to inject some finality into my voice. "Xavier's just someone I used to know, that's all."

Ayesha raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yeah. And I'm the queen of England."

I shut my locker and grabbed my bag, needing to get out of here before this conversation went any deeper. "I'm serious. I'm totally innocent in this, and besides... I have someone."

She leaned against the locker, processing this new piece of information. "Right. That totally explains why you've been blushing like a tomato on steroids since I mentioned McHotty. Definitely screams platonic."

"I wasn't blushing!" I snapped, fully aware of the irony as my cheeks betrayed me once again. Fantastic. At this rate, I could cook an egg on my face.

Ayesha chuckled, clearly enjoying this far too much. "I'm sure this...someone," she air quoted, "would be thrilled to hear about your little on-call room rendezvous with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Neurosurgery."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "You're impossible."

"I'm a realist," she corrected, grinning like a cat that just found the cream. "And as a realist, I'm telling you that you're knee-deep in denial and it looks real comfy."

I shot her another glare, but before I could launch into a defensive tirade, my phone buzzed in my bag. I fumbled for it, grateful for the interruption, and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Ryder. He was here.

Perfect timing.

"My rides here," I announced, slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder. "Gotta go."

Ayesha gave me a look that was half-skeptical and half-amused. "Oh, running away? Convenient."

"I prefer 'exit strategy.'" I called over my shoulder, already halfway to the door.

"Just so you know, this conversation isn't over!" She yelled. "You may have dodged me now, but I will get the tea later!"

"Good luck with that!"

Her chuckles echoed behind me as I walked quickly down the hall, heading to the elevator. As I stepped into the open transport, I silently thanked the universe that it was empty. No forced small talk, no awkwardness—just peace. I hit the button for the ground floor and leaned against the cool metal wall. The doors began to inch closer together, almost sealed shut, and for the first time in hours, I allowed myself a small breath of relief. Finally, a moment alone.

But the universe, as usual, had some twisted sense of humor.

A hand suddenly shot through the closing gap and the doors jolted open again, revealing the last person I wanted to see right now.

Xavier.

He stepped inside, his eyes locking onto mine. For a split second, I thought about hitting the emergency button and making a run for it, but my feet stayed glued to the floor.

Why? Just why?

Of all people, of all moments—it had to be him.

"Hey," he said, casually, like the tension between us wasn't thick enough to suffocate.

"Hey," I managed, my voice stiff and unwilling.

The doors closed behind him, trapping us in the small, too-quiet space. I stared at the reflective silver of the doors, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world, but I could feel his eyes on me, heavy, waiting.

The elevator hummed as it descended, the numbers ticking by too slowly. I focused on the buttons, on anything but him. Maybe if I stayed perfectly still and silent, he'd get the hint and he'd do the same. Maybe we could just ignore this awkward tension and pretend nothing had—

"You seem to be avoiding me,"

Who was I kidding?

I closed my eyes for a second, gripping the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles ached. Of course, he wouldn't let this go. I turned slightly, meeting his gaze. "I'm not avoiding you."

One brow arched up in skepticism, but he didn't argue. He didn't need to; the disbelief in his eyes said it all. He stood there, tattooed arms crossed casually over his chest, his stance relaxed, but there was something intense in his gaze—like he was trying to peel back my layers and figure out what was going on inside my head. "You know, Sienna... you don't have to pretend with me."

I froze at that. "Pretend?"

He tilted his head, still watching me. "You're tense. I can feel it from over here."

"I'm fine," I lied, hoping he'd drop it, hoping the floors would move faster. "Just tired."

He didn't believe me. I could see it in the way his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was debating whether or not to call me out on the lie. He exhaled. "Is this how it's going to be between us? Are we just going to act like strangers? Pretend like we don't know each other?"

"I—"

"What is it, Sienna?" He cut me, stepping closer. "You've been avoiding me since the second you saw me." His tone wasn't angry, just quiet, steady, and maddeningly calm. "Did I do something wrong? Have I hurt you in any way?"

I shook my head, heat flushing my cheeks. "No. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I thought we were friends."

"We are," I admitted. "I just... I don't know what to say to you..."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You can't be serious."

"I am," I defended. "Truly."

"Well then how about starting with 'How've you been'?" he proposed. "That's what friends do when they haven't seen each other in a while, right? They catch up."

I bit my lip. He had that way of speaking—so calm, so direct—it made it hard to dodge. "Okay.... How have you been?"

He looked at me for a long moment before responding. "Honestly, I don't know," he sighed, raking his fingers through his freshly cut hair. "It's been... a lot. Moving to New York, adjusting to this place... it's different. The city's non-stop. I haven't had a chance to catch my breath."

I nodded, trying to keep the conversation casual. "Yeah, I get that. It can be... overwhelming."

He hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall. "What about you? How've you been?"

"Living my best life, I guess." I shrugged, trying to make it sound easy, like I had it all together. "I finally got my license back, so I'm ready to start working full-time again."

The corners of his mouth curved into a small smile. "That's great, Sienna. I'm truly happy for you."

"Thanks," I said, my voice a little softer now. "It feels like things are falling back into place... slowly, but it's happening. By the way, how's your mum doing?"

"She's fine," he replied, his voice warm but with that familiar edge of exasperation. " Still in Hobart, still giving me hell about settling down. She keeps trying to fix me up with these blind dates that I have no use for."

I chuckled. "You should just give her what she wants. Settle down, make her happy."

He sighed, a touch of frustration in his tone. "It's not that easy."

I shrugged. "Seems pretty easy to me; I mean, you do have the looks."

"If looks were all that mattered, Sienna; I'd have the woman I wanted."

The way he looked at me when he said those words... My skin prickled. "How's your snake?" I blurted, desperate to shift the mood and steer us away from the dangerous ground we were treading. "Ilse, right?"

The tension cracked, and he smiled, but it was softer this time, like he knew exactly what I was doing. "You remember her."

I chuckled nervously. "Couldn't forget even if I wanted to. She traumatized me."

His smile widened. "It would interest you to know that she actually hatched eight eggs."

"Eight?" My eyes widened. "That's... a lot of snakes. Did you keep them?"

He shook his head. "As much as I love Ilse, even I have limits. I'm not about to be the guy with a house full of snakes."

"I don't know, Xavier, I could totally see you with a snake collection."

He laughed, the sound low and rich, and it vibrated through me. "Well, I kept one. His name is Ghost."

"Ghost?" I couldn't help it, a laugh slipped out despite myself. "That's a weird one."

Xavier scratched the back of his head. "I know but it seemed fitting considering he disappears and reappears when you least expect it. He also has the finest skin color and he's cuddly too. You should come over sometime, to check him out."

The suggestion hit me harder than it should have, and suddenly the air felt too thick again.

"I have no friends here." He added quickly, a little too earnestly. "The last time I invited my neighbor over, he freaked out and nearly pissed himself at the sight of Ilse."

"Can't say I blame him."

He chuckled. "What I'm saying is; it would be nice to have some familiar company around."

The elevator dinged in that moment, and the doors slid open on the ground floor.

Thankful for the obstruction, I stepped out quickly, eager to escape whatever it was between us. "Thanks for the offer," I murmured. "I'll think about it."

The doors started to close again. He smiled. "Good night, Sienna."

***

The familiar scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the air as I stepped out of the elevator and into the foyer. The lights were dimmed, and the quiet stillness settled over me. Tristan wasn't back yet. As I walked in, I noticed Guiseppe gathering his belongings. He glanced up and smiled warmly when he saw me. "La nostra bella moglie," he greeted, his voice filled with affection. "You are back. I did not think I would see you tonight."

"Hello, Guiseppe," I greeted, trying to muster a smile. "It's late; you should have left already."

He waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, is no problem. I stay to make sure everything is perfect. I made a very nice broth. It is in the fridge for you and Signor Tristan. Very healthy. Very tasty. Good for the cold nights, yes?"

"Thank you, Guiseppe. That's very thoughtful."

He gave me a searching look. "You look tired, Signora. You are okay?"

I nodded, the lie heavy on my tongue. "Just a long day. I'll be fine."

His brow furrowed, clearly not convinced, but he didn't push. "If you need something, you tell me, yes?"

"Yes, of course." I managed a small smile. "Thank you, Guiseppe. I really appreciate it."

He nodded, his eyes lingering on me as if he wanted to say more, but he merely sighed. "Okay, I go now. Rest well, Signora."

"Goodnight, Guiseppe."

With a little wave, he gathered his things and left. As the elevator doors closed behind him, the silence in the apartment seemed to grow thicker. I stood there for a moment, the emptiness around me almost suffocating. A part of me wished I could have asked him to stay just a little longer, for a little more company, but I knew that wasn't fair.

Taking a deep breath, I headed to the kitchen and retrieved the container of broth from the fridge. Guiseppe was right; the warmth and rich aroma were soothing, but I couldn't muster the energy to eat right now.

I put the broth back in the fridge and headed upstairs. What I needed right now was a hot shower, something to wash away the stress and confusion of the day.

In the bathroom, I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the spray. The hot water felt like a blessing as it cascaded over my tired body, loosening the tightness in my muscles.

As I lathered soap over my skin, a sharp, sudden pain flared in my lower abdomen, making me wince. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, my heart clenching with worry.
"Hey, little ones," I whispered softly, my fingers tracing gentle circles over my abdomen. "You two okay in there, be good for mummy, okay?"

I held my breath, my hand still on my stomach. The discomfort slowly faded, leaving a dull ache in its place. I let out a shaky breath of relief and leaned against the cool tiles, closing my eyes.

Motherhood. The reality of it felt overwhelming. It was staggering, like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown. Could I do this? Could I really be the mother these two little lives deserved? I had no idea what it would be like, what kind of mother I would become. But no matter the fear, no matter the uncertainty, I knew I would do whatever it took to protect them, to make sure they were safe and happy. There was so much I didn't know, so much I had to learn, but I would figure it out. We had to; Tristan and I.

Whenever I finally decided to tell him.

God, how long was I planning to drag this out?

Maybe tonight. Maybe I would tell him tonight.

I continued my shower, letting the water wash away the last remnants of fear and doubt. Eventually, I stepped out and dried off, and slipped into a loose, comfortable nightgown. I settled in bed right after and picked up the novel on my nightstand. I needed a distraction, something to keep me grounded while I waited for Tristan to come home.

But the words on the page blurred together as I read, making it hard to focus. My mind kept drifting, clouded by exhaustion. I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep until suddenly, a loud crash, like the sound of shattering glass, jolted me awake.

I shot up in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. My eyes darted around the dark room, trying to find the source of the noise, but everything was still, eerily quiet.

It took me a moment to realize I was alone, and the crash had only been a phantom sound from my nightmare. I pressed a hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow. It was just a dream. Only a dream. But I couldn't remember what the dream had been, just that it was dark, suffocating, and filled with a sense of dread that still clawed at the edges of my mind.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. The bright light of the screen cut through the darkness, illuminating Stefan's name. I glanced at the time, confusion knitting my brows. 1:47 AM.

Why was he calling so late?

The call dropped before I could answer, and as I unlocked the screen, I saw it—a string of missed calls. Nine, ten... ten missed calls from Stefan.

My stomach dropped. What was happening?

I quickly dialed him back, my hands trembling. The phone barely rang once before he answered.

"Sienna?"

His voice was sharp and almost fierce. "Stefan, what's going on?" I asked, my own voice coming out breathless and thin. "Why are you calling so many times? Is everything okay?"

"Where are you right now?" he demanded, ignoring my question.

My pulse spiked. "I—I'm at home," I stammered, trying to keep the apprehensiveness out of my voice. "Why? What's happening?"

"Listen to me, you need to leave the house right now."

His words hit me like ice water, chilling me to the core. I sat up straighter, gripping the phone tightly. "What? What do you mean?"

"Just grab anything you can and go," he urged. "Don't think, don't argue. Just leave."

Panic crept into my chest like wildfire. What—what was going on? I glanced around the dark, empty room, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You're scaring me, Stefan. What the hell is happening?"

"Just do as I say. Do it now."

My mind was spinning, trying to grasp what was happening, but none of it made sense. "I can't just leave, Tristan isn't home, I don't—"

"Dammit, that's why you need to go!" he cut me off, his voice rising. "He knows, Sienna."

His words froze the blood in my veins.

"Tristan knows."