Chapter 888

Evelyn's morning sickness hit without warning. She curled up in the passenger seat, her slender fingers gripping the seatbelt so tightly her knuckles turned white. The nausea churned in her stomach, beads of sweat forming on her forehead as if she'd just been pulled from water.

Alexander immediately rolled down the window. The early summer breeze carried the fresh scent of grass and leaves into the car. His gaze swept over the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror—without hesitation, he yanked it off and tossed it out.

"Better?" His voice was soft, careful not to startle her.

Evelyn managed a weak nod. She hadn’t expected her sense of smell to become so acute. The car fragrance she could tolerate just last week now felt like a trigger.

"I’ll have the car deep-cleaned tomorrow." Alexander steered with one hand, the other hovering protectively behind her back. "Should we go home to rest?"

She shook her head. "No, it’s just—" Before she could finish, another wave of dry heaving hit.

He immediately turned the car around. Ten minutes later, they pulled up smoothly in front of the villa.

Walking inside, Evelyn’s steps were unsteady. She leaned against the foyer wall, slowly lowering herself onto the shoe bench. The movement made her vision darken, forcing her to close her eyes briefly.

When she opened them again, Alexander was already on one knee before her. His long fingers deftly untied her shoelaces, his touch as gentle as if handling something fragile.

"I can do it—" She instinctively pulled her foot back.

He held her ankle firmly. "Don’t move." His voice was quiet but firm. "Let me take care of you."

Just as her slippers slid on, footsteps approached from the dining room. Grace Anderson and Margaret Hamilton walked in, freezing at the sight of Alexander still kneeling.

The air turned thick with tension.

Margaret recovered first, grabbing Grace’s arm. "Oh! The soup on the stove!" They retreated hastily into the kitchen.

Evelyn’s ears burned. She tried to stand, but Alexander steadied her. He leaned close, his warm breath brushing her earlobe. "Easy."

"You did that on purpose?" She glared at him.

He chuckled. "I read that pregnant women shouldn’t bend over." A pause. "And I’ve wanted to do this for a long time."

Her heart skipped. She looked away. "Smooth talker."

"Truth." His expression turned serious. "Evelyn, I want to be part of this child’s every moment. From your morning sickness to the first kick, to every night after they’re born." He took her hand. "Give me this chance. Please."

She froze. Memories surfaced—her childhood neighbor, a single mother working three jobs until she collapsed. The child always waiting alone at the school gate, watching classmates leave with both parents.

"Are you sure?" Her voice trembled. "This isn’t something to take lightly."

His gaze burned with certainty. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

From the kitchen came the clatter of utensils and hushed conversation. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting warm patches on the hardwood.

Evelyn looked down at their joined hands and gave a small nod.