CHAPTER 34
NINA MARCHESI
The constant back-and-forth trips to Athens over the past few weeks make it feel much closer than it did back when I lived there and could barely afford to come home.
The problem was never the distance—it was the fact that every cent I earned went straight into my studies.
Round-trip tickets weren’t a luxury I could afford.
The calm atmosphere of the Greek capital, empty at this time of year, is almost unrecognisable to anyone used to seeing it only at the height of summer, when the city is packed with tourists.
I keep walking toward the ferry station, silently thanking God for managing to get back to the island early today.
This morning’s mission was to go through the visa process at the UAE General Consulate. I can’t say it was quick, but I suppose it could have been much worse than being on my way home by eleven in the morning.
I tilt my neck from side to side, trying to ease the persistent tension in my shoulders that’s been there since I started walking. The thick coat I’m wearing feels excessive, but the temperature change between Khione and Athens always leaves me uncomfortable.
I ignore the cold sweat on my skin, but I can’t do the same with the sudden wave of nausea and dizziness that hits me.
It’s vertigo and nausea at the same time.
My heart starts racing in an instant, and breathing becomes difficult.
I reach out for the wall, gripping it at the exact moment my legs give out, and I suck in air, trying to catch my breath.
It doesn’t work.
The sensations swell, growing exponentially until I can’t remain standing. My body feels too heavy, my head feels too heavy, and my neck feels like it’s been erased from my body with a superpowered eraser.
I realise what’s about to happen before it actually does. Everything around me becomes blurred and distant, and I feel my mind shutting down. My vision clouds, my legs fold beneath me—and then everything goes black.
***
I open my eyes, only to close them again. I press my hands against the surface beneath them and realise the rest of my body is there too.
I’m on the ground.
I open my eyes again.
Several unfamiliar faces surround me, and I frown, unable to think clearly or understand why. Suddenly, everything feels like too much—too much noise, too much light, too many people.
“Are you okay?” a male voice asks, and I turn my head toward it. A middle-aged man is crouched beside me. Was he always here? What am I doing on the floor?
I try to get up, but I can’t—I don’t have enough energy to move my own body. Somewhere in my consciousness, a part of me knows I should try harder, focus, check for pain or possible injuries, but the fog in my head won’t let me do any of that.
“You fainted,” the same man says, and this time I understand his words more clearly. “We’ve already called an ambulance. It’s on the way.”
I open my mouth to say it’s not necessary, but an irrational fear chills my skin, and I decide no one ever died from trusting their instincts. I nod, letting him know I understand.
I stay still, waiting for the ambulance, and little by little I feel my senses returning to normal.
When it arrives, I get into it on my own two feet, feeling much better, though the strange sense of panic still beats fast in my chest. Sitting in the emergency vehicle, I take a deep breath, telling myself it’s nothing serious.
The doctor will say I’m fine—what else could he say?
***
“You’re pregnant.”
The man in the white coat says it, and I blink, convinced I’m still under the effects of fainting.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, certain I misunderstood.
“Congratulations, Mom,” he says with a smile, lowering the papers in his hands and leaning closer across the desk. “The pregnancy is still early. Six weeks.”
A nervous laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it.
That’s not possible. I can’t be pregnant.
“Doctor, I think there’s been a mistake,” I say, my voice trembling. The kind-looking man lowers his eyes to the papers again.
“Is your name Nina Marchesi?”
“Yes?”
“Then there’s no mistake, Nina. You’ve been pregnant for six weeks.”
This time, when the world spins, the ground stays where it is.
The rest of the conversation with the doctor is a blur, and when I come back to myself, I’m already on the ferry, crossing back to Khione without the faintest idea of how I got here.
Panic was a cold, rushing tide inside me.
Pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
No matter how many times I repeat the information in my head, it still feels unreal.
I’m not stupid. I knew there was a chance. A ridiculously small one, sure—but still a chance.
We only had sex once without a condom. It was a lapse in judgment. One of those it was impossible to stop moments I always judged when it happened to other people.
Because I’d only been on birth control for a short time, Nero and I decided that taking the morning-after pill as a precaution was the best option. But of course, out of everyone who could end up as part of a bizarre statistic, I had to be the chosen one.
Pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
I bury my face in my hands, wishing I could disappear.
The consequences of this reality overturn every certainty and plan I had, leaving nothing in its place. Everything is going to change. Everything already has.
I feel like my head is underwater—blind and deaf to the rush—while at the same time the world twists into a cacophony of sounds, smells, and colours around me, none of which I can identify.
I stand up. Walk to the side door of the ferry and step outside. The cold wind lashes my face and floods my lungs as I gulp it down, swallowing along with it a shred of clarity.
I need to tell Nero.
All my certainties have abandoned me except this one.
I need to tell him.
Hiding it or waiting simply aren’t options—even though I can’t yet grasp all the different ways my life just changed. It’s not the end of the world. I’m not alone; I don’t doubt that for a second. No matter what Nero thinks, my mother would never abandon me.
And if I know Rosa Marchesi at all, she’ll like having a grandchild far more than she’d like buying our house and the shop.
Is it madness? Yes. Completely.
Do I feel ready to be a mother? God, no. Definitely not.
Children were part of my very long-term plans—the kind of plans so distant they felt more like dreams—and in the blink of an eye, the moment arrived. There’s a baby inside me, growing, six weeks along. My hands go to my stomach instinctively.
It’s terrifying, but it’s not tragic, I tell myself.
My gaze drifts over the sea. It’s like diving into Nero’s eyes. I try to keep him out of my thoughts and desires, but I fail almost immediately.
He promised he wasn’t going anywhere.
I cling to that certainty with everything I have while my mind rebels, projecting a hundred different scenarios and wishes—and in every single one of them, Nero is just as central as I am.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out only to feel like crying again, because it’s Nero on the line.
I let it go to voicemail. He calls again, and I don’t answer either, but the third time I know that if I don’t pick up, he’ll worry.
So I fill my lungs with air, trying to occupy the empty space where courage should be, and accept the call.
“Love?” he says, already sounding concerned. His voice saying that single word sends small, soothing sparks through my body, and even knowing it’s a mistake to cling to that feeling, I do.
“Hi. Sorry—I lost my phone in my bag earlier.”
“Are you okay? Did you sort out the visa?” His concern tightens my chest. The visa. I almost laugh in despair. The completely useless visa now.
“I did. I’m on my way home.”
“Good. That’s great. Dinner with me?” he asks, and I glance at my watch, completely detached from the time of day. It’s already past five in the afternoon. “I’m stuck at the office, but I can order from that restaurant you like.”
“Okay,” I agree, deciding to rip the bandage off all at once. “We need to talk, Nero.”
The line goes quiet while he processes my words.
“Nothing good is ever introduced after those words, Little Fae,” he says with certainty.
It hurts, because it touches a fear I hadn’t yet allowed myself to voice.
What if Nero really thinks this is bad? We didn’t plan this—but we knew it was a risk, and we gave in to desire anyway.
I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth.
When I don’t speak, Nero talks again. “What’s going on? ”
“I’d rather have this conversation in person, Nero.”
“Love—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I’m coming. In two hours at most, I’ll be there.”
“Two hours is too long. I’ll come get you at the station.”
“You just said you’re stuck—you don’t have to. I’ll take a taxi. And I’d rather have this conversation somewhere private.”
“You’re worrying the hell out of me, Nina.”
“I’m coming.”
It’s all I can say, unable to reassure him, because I have no idea what to expect beyond the unavoidable revelation of the truth.