Chapter 28 - Aurélie #2
He smiled, softer this time. “I’d show up for you a thousand times, mon c?ur. In every version of this life.” He tucked my hair behind my ears. “You never have to go through anything alone again.”
I stepped out of his arms, the absence of his touch jarring.
My feet shuffled forward through the bathroom, and I turned slowly to take in the full mess.
The bathroom was soft and warm, muted creams, pale rose tiles, hardwood floors, the countertop a cool marble veined with gray.
And it was marred by the bloody towels heaped by the shower, the trash bin overflowing with toilet paper, wrappers, tampons, and pads, a used diaper on top.
Seeing the evidence of what was happening—on the shower tile, the hardwoods, the counter—felt like standing in the aftermath of a storm I hadn’t survived. The proof of it was everywhere. I’d lost something, and the universe had the audacity to leave it behind for me to clean up.
A sigh deflated out of me. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I just… I couldn’t stay awake through the pain. I needed to sleep it off.”
His answer came without hesitation. “I’d rather see it and be here than not know at all.”
Without being asked, Callum joined me by my side and grabbed one of the cleaner hand towels, running it under the faucet.
He moved with practiced ease—shoulders tense, brow furrowed, jaw tight—but he didn’t flinch at the sight of the blood.
He just wiped slowly, gently, cleaning the worst of it from the vanity’s edge.
Like it didn’t scare him and none of this made him love me less.
A sharp, brutal cramp tore through my pelvis, so sudden and blinding that I yelped and gripped the edge of the sink. My knees nearly buckled.
Callum dropped the towel on the counter, then he turned to face me. “What do you need?”
I breathed through it. “Nothing—merde. Just a cramp.”
Before I could brace myself again, he was behind me, pressing in close. His hands landed at my hips first, grounding me, then one slid around my front and flattened firmly against my lower belly. The pressure was perfect, just enough to counteract the agony.
I sagged back into his chest with a ragged sigh, letting the heat of his body soothe mine. His scent—bergamot, clean linen, and something uniquely him—wrapped around me, and I pressed one trembling hand over his where it rested on my abdomen.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, lips brushing my tangled hair. “Just breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”
The mirror caught our reflection. His tall frame wrapped around mine, his cheek pressed to my hair, his hand steady over the ache in my body.
He looked wrecked and resolute all at once.
I’d never seen anything more devastatingly beautiful than the man I loved holding me like I was something sacred instead of broken. My eyes burned, and tears slipped free.
“?a fait mal.” It was a jagged whimper that escaped my throat. It hurts.
“Je sais, mon amour,” he said softly. “Tu es si fort. Tu n’es pas seule. Respire pour moi. Doucement… encore une fois. Je suis là.”
I know, my love. You’re so strong. You’re not alone. Breathe for me. Slowly… one more time. I’m right here.
My body still trembled, my abdomen still throbbed, but a different kind of ache bloomed in my chest. Relief. Gratitude. The sweet, unbearable weight of being understood. He didn’t make me reach for the English. He met me in my language. And that… that undid me.
My hand tightened over his, anchoring myself in him until the cramp passed. I took a long, shuddering breath. He held me through it, silent but unwavering.
After a beat, he kissed the side of my head. “Let’s shower,” he murmured. “We can clean this up later. You need to rest.”
I hesitated. “Okay,” I whispered. My voice was small, raw. “But… can you turn around first?”
He leaned back just enough to look down at me. “Why?”
“Because I’m about to strip out of a fucking diaper, Callum.”
He grinned, hands slipping under my shirt to tug on the hem of it. “Baby, I’ve been snuggling you in this for hours.”
I scowled. “Why are you like this?”
“Because I love you. Even in a diaper. Especially in a diaper.”
“Callum.”
“What? I have a kink for resilience.”
“You have a kink for a lot of things.”
“Maybe it’s just a kink for you.”
I couldn’t contain the smile that threatened to split my face in half, so I used his weakness to my advantage. “Have some mercy on me, baby. Please.”
His eyes softened, and, to his credit, he let me go and turned without a word, facing the bathroom door and crossing his arms like a gentleman.
I shuffled away from him, cheeks burning as I peeled the stupid thing off, tossing it toward the trash with a wince.
My body ached, my pride was in pieces, and I’d just thrown up into a toilet in front of the man I loved.
I exhaled loudly when I looked at the blood smeared at the top of my thighs, but I stepped in the shower and turned the water on as hot as I could handle.
Callum stepped in behind me and lifted my hair off my shoulders, guiding me under the spray.
The warmth sank into my bones, and my eyes drifted closed.
“Thank you for letting me stay and be part of this,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him over the spray of the water. “And on the upside, now I know you really trust me.”
I didn’t say anything, just let him lather my hair in shampoo. He rinsed it, then put conditioner in. As his fingers raked through the tangles, I spoke.
“I didn’t know for sure,” I admitted. It wasn’t detached, but it wasn’t emotional, either. It just… was.
He paused for just a moment before continuing to finger-comb my long strands.
“I suspected. Going into England last week,” I continued. “I just—I couldn’t handle knowing. Not when everything was already so fucked up. I couldn’t add something else on top of it all. I wasn’t ready.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my voice trembling.
“The longer I cramped without bleeding, the more I let myself believe it was just a period and a bad flare. But then I was packing up my flat, and I found a pregnancy test, so I took it. But I didn’t know, Callum.
Not really. Not for sure. And I’m sorry. ”
He kissed the back of my shoulder, arms still around me. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
“But I should’ve told you sooner.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe me an apology for something you couldn’t control. You were scared and hurting. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me,” he said softly. “Help me understand.”
I turned and looked at him so he could see my sincerity for this next part. His hands settled on my hips. “I knew the signs because… because this wasn’t the first time.”
Silence. His eyes widened for just a breath, then softened, the muscle in his jaw ticking once. He didn’t move away. He just searched my face like he was memorizing it. His grip didn’t loosen, but his expression shifted from confusion to heartbreak.
I forced myself to keep going, swallowing down my nerves. “There were two others. Before.”
“Before?” His voice was quiet but steady, threaded with grief.
I tried to gauge his reaction, but he was guarded, unreadable in that way he always got when he was trying not to scare me with how much he felt. He wasn’t angry. He was listening, reserving judgment, and that’s what mattered.
“Before I ever met you. One when I was eighteen. Another last summer.”
He closed his eyes, breath catching, his brow furrowing like the weight of it hit him all at once. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “The prescription bottles. Is that why?”
Slowly, I nodded.
He didn’t say another word. Just gathered me into his arms. The hot water poured over both of us, steam curling around our bodies as he pressed me to his chest. I finally let myself just breathe.
He made a safety net of his presence, and somehow it made all of my pain bearable—not a burden. My soul exhaled. I was truly home.
“Mon c?ur…” he murmured, the name trembling with reverence.
“I was careful,” I rushed to explain. “I’ve always been careful. But things happen. Life happens. And I never told anyone. Not even my siblings. I kept it to myself, because what was the point? I didn’t even get to grieve. I just had to keep going. I always have to keep going.”
His voice broke in return, rough and full of conviction.
“Not with me. You don’t have to just keep going anymore.
” He cupped my face, thumbs stroking away the tears that mixed with the shower water.
“You feel what you need to feel. We’ll handle it together.
There is nothing in this world that could ever be too much for me. Not when it’s you.”
We stood in silence for a while, forehead to forehead, water dripping down our skin.
When my tears finally quieted, he reached for the washcloth.
His movements were slow and steadfast. He washed me gently, his touch a vow in every stroke, wiping the blood from my thighs, my knees, the curve of my hip.
I didn’t feel ashamed. I felt loved. Seen.
When he finished, I looked down at the drain, where the water spiraled pink from the constant, slow trickle of blood between my legs. My lower lip wobbled. “I need to shave my legs,” I croaked. “But I hurt. And I don’t want to be prickly.”
He huffed a soft laugh against my shoulder. “I’ve got you, baby.”
And he did. He knelt, steady hands guiding the razor along my skin with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
Every pass was an act of devotion, his thumb smoothing over the back of my knee, his breath warm against my thigh.
It was an intimacy I never thought I deserved, but he showed me every single day that there was no running from the inevitable.
Because that’s what we were—completely and utterly inevitable.
When he finished, he turned off the water, wrapped me in a towel, helped me into another godforsaken diaper despite my protests, and carried me back to bed.
The sheets were smooth against my skin, the duvet thick and warm.
He left only long enough to bring me a glass of water and a sleeve of saltines, placing them within reach like he was building a small altar of care beside me.
Then he slid in next to me, pulling the blanket over us both. His arm came around my waist, and I tucked my face into the curve of his throat, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
For the first time in days, my body began to unclench. The ache in my chest dulled. My eyes fluttered shut.
And as sleep finally dragged me under, I realized… he didn’t just show up. He stayed.