Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Corinne woke to find Selik’s side of the bed empty and the sound of Mikoz giggling somewhere in the house.
She stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles well-used and the growing weight of her belly making simple movements more awkward than they used to be. Six months pregnant now, and the baby was making their presence known with increasingly energetic kicks.
The smell of fresh bread drifted through the open window along with salt air and the distant cry of seabirds. Morning light painted patterns across the wooden floor, and she could hear Anya’s voice mingling with Selik’s deeper rumble.
Home, she thought, the word still feeling new and precious in her mind.
She pulled on one of Selik’s shirts—easier than trying to button her own these days—and padded barefoot into the main room.
The scene that greeted her made her pause in the doorway.
Selik stood at the stove, his muscular frame somehow managing not to look ridiculous wearing the apron Anya had bought him as a joke.
Mikoz sat in the high chair Jarrek’s family had gifted them, gleefully smashing what looked like mashed fruit against the tray.
And Anya perched on the counter, reading aloud from one of the datapads they’d acquired, her voice animated as she described some historical battle.
“—and then the Velaskan forces tried to outflank them, but Commander Revik anticipated the move and—oh, morning!” She spotted Corinne and grinned. “Selik made breakfast. Well, attempted breakfast. The first batch of eggs was questionable.”
“The heat setting was unclear,” he said without turning from the stove.
“The heat setting was labeled.”
“In a language I do not read fluently.”
“You speak fourteen languages!”
“Speaking and reading are different skills.”
She laughed, crossing to press a kiss to Selik’s shoulder before checking on Mikoz. The toddler immediately offered her a fistful of smashed fruit.
“Thank you, sweet boy. But you should probably eat that yourself.”
“Ma!” He shoved the fruit toward his mouth, missing slightly and getting it on his cheek instead.
“Close enough.” She wiped his face with a cloth, earning a squeal of protest. “How long have you all been up?”
“Since dawn,” Anya said. “Mikoz decided five in the morning was party time.”
“And you did not wake me?”
“Selik said you needed rest.” Anya hopped down from the counter and started setting the table. “Plus you’ve been working yourself to death with all the nesting stuff.”
“I’m not nesting. I’m organizing.”
“You reorganized the storage closet three times yesterday.”
“It wasn’t properly optimized.”
“You color-coded the dishes.”
“That was practical. Now we can find things faster.”
Selik turned from the stove, carrying a plate of eggs that actually looked edible. “You also rearranged the furniture in our bedroom twice this week.”
“The energy flow was off.”
“Energy flow.” He set the plate down, his expression somewhere between amused and concerned. “Is that a human pregnancy concept?”
“It’s a nesting concept. Which I’m definitely not doing.” She sat down, immediately reaching for the bread. “This smells amazing.”
“Jarrek’s mother brought it by this morning. She also left instructions for several meals she thinks will be good for the baby.” He settled into the chair beside her, close enough that his tail could curl around her ankle. “Along with her opinion on appropriate sleeping arrangements for infants.”
“Did she now?”
“She was very thorough. Apparently, babies should not sleep with their parents due to safety concerns, but also should not sleep too far away due to bonding concerns, and there is a precise optimal distance that varies by family but averages approximately four point two meters.”
Anya snorted. “She measured your bedroom, didn’t she?”
“With a tape measure. Yes.”
She smiled affectionately. Their neighbors had embraced them completely, offering advice and support and the kind of casual interference that came with genuine caring.
“She means well.”
“She does. And her recommendations are actually quite sound based on my research.” Selik paused. “I may have also measured the bedroom.”
“Of course you did.”
They ate together, the morning light growing brighter and the sounds of the neighborhood waking up filtering through the windows.
Mikoz made a valiant effort to feed himself, succeeding about half the time.
Anya told them about the book she was reading, something about how planet side battle tactics could be used in space battles.
It was perfect and ordinary and exactly what she had always wanted.
But she could see the tension in Selik’s shoulders.
The way his eyes would drift toward the windows, scanning.
The slight tightness around his mouth that meant he was thinking about things he didn’t want to share.
She’d noticed it more over the past few weeks.
Little moments where he seemed to be bracing for disaster.
After breakfast, Anya took Mikoz outside to play in the small garden they’d planted. She started cleaning up, but Selik gently took the dishes from her hands.
“I will handle this. You should rest.”
“I’m pregnant, not fragile.”
“I am aware. But you were up late last night reorganizing the baby’s room.”
“The shelves were uneven.”
“They were perfectly level. I checked with a measuring device.”
“Visually uneven then.” She leaned against the counter, watching him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Selik.”
He was quiet for a long moment, carefully rinsing a plate. “I am concerned about the future.”
“You mean about the baby?”
“Partially. But also—” He set the plate down and turned to face her. “I worry that I cannot keep you safe. Any of you. That I have built this life on unstable ground and at any moment it could collapse.”
Her heart squeezed. She’d suspected he was carrying fear, but hearing him voice it was different. “You still think the Council will come after Mikoz.”
“I think they are desperate. Right now their only hope is the artificial reproduction program and it is not enough.”
“And you’re afraid.”
“Terrified,” he admitted. “I have already lost one family. The thought of losing another—of losing you—”
She pulled his head down and kissed him, trying to pour comfort and certainty into the gesture. When she pulled back, she kept her hands on his face.
“We’re not going anywhere. And if the Council comes, we’ll deal with it together. All of us.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not simple. But it’s true.” She kissed him again, softer. “We’re a family now. We fight for each other. And we don’t let fear steal our happiness.”
He pulled her close—as close as her belly would allow—and held her there. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, steady and strong.
“I will do everything in my power to protect you,” he said quietly.
“I know. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
The next few days continued in the usual comfortable rhythm.
Selik went out fishing each morning, returning with enough catch to sell at market and feed the family.
Anya continued her lessons, expanding them to include navigation and basic engineering with help from Jarrek’s father.
Mikoz grew more confident on his feet, toddling around the house and yard with increasing speed.
And she nested.
She wouldn’t admit it, of course. But she organized and cleaned and rearranged with single-minded focus.
Selik had built two new rooms at the back of the house and the baby’s room received special attention—she washed the tiny clothes Selik had acquired, folded them precisely, refolded them when they didn’t look right, then washed them again just to be sure.
She made lists. Supplies they needed. Potential names. Backup plans for various scenarios. Anya caught her making a list of lists and didn’t even try to hide her amusement.
“You know the baby won’t care if the blankets are folded or wadded up in a ball, right?”
“The baby will care about living in an organized environment.”
“The baby will care about being fed and not sitting in dirty diapers.”
“Those things are already on the list.”
“Of course they are.”
But even as she organized and planned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming.
Some shift in their peaceful existence. She told herself it was pregnancy hormones.
Anxiety about labor and motherhood and all the unknowns ahead.
Perfectly normal feelings that had nothing to do with actual danger. But the feeling persisted.
It was there when she woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and found Selik standing at the window, watching the street.
It was there when a delivery drone arrived with supplies and Selik checked the manifest three times, as if expecting something dangerous hidden among the groceries.
It was there in the way he’d started varying their routine, taking different routes to the market and shopping at different times.
She wanted to ask him about it, to push past his protective instincts and demand he share what he was thinking, but part of her didn’t want to know. She didn’t want him to give voice to fears that might manifest into reality. So she folded clothes and made lists and pretended everything was fine.
That afternoon she went to the market, Anya at her side and Mikoz secured in the carrier on her back.
They’d needed to restock supplies, and Selik had been delayed helping Jarrek’s father repair some equipment.
He’d been reluctant to let them go alone, but she had insisted.
She refused to become a prisoner in her own life, afraid to venture out without protection.