18. TRUTH #4
How are you feeling?
I stared at the text for a long moment, debating whether to lie or tell the truth. The truth felt too vulnerable. Too raw. But lying felt worse, especially after everything he’d said about honesty.
I typed back: Like death.
The response came almost immediately.
I’m sending someone.
I sat up too fast, and the room tilted. I had to close my eyes and breathe through another wave of nausea before I could type back.
You don’t have to?—
But before I could finish the text, my phone rang. Amai’s name again.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Dr. Chen will be there in twenty minutes.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, like sending a personal physician to someone’s house in the middle of the day was the most normal thing in the world. “She’s bringing anti-nausea medication and IV fluids. You’re dehydrated.”
“How do you know I’m dehydrated?”
“Because you’ve been throwing up all morning and can’t keep anything down. That’s what happens.” A pause. “Delphine told me.”
I blinked. “When did you talk to Mama?”
“She called me an hour ago. Said you were in bad shape.” Another pause. “I’m not letting you suffer through it without help.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to process the fact that Mama had called him, or that he’d answered, or that he was now sending a doctor to our house like it was nothing. When the fuck did they exchange numbers?
“Amai—”
“Dr. Chen will take care of you,” he said, cutting me off gently. “Let her. I’ll check in later.”
He hung up before I could argue.
I sat there holding the phone, staring at the blank screen, trying to figure out what had just happened. Trying to figure out why my chest felt tight and my eyes were burning, and I suddenly wanted to cry for reasons that had nothing to do with hormones.
Mama appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that knowing look she’d perfected.
“He’s sending a doctor,” I said quietly.
“I know. I told him to.”
“You called him?”
“You were throwing up every twenty minutes and couldn’t stand without swaying. What was I supposed to do?” She moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “That man gave me his number weeks ago and told me to call if you needed anything. So, I called.”
I looked at her. “And he just… answered?”
“On the second ring.” Mama’s expression softened slightly. “Said he’d handle it and hung up. Ten minutes later he called back and said Dr. Chen was on her way.”
I didn’t know what to say to that either.
“He’ll send a doctor quick, huh?” Mama said, her voice carrying that edge of humor that meant she was about to say something I wasn’t ready to hear.
“Apparently.”
“I think this man thinking y’all about to be a family.”
The words hit me harder than they should have. I looked away, focusing on the peeling paint on the ceiling and the water stain in the corner that had been there since I was a kid.
“I don’t know about all that,” I finally said. “He has a woman.”
Mama made a sound that was half laugh, half scoff. “Well, why in the fuck she ain’t have his baby? Can’t be too serious if he’s out here sending doctors to check on you in the middle of the day.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that, that this was just part of the arrangement, that Amai was protecting his investment. But the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, I knew Mama was right. This wasn’t about the contract anymore. This was something else entirely.
And I didn’t know what to do with that because things were going well with Kaisen.
He wasn’t hot and cold. He didn’t have a woman.
He was hella supportive. Hell, you’d think he was the daddy the way he acted.
It was getting complicated because I knew Kaisen wanted me for me.
Amai may have only wanted me because I was carrying his child, and the idea of the perfect family looked good.
I’d always wonder if he wanted me for me.
Dr. Chen arrived exactly twenty minutes later, just like Amai said she would. She was calm and efficient, carrying a medical bag that looked like it could handle anything. Mama let her in and led her straight to my bedroom without ceremony.
“Truth?” Dr. Chen’s voice was warm, professional. “I’m Dr. Chen. Mr. Landry asked me to check on you.”
I nodded, too exhausted to do much else.
She set her bag on the nightstand and pulled out a blood pressure cuff, a thermometer, and a stethoscope. “Let’s see what we’re working with. When did the nausea start?”
“This morning. Around 5:45.”
“And you’ve been vomiting since then?”
“Yeah. Can’t keep anything down.”
She nodded, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm.
“That’s common in the first trimester. Your hormone levels are spiking, and your body is adjusting.
Some women handle it better than others.
” She pumped the cuff and watched the gauge.
“Your blood pressure is a little low. When’s the last time you had anything to drink? ”
“I tried ginger ale a few hours ago. Didn’t stay down.”
“Okay. We’re going to get some fluids in you and give you something for the nausea. You’ll feel better in about thirty minutes.” She pulled an IV kit from her bag and started prepping my arm. “This might pinch a little.”
It did. But the relief that came after—the cool rush of saline entering my bloodstream, the anti-nausea medication working its way through my system—was worth it.
Dr. Chen stayed for forty-five minutes, monitoring the IV, checking my vitals, asking questions about my symptoms and my diet and whether I’d been able to rest. By the time she packed up her bag, the nausea had dulled to a manageable ache, and the exhaustion felt less crushing.
“You should feel significantly better by tonight,” she said and handed me a prescription bottle. “Take one of these every six hours if the nausea comes back. And drink plenty of water. Small sips throughout the day. Don’t wait until you’re thirsty.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “Mr. Landry will want an update. I’ll let him know you’re doing better.”
She left, and Mama walked her to the door. I heard them talking in low voices in the hallway, but I couldn’t make out the words. When Mama came back, she was shaking her head, that knowing look back on her face.
“That man really sent a whole doctor to the house,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“In the middle of the day.”
“Yeah.”
Mama sat on the edge of the bed again, studying me with those sharp eyes. “You still think this is just business?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know anymore.
And that scared me more than anything.