CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Ballon d'or
“Ma’am, I am ready.” I looked away from the horizon and rested my gaze on the petite young lady who had been my in-house nurse for the last four months. With my hands on my big belly, I marched towards her. Kylian came onto the terrace as I took my seat next to the nurse.
Standing a few steps from me, he watched as Beatrice, my nurse, wrapped the cuff of the blood pressure monitor around my upper arm in silence. His arms were crossed, his shoulders slightly hunched.
He is nervous.
I looked away from him and focused on Beatrice, as I was in no position to worry about his feelings. I was trapped between wanting to keep believing and bracing myself for the truth.
The last few months had been bad for me health-wise. About three months back, I was officially diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, and I had been battling that since. Kylian had to move to Madrid without me, and I was placed on bed rest until I had my baby. I changed my diet and was put on some terrible medications, and still, there had been no improvement. My blood pressure kept fluctuating, and nothing we did made it stable. Judging from the way Beatrice’s eyebrows drooped into a frown, I will say today was no different.
“What is it?” I asked in a low voice.
“160 over 100,” she answered, and Kylian let out a disappointed sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Just like that, the last thin line of hope which had frayed thread by thread over the last four months snapped, and all I felt was fear. I felt trapped and helpless. I am a mother, and I can’t even protect my baby.
“So what is the next step?” Kylian inquired with quiet despair.
“I recommend you check into the hosiptal immediately.”
“What?” I exclaimed with a faint wheeze.
“I know you don’t want that, but your average BP in the last week is 159 over 98. It’s not just your baby that’s at risk here, Ma’am, you are too. This is the only option.”
“But I feel fine,” I argued, as the last thing I wanted was to be in a hospital. I hate hospitals. I rubbed my hand over my chest, trying to stop my heart from racing.
“Maybe, but your numbers say otherwise and you’re experiencing shortness of breath.”
“What?”
“Your breathing feels shallow, right? Heart racing, and your lungs feel like you’re chasing air you can’t quite catch,” Beatrice muttered.
“What are you talking about?” Kylian’s lips parted in stunned disbelief. “When did that start?” he questioned me.
“This morning when I woke up.”
“And why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I thought it was a side effect of the third trimester,” I stated with indifference while he huffed.
“No, it’s not. Your condition is serious, Ma’am, and if we’re unable to get it under control within the week, you might be having an emergency C-section.”
“What?” I shouted and stood up. “What did you just say?”
“Ma’am, calm down.”
“You made me stay on bed rest for four months, I didn’t go out, took terrible drugs that gave me bad breath, and ate disgusting vegetables and you’re telling me that after all of that, I might not get to carry my baby to term?”
Kylian moved closer and held me.
“Bewaji, calm down. She is just the messenger.”
“Ballon d’Or is in a week. Will she be able to attend?” Kylian asked. With a mixture of surprise and disbelief, I gazed at him.
Ballon d’Or? Is this man serious?
“Of course, if we can get her BP under control,” the young nurse answered. “I will go make some preparations for you at the hospital.”
“Thank you, we will be in soon,” Kylian affirmed. I waited until the young woman left before I forcefully removed myself from his embrace and walked away from him.
“What is it?” he asked, surprised at my actions. Suddenly feeling a surge of energy, almost electric and needing a demanding release, I glared at the source of my anger.
“Ballon d’Or? Are you serious? I am fighting for my life and that of your child, and you are concerned about Ballon d’Or?” I lashed out.
“That was the plan, wasn’t it? For people to get to know you. I am looking forward to that. How is that a problem?”
“If you’re so interested in people knowing me, you should have done that last year, when we just got married.”
Then his shoulders slumped, and he released a deep, heavy sigh, looking helpless. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“I d—”
“This is not good for you,” he cut me off. “All this shouting is not good for you and the baby, so I am going to put a stop to it.” He moved to leave. “You should pack everything you need. I need you in that hospital in thirty minutes. I’ll meet you here.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“For my sanity and your health, I think I need to make myself scarce.” He walked a few steps and turned back to me. “What are we doing about your house?”
I looked at him with confusion. “What are we doing about my house? What are you talking about?”
“Do you want to sell it or rent it out?”
“Why would I do that?” I asked, clouded with even more confusion.
“You’re moving with me to Madrid after you have the baby, remember?”
“Of course I do. What does that have to do with my house?” I asked in a harsh tone.
“You’re getting angry again.”
“Can you stop explaining my feelings to me?” I yelled at him, and then silence followed. I looked at him, and he kept steady eye contact with me without challenge or hostility. An unflinching confidence bounced off him with a sense of control over the situation, unlike me, who was messy, with my emotions all over the place.
“Stop giving me that look!” I yelped.
“You’re different,” he concluded.
“There we go again,” I huffed.
“Ever since Marcus told you how he feels about you. Do you want to be with him, is that it?”
Heat surged beneath my skin. My jaw tightened as I furrowed my brows at my husband.
“I am fighting for my life, Kylian, my life and my baby’s and you are making this about Marcus? I could lose my baby because my body is failing me, and you think I changed because of Marcus?”
“I am going to go,” he said calmly.
“Do that,” I blurted out. He walked away, and I followed him when I remembered something. “Kylian!”
He looked back at me.
“Leave my house. I’m keeping it. I have a business attached to it.”
“We can move—”
“LEAVE MY HOUSE ALONE!” I interjected harshly.
“Okay.” He raised his hands. “As your ladyship pleases.” He opened the door and left. I walked back out to the terrace.
“Bewaji!” a voice called, and I found Alice at the glass door connecting the terrace to my room.
“Yes?”
“Kylian told me you are checking into the hospital.” I nodded. “I am sorry.”
“It is fine.” I gave her a soft smile. “When I have a healthy baby, it will all be worth it.”
“Yes, it will.” She smiled back at me. “Kylian also said you want to keep the house.”
“My business is here. I know handling it from Madrid won’t be easy, but I will figure it out,” I said.
“Okay, but I will like you to change the administration of this house.”
“Administration? What are you talking about?” I asked, perplexed.
“Change the Clouder’s.”
“You want me to fire them?” She nodded. “You know I can’t, the contract.”
“Talk it over with Kylian. I am sure he won’t mind.”
What is happening?
“Why should I fire them? I am not feeling them anymore, but they carry out their duties just fine.”
“I know, but I have my reasons.”
“Mind sharing those reasons?”
“I’m sorry,” she said politely.
“Then until you give me those reasons, they stay put.”
“Bewaji—”
“Leave me, Alice,” I dismissed her harshly.
“I will tell you when you have your baby,” she assured me and walked away.
My chest tightened, and a quiet panic continued to simmer inside me. I had tried everything to ignore it, but it just kept coming back to me. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind dragged me back to Frances.
I was overwhelmed with frustration mixed with a growing itch—imagining possibilities, some worse than reality. I felt powerless and out of control, growing more paranoid with each second, feeling irritated toward others without reason. The not knowing was gnawing at me, hollowing me out, and this wasn’t just curiosity anymore.
I can’t wait till then… Ballon d’Or is in a week. That is my dream night.... to be seen with Kylian. I don’t care if my BP is one thousand over one million, I have to be by his side. But I can only truly enjoy the day when there is no secret.
I still think you should wait. Your situation is critical.
Because my mind is a mess. I know I will be better when I know what they are not telling me.
So when you find out, what if it’s worse?
I need to know.
How, anyway? No one is telling you anything.
I know someone who will. I walked toward the table where my phone was and picked it up. Kylian's call came in at that moment.
What does he want?
You won't know unless you pick up.
"Hey, Bewa," he said the moment I picked his call, but I didn’t answer. "Are you here?"
"Yep."
"I am sorry for being insensitive earlier and riling you up for no reason. I will be lying if I said I am not frustrated at the situation. I thought with my years of being in the public eye, I would be better at handling my feelings, but I guess I am not. I am also sorry about bringing up Marcus too. We didn't talk about him confessing his feelings to you, I didn't know how you felt. I guess that got to me more than I realise. Don't worry about Ballon d’Or, if your health does not improve, I don't think I will go myself."
I stared into the phone in surprise.
"You don't have to do that," I muttered in a low voice.
"But I do. You and that baby are the most important people in my life, I have to protect you two... Bewaji, everything is going to be okay. Whatever happens, we will get through it together. I will meet you at the hospital."
"Okay and Kylian..... I am in love with you, not Marcus. I told him that, I am sorry for being vague about it" I heard him sighed in relief
"That is good to know, see you soon" He dropped the call.
He worked his ass off for that award, I can't let him forfeit it.
He is not forfeiting it, his mom or dad will represent him, maybe even Ethan.
No, not enough.
What is even the assurance that he will be receiving the award?
You know he will.
Please, don't call who I think you want to call
I dialed a number and placed the phone to my ear.
This is not reason enough to jeopardize your health.
I will be fine the moment I know the truth.
No, Bewaji, please don’t.
I need to know.
“Hello.” A voice on the other line answered.
“Hello, Frances. We need to talk.”
“Finally. I’ll send you my address,” she stated and cut the call.
She is waiting for you, Bewaji. Please don’t do this.
I NEED TO KNOW.
I blocked out my inner voice and went into my closet to change. I found Alice there, going through my stuff.
“What are you doing here?” I questioned her.
“Helping you pack.” She neatly placed my clothes into a bag.
“You don’t have to, but thank you.” I picked up my key bundle, which had the keys to my boat and cars.
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” I replied snappily and picked my coat off the rack.
“Bewaji, you’re not well. You can’t go out.”
“I need some air, Alice. I’ve been cooped up in this house for months, and now I’m going to the hospital. I need some air,” I yelled.
“Okay, let me finish packing your clothes and we will go together.” She tried to hurry up with the packing.
“You, Beatrice, Kylian, and Fazya have been hovering over me for months. I need some me time.”
She watched me intensely and said, “Fine, but you need to be in the hospital in an hour. Kylian will go berserk if you are not.”
“Thank you, Alice.” I appreciated her and left.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT SATURDAY 9.00 PM WAT
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