Midnight Intruder’s Milk Claim - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

The days dragged on as I waited for his return, but a whole week passed without a single glimpse of him.
The disappointment cut deep. I kicked myself for not ripping off that damn mask when I'd had the chance.
If only I knew who he was, I wouldn't be stuck here like some lovesick fool. I could've tracked him down myself.
Just when I'd given up hope, on a Friday night, the familiar creak of the front door sent my heart racing.
I bolted toward the sound, ready to throw myself into the masked man's arms—only to freeze.
Nathan.
After the divorce, I'd never bothered to ask for the spare key back. Never changed the locks. Stupid, stupid mistake.
I thought I'd never have to see his face again. Yet here he was, that slimy bastard, waltzing into my home like he still owned the place.
But why now? And why so late?
I didn't have to wonder long.
He must've thought I was asleep. When our eyes met, he jumped like he'd seen a ghost, panic flashing across his face.
Then I saw it—the glint of steel behind his back.
A knife.
My pulse skyrocketed. "Nathan... what the hell are you doing?" My voice shook.
Before I could react, he lunged, pressing the blade to my throat.
"Nathan! Are you out of your mind?"
"My girl said if I don't get rid of that bastard in your belly, she's done with me!" His breath reeked of whiskey. "Either you take these pills, or I cut it out myself."
I nearly choked on the betrayal. This was the man who'd once promised to love me forever.
How had I been so blind?
His hand trembled, but his eyes were dead serious. Terror turned my legs to jelly—every horror movie death scene flashed through my mind.
Tears streamed down my face, but Nathan didn't flinch. He forced a pill toward my mouth.
"Please, Nathan—it's your baby. Five months along... it's got fingers, toes..."
"Bullshit! I saw some guy sneaking out of here yesterday!"
Yesterday? Had my masked lover been here without me knowing? Why would he hide?
The blade bit deeper. The coppery tang of blood filled my nose. In pure desperation, I sank my teeth into his hand like a rabid animal.
"Goddamn bitch!"
He threw me to the floor. White-hot pain exploded through my abdomen.
No time to think—Nathan was already coming at me, aiming a kick straight for my stomach.
This was it. I was going to lose everything.
Then—
"Evelyn! Hold on—cops are coming!" Theo's voice cut through the chaos.
The antiseptic hospital smell hit me first. My hands flew to my belly before my eyes even opened.
Still there. Still safe.
A sob tore from my throat as I felt the steady thump of my baby's heartbeat. In my nightmares, I'd watched Nathan stomp the life out of my child. The relief was dizzying.
"Evelyn? Thank God." Theo hovered by the bed, his usual shyness replaced by urgent concern. "I'll get the doctor."
I remembered now—he'd been the one to tackle Nathan, probably saving both our lives.
Half an hour later, the doctor finished his exam and started lecturing Theo like he was the father.
"Baby's tough, but no more stress. She needs rest, good food—you make sure she takes it easy, Dad."
I opened my mouth to correct him, but Theo just nodded earnestly, cheeks pink. He took every instruction like it was gospel, thanking the doctor like this was his child too.
When we were alone, I grabbed Theo's hand. "I owe you everything. That monster would've..."
I'd refused to call my parents—no need to give them heart attacks. Theo had arranged everything, even promised to find me a private nurse.
"Don't even think about paying me back," he said firmly. "Just heal. I'll check on you every day."
Then he told me the rest: Nathan bawling in jail, trying to play the "misunderstood husband" card.
I punched the hospital mattress. "Best decision I ever made was divorcing that psycho."