One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 114: Chapter 114
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The villa was quieter now.
The salt-kissed wind outside had softened. The children, sun-warmed and joy-spent, had curled into the folds of sleep. But Arielle couldn’t.
She stood barefoot in the room that would soon belong to their unborn child.
It had once been a guest room—a bland space with cream walls and unremarkable furniture. Now, it blossomed into something else.
A story waiting to be told.
Damien stepped in behind her, carrying a box of paint swatches and folded onesies.
“Still can’t sleep?”
Arielle shook her head, brushing her fingers along the smooth edge of the crib they’d assembled that afternoon. “I just... wanted to feel what it might be like. When they're finally here.”
He came beside her and slid a hand around her waist. “You’ve made this whole house feel like love. This room’s going to glow because it has you in it.”
She leaned into his touch. But even in the comfort of his arms, the dizzy spell returned.
Brief.
Blinding.
Gone.
She hid it with a breath.
Over the next week, preparations deepened.
Iris painted a mural on the wall—whales, moons, floating lanterns. Jonah built a mobile out of driftwood and string. Elijah, though quieter, spent hours researching baby monitors and safety gadgets.
And Damien—he read books. All of them. Even the ones with cartoon covers and cheesy tips. He brought her decaf tea, rubbed her feet, told her ten times a day she was beautiful.
“You’re nesting,” he said one night, watching her refold the baby blankets for the third time.
“Better than panicking,” she muttered.
He smiled but didn’t miss the new shadows under her eyes.
One afternoon, while the family shopped in town, Arielle stayed behind.
The nursery called to her.
She adjusted a frame. Rearranged the toys. Picked up the tiny socks Damien had left scattered.
Then the spell hit again.
Dizzy.
Darker.
She gripped the changing table, breaths shallow, vision spotting.
She sat on the floor, hand on her stomach, whispering, “Just hormones. Just tired.”
But the fear in her chest told another story.
She wouldn’t tell Damien. Not yet.
He had just found peace again.
She wouldn’t steal that from him.
That night, she stared at the ceiling fan spinning above their bed.
Damien’s arm draped across her, warm and heavy.
She thought of the baby. Of their children. Of the empire they’d built from grief and fire.
She wouldn’t break now.
She couldn’t.
Even if her body whispered otherwise.
Later, she returned to the nursery alone. Sat in the rocker beside the crib.
She imagined the baby cooing. First cries. First steps. First words.
And as tears slipped down her cheeks, she whispered, “Stay with me. Please.”
The stars outside blinked faintly, unaware of the silent storm beginning to churn beneath her skin.
The salt-kissed wind outside had softened. The children, sun-warmed and joy-spent, had curled into the folds of sleep. But Arielle couldn’t.
She stood barefoot in the room that would soon belong to their unborn child.
It had once been a guest room—a bland space with cream walls and unremarkable furniture. Now, it blossomed into something else.
A story waiting to be told.
Damien stepped in behind her, carrying a box of paint swatches and folded onesies.
“Still can’t sleep?”
Arielle shook her head, brushing her fingers along the smooth edge of the crib they’d assembled that afternoon. “I just... wanted to feel what it might be like. When they're finally here.”
He came beside her and slid a hand around her waist. “You’ve made this whole house feel like love. This room’s going to glow because it has you in it.”
She leaned into his touch. But even in the comfort of his arms, the dizzy spell returned.
Brief.
Blinding.
Gone.
She hid it with a breath.
Over the next week, preparations deepened.
Iris painted a mural on the wall—whales, moons, floating lanterns. Jonah built a mobile out of driftwood and string. Elijah, though quieter, spent hours researching baby monitors and safety gadgets.
And Damien—he read books. All of them. Even the ones with cartoon covers and cheesy tips. He brought her decaf tea, rubbed her feet, told her ten times a day she was beautiful.
“You’re nesting,” he said one night, watching her refold the baby blankets for the third time.
“Better than panicking,” she muttered.
He smiled but didn’t miss the new shadows under her eyes.
One afternoon, while the family shopped in town, Arielle stayed behind.
The nursery called to her.
She adjusted a frame. Rearranged the toys. Picked up the tiny socks Damien had left scattered.
Then the spell hit again.
Dizzy.
Darker.
She gripped the changing table, breaths shallow, vision spotting.
She sat on the floor, hand on her stomach, whispering, “Just hormones. Just tired.”
But the fear in her chest told another story.
She wouldn’t tell Damien. Not yet.
He had just found peace again.
She wouldn’t steal that from him.
That night, she stared at the ceiling fan spinning above their bed.
Damien’s arm draped across her, warm and heavy.
She thought of the baby. Of their children. Of the empire they’d built from grief and fire.
She wouldn’t break now.
She couldn’t.
Even if her body whispered otherwise.
Later, she returned to the nursery alone. Sat in the rocker beside the crib.
She imagined the baby cooing. First cries. First steps. First words.
And as tears slipped down her cheeks, she whispered, “Stay with me. Please.”
The stars outside blinked faintly, unaware of the silent storm beginning to churn beneath her skin.
End of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- Chapter 114. Continue reading Chapter 115 or return to One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- book page.