She couldn't tell David. Not yet. The fear of confirming her worst suspicions, of shattering his reality too, kept her lips sealed.
One night, as she lay awake beside David, his steady breaths a soothing rhythm, she reached out and touched her stomach. It was still flat, unyielding, but the touch sent a tremor through her, a spark of anticipation igniting in the darkness.
"David," she whispered,
"Do you ever feel like...like something extraordinary is about to happen?"
David stirred, his eyes blinking open sleepily. "What do you mean?" he mumbled
Maya choked on her response.
Was the dream, the king, the whispers…were they real?
She couldn't bring herself to voice the question, the fear still too strong.
Perhaps the dream wasn't a burden, but a calling. Perhaps the child wasn't a curse, but a bridge between worlds.
Could she accept the burden of saving two worlds, of raising a child with unimaginable power? The responsibility felt like a mountain on her shoulders, threatening to crush her.
"You seem lost lately," David murmured, his fingers tracing idle circles on her back.
Maya forced a smile. "Just tired, honey. Work and the kids..."
The words felt hollow, even to her own ears. But how could she confess the truth? How could she tell him about the king, the dream, the impossible child growing within her? The mere thought sent a tremor of fear through her.
His lips brushed her neck
"Then let's take a break," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "Just us, for a night."
His touch felt foreign now, like a reminder of a life slipping away. She yearned for the comfort it offered, but the image of the child, a phantom presence within her, held her back.
"Not tonight," she said,
"I... I have a headache."
Disappointment flickered across his face,
"Are you sure? You haven't been yourself lately."
His concern felt like another weight on her already burdened chest.
"It's nothing," she lied, forcing a smile again. "Just a long day."
David's hand rested on her abdomen, a gesture both tender and familiar. Panic clawed at her throat.
Could he feel it?
She pulled away, the movement sharp and involuntary.
"David, I..." she began, but the words stuck in her throat.
He looked at her, "What is it, love?"
"I'm just tired," she lied, the taste of ash in her mouth.
He pulled her close, his warmth a soothing balm against the storm within. "Then rest, my love," he whispered.
"Everything will be alright."
Each day, the weight in Maya's stomach grew heavier, a physical manifestation of the secrets she held close. The truth, a fantastical burden, pressed down on her chest, making each breath feel like a struggle.
Denial, her shield for so long, had crumbled, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
On her way home from work, the setting sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk, Maya felt the familiar pang of guilt.
She forced a smile again as she greeted the kids, their innocent chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil within her.
"Mommy, you're acting weird," Lily observed.
"Weird?" Maya's smile faltered. "What do you mean, sweetie?"
"You're quiet a lot," Leo chimed in, "And you always say your stomach hurts."
David intervened. "Maybe Mommy's just tired, guys. Work has been stressful lately."
Maya nodded gratefully, the lie leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. How long could she keep this charade going? The suspicion in her children's eyes, the worry etched on David's face, were daggers to her heart.
Dinner was a tense. Each question, each concerned glance, felt like an accusation.
Later that night, as the children lay asleep, David confronted maya.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.
"Maya," David finally started, his voice gentle yet firm.
"There's something you're not telling me. Something about why you're not yourself lately."
"I just told you, it's nothing," she snapped, her voice sharper than he'd ever heard it. The pot clattered, spilling water onto the stovetop.
David's eyes narrowed. "Is it work? Are you having problems at the office you haven't told me about?"
She shook her head, "Work is fine."
He wasn't convinced. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Then what is it, Maya?"
Her silence stretched, each passing second a hammer blow to his growing suspicions. He knew her well, knew the way her eyes flickered when she lied, the nervous tremor in her hands.
This wasn't just work stress. This was something deeper, something she was desperately trying to hide.
"What about me? What about our family?" His voice rose, frustration boiling over.
"Are you seeing someone else?"
The words hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. Maya's face drained of color, her eyes widening in shock and hurt.
"What are you talking about?" she stammered,
"David, how could you even..."
"The signs are all there," he interrupted, his voice laced with bitterness.
"The late nights, the secretive phone calls, the way you flinch when I touch you."
"Those are just..." she started, but the words died in her throat.
The truth, the impossible truth about the dream, the king, the child, felt more unreal than ever in the face of his accusations.
"Don't lie to me, Maya," he said, his voice hardening
"There is no one else" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, you have to believe me."
He didn't. The doubt shone bright in his eyes, a chasm opening between them where trust once resided.
"Then what is it?," he demanded, his patience wearing thin. "What are you hiding from me? From us?"
"You're not fooling anyone, You're pregnant, and you're acting like a stranger in your own home."
His words, sharp and accusatory, cut through the silence like a knife. Maya's lips trembled, her eyes welling up with unshed tears.
Tears streamed down Maya's face, her pain mirroring his own.
"There's nothing I can tell you yet, David," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
"Please just believe me."
His anger morphed into a cold fury. "Believe you? You've turned our life into a lie"
His voice, devoid of emotion. "Until you're ready to tell me the truth, I don't want to see you."
Her silence was his answer. It was a deafening silence, filled with unspoken accusations and shattered trust.
He stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Maya alone in the wreckage of their conversation.
Tears streamed down her face, blurring the lines between anger and despair. She wanted to scream, to shout the truth, but the fear, the fear of his disbelief, kept her lips sealed.
The storm within Maya finally broke. Back in her bedroom, she flung herself onto the bed, tears mixing with the scream that ripped from her throat, a primal cry of frustration and despair
"Please tell me I'm dreaming"
"Why?!" she shrieked, "Why me?
She flung herself onto the bed, tears mingling with the anger burning in her eyes. The king's face, his touch a violation, his prophecy a curse.
"You wanted a bridge?" she spat out.
"You wanted a savior? You shoved this nightmare onto me, a woman with a grocery list and a mortgage, and you expect me to handle it alone?"
The image of her children, their innocent faces filled with confusion, flickered in her mind. A wave of guilt washed over her, momentarily tempering the rage. But the anger quickly returned, fueled by the unfairness of it all.
"Why couldn't you choose someone else?" she cried out
"Why did you choose me, a simple woman with enough problems as it is? Did you think I wouldn't crumble under the weight of your fantastical destiny? Did you think I wouldn't resent being turned into a vessel?"
She slammed her fist against the mattress
Amidst the anger, a sliver of fear remained. What if David was right? What if this wasn't a dream, but a delusion, a crack in her sanity? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, adding another layer to the turmoil within.
She fell asleep.
The morning light crept through the window. But for Maya, the dawn brought no peace.
She stole a glance at the other side of the bed, David's absence a physical confirmation of the emotional chasm that had opened between them.
The silence was broken by the patter of tiny feet.
Lily skipped into the room, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Mommy, where's Daddy?" she asked, her voice innocent.
Maya's throat tightened, the lie already forming on her tongue.
"He had to work early, sweetie," she said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "But he'll be back soon."
The truth, heavy and complicated, was beyond the grasp of her six-year-old daughter. But the shadow of her own turmoil clouded her voice, and Lily's brow furrowed with concern.
The morning routine unfolded in a blur. Breakfast was prepared, plates set, the scent of pancakes filling the air. But the joy that usually accompanied these shared moments was absent, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the chatter of the children, oblivious to the storm brewing within their parents.
On the table, next to the vibrant plates of pancakes, sat a single untouched one. David's. A silent plea, an offering of hope amidst the growing distance. Would he accept it? Would he return, ready to listen, to understand?
Leo, however, seemed oblivious to the tension. He dug into his breakfast. Lily, sensing her mother's distress, snuggled close, her small arms offering a fragile comfort.
As the morning wore on, the weight of the lie grew heavier. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, the silence amplifying her doubts and fears.
Should she tell the children the truth? Could they understand the fantastical, impossible reality she was facing?
As evening approached, the empty chair mocked her. David hadn't returned.
Exhaustion, emotional and physical, finally claimed her. She tucked the children into bed, their trusting faces a balm to her soul. Holding them close, she whispered a lullaby.
Eight months had crawled by, eight long months since the king's spectral touch. The bump on Maya's stomach, once a secret hidden beneath loose clothes, now blossomed proudly.
David's absence had morphed into a dull ache, a constant presence in the empty spaces of their home.
Lily, her imagination fueled by fairytales, confided,
"Mommy, do you think you're having a princess?"
Maya forced a smile, the weight of the truth crushing her heart.
"Maybe, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.
One afternoon, while reading a bedtime story about a brave princess, Lily dropped a bombshell.
"Mommy, why didn't Daddy come to my play?" she asked, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
The question, simple yet profound, ripped the scab off Maya's barely healed wound. The lie, the silence, they were suffocating her, poisoning their family.
One afternoon, while reading Lily and Leo a story, a knock on the door shattered the familiar rhythm of their day. Lily's eyes widened with curiosity.
Maya opened the door. A woman stood there, her face etched with concern. "Maya?" she asked.
Recognition dawned. It was Sarah, David's sister. "Sarah?" Maya stammered, her voice rusty from disuse.
"David asked me to come," Sarah said, her eyes scanning Maya's face.
"He's worried about you."
The news, a flicker of hope in the darkness, brought tears to Maya's eyes. "He is?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Sarah nodded
"He wants to see you, Maya. But he understands if you're not ready."
Maya looked at Lily and Leo, their small faces filled with anticipation
Taking a deep breath, she said, "I'm ready, Sarah. Take me to him."
The car ride was filled with a tense silence. Sarah, sensing Maya's anxiety, squeezed her hand in silent support. As they arrived at a quaint cottage nestled amidst rolling hills, Maya's breath caught in her throat.
David was there, standing on the porch, his face etched with worry and regret.
Their eyes met, a chasm of unspoken words hanging between them. Then, slowly, tentatively, he took a step forward.
"Maya," he said.
The words were few, but they spoke volumes. The hurt, the anger, the longing – it was all there, raw and exposed. Maya, her own tears welling up, mirrored his gesture, stepping closer.
Maya's foot hovered, inches from bridging the gap between her and David. The yearning in his eyes mirrored her own, a desperate hope for reconciliation after months of silence.
But just as she was about to step closer, a searing pain ripped through her abdomen, doubling her over.
A scream tore from her throat.
The child is coming.
At the same moment, the sky above them began to writhe. Colors bled into each other, swirling in a mesmerizing dance of violet, gold, and azure. The air grew thick with an otherworldly energy. The birds fell silent, the wind stilled, as if the world itself held its breath.