Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 07

Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 07 You Don’t Get To Care Now

Aira thought if she ignored him long enough, he would stop.

That was how distance worked, wasn’t it? Silence, space, time — eventually, everything faded.

Except Lucien Blackwood was not the type of man who faded.

He didn’t overwhelm her with calls. He didn’t flood her phone with messages that demanded immediate replies.

That would have been easier to deal with.

Instead, he was… deliberate.

Controlled.

Every two days, without fail, there was something.

A message that looked harmless on the surface.

Did you eat?

You left your medical file here.

You forgot your scarf in my car.

Small reasons.

Always small.

Aira would stare at the messages longer than necessary, her thumb hovering over the screen before she either gave a short reply or ignored them completely. And each time, she told herself the same thing.

This meant nothing.

But deep down, she knew better.

Lucien wasn’t trying to reconcile.

He wasn’t apologizing. He wasn’t asking for another chance.

He was doing something far more unsettling.

He was refusing to disappear.

And that made it worse.

Because it meant he wasn’t letting go.

It meant he was staying close enough to notice things.

Close enough to feel the changes she was trying so hard to hide.

By the third day, Aira had almost convinced herself she could manage it. That she could maintain the distance, keep things neutral, keep him at the edge of her life without letting him step any closer.

Then she saw him again.

The engagement dinner had been unavoidable. A mutual friend, someone important enough that her absence would have raised questions she didn’t want to answer.

She had considered not going.

Staying home. Avoiding the possibility entirely.

But she was tired.

Tired of adjusting her life around him.

Tired of shrinking to make things easier.

So she went.

And the moment she stepped into the restaurant and saw him already seated at the table—

Something inside her folded quietly.

Not dramatically.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But enough that she felt it.

Lucien looked up almost immediately, as if he had sensed her presence before he even saw her.

He stood.

The movement was instinctive.

Unthinking.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t greet her like everyone else did.

He just watched.

And that was worse.

Aira forced herself to keep moving, to walk toward the table like nothing

had shifted, like the air hadn’t thickened the second their eyes met.

The others filled the space easily. Laughter, conversation, polite questions about work and life. Someone teased her about being late. Someone else pulled her into a quick hug.

Normal.

Everything felt normal.

Except it wasn’t.

Because Lucien barely spoke.

He answered when necessary. Nodded when required.

But his attention—

His attention never left her.

Aira felt it in the smallest ways.

Every time she adjusted in her seat.

Every time she reached for her glass.

Every time she shifted her posture to ease the quiet discomfort that had settled low in her body.

His gaze followed.

Not obvious.

But constant.

It made it hard to breathe properly.

Harder to act like she wasn’t aware of him.

She barely touched her food.

At first, no one noticed.

Then someone joked about her dieting.

She smiled. Brushed it off.

But Lucien didn’t.

Of course he didn’t.

By the time she excused herself to go to the restroom, her chest felt tight from holding herself together.

She stood, murmuring a quick excuse before walking away from the table, her steps measured, controlled.

She almost made it halfway down the hallway before she heard it.

Footsteps.

Steady.

Familiar.

Aira stopped.

Her shoulders tensed slightly before she spoke, her voice calm despite the tension building in her chest.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not following you.”

“You are.”

This time, he didn’t deny it.

The silence stretched for a second before he spoke again.

“You barely touched your food.”

Aira closed her eyes briefly before turning to face him.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

His tone wasn’t accusing.

It was observant.

And that made it harder to dismiss.

She met his gaze, her expression tightening. “You don’t get to monitor me.”

His jaw shifted slightly. “I’m not monitoring you.”

“You are.”

The word landed firmly between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The hallway was quieter than the restaurant. The noise from inside

muffled, distant.

Private.

Too private.

It made everything feel sharper.

More exposed.

Lucien took a small step closer.

Not enough to invade her space.

But enough that she felt it.

“I’m trying to understand what changed,” he said.

Aira let out a soft breath, her gaze holding his. “You changed it.”

“I didn’t change you.”

“No,” she said quietly. “You changed us.”

The words settled between them, heavier than anything else she had said that night.

Lucien stilled.

And for the first time since the conversation began—

Something in his expression shifted.

Not control.

Not certainty.

Something closer to impact.

He stepped closer again, slow, deliberate, his presence filling the space without touching her.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked.

Aira’s lips parted slightly before she answered.

“I don’t know what it is for you,” she said. “You don’t let me.”

That had always been the truth.

He felt deeply.

But he hid it better than anyone she had ever known.

And that distance—

That emotional restraint—

Had been the beginning of everything that went wrong.

Lucien’s gaze dropped.

Instinctively.

Naturally.

To her abdomen.

This time, he didn’t look away immediately.

Aira felt it.

The shift in his focus.

The weight of his attention.

Her breath caught before she could stop it.

“You keep doing that,” he murmured.

Her heart started beating faster. “Doing what?”

“Protecting something.”

The words were quiet.

Careful.

But they landed like a spark against something dangerously close to ignition.

Aira forced her expression to remain steady, even as her pulse spiked.

“It’s a habit.”

“Since when?”

She didn’t answer.

Because there was no safe answer.

Not one that wouldn’t lead to more questions.

Not one that wouldn’t pull him closer to the truth she had spent so long guarding.

For a moment, the air between them shifted.

Not into suspicion.

Not fully.

But into something else.

Something instinctive.

Something that didn’t rely on logic.

And that was what made it dangerous.

Then—

Their names were called from inside.

The moment fractured.

The tension snapped just enough to let reality back in.

Lucien stepped back first.

But something had changed.

Aira saw it clearly now.

In the way his gaze lingered a second longer.

In the way his expression lost a fraction of its certainty.

Replaced by something sharper.

More aware.

He wasn’t confused anymore.

He was paying attention.

And that—

That was worse.

Because Lucien didn’t ignore things once he noticed them.

He followed them.

He uncovered them.

He finished them.

And Aira knew—

He was getting closer.

That night, long after she returned home, Aira sat on the edge of her bed, the room dim and quiet around her.

Her hand rested over her stomach again, almost unconsciously.

This time, she didn’t pull it away.

Her fingers pressed slightly, as if grounding herself in something only she could feel.

“You can’t find out like this,” she whispered softly.

Her voice barely carried in the stillness.

Not from a glance.

Not from instinct.

Not from the way he noticed the smallest shifts in her without trying.

If Lucien was going to know—

It would not be like this.

It would not be because he pieced it together, because he followed a feeling, because he refused to let something go.

It would be because she chose it.

Because she was ready.

Because she said the words herself.

Aira closed her eyes slowly, her hand still resting where it had been.

Because once he knew—

Nothing would ever be the same again.

And the closer Lucien got to the truth—

The less control she would have over what happened when it finally came out.