*2 weeks later*
The house entrance door swings open and I hear Darius' angry voice from upstairs. "I'm fine! It's a superficial cut... Damn it!"
I rush downstairs to find Darius being supported by two pack men by each side, bleeding heavily from a seemingly deep cut over his left ribs. There are quite a few other bruises and marks on other parts of his uncovered torso.
"What happened?" my hands run to him in concern, as if we had never even had a fight.
"Lila," he looks at me, "it's nothing. You shouldn't stress." There is an authoritative undertone to his words and I know he is referring to the possible child I might be carrying. It's been two weeks since we've had the 'accident', though. If I was pregnant, he should've felt it by now.
Still, I lay a protective hand over my abdomen a
