Page 213 of Before Dawn

I ended the call, dragged myself off the floor, and sank back onto the couch. Placing the heating pad on my stomach, I let its warmth soothe the ache. Exhaustion settled over me, and despite the lingering discomfort, my eyelids grew heavy.

I drifted in and out of a restless sleep, the pain still throbbing in waves through my body. Each movement felt like a Herculean effort, and I was barely aware of the passage of time when I heard a faint knock on my door.

Summoning what little strength I had, I shuffled to the door and pulled it open. Mikkel stood there, a box in his arms, his gaze sweeping over me with a mix of concern and determination.

Without a word, he stepped inside, set the box down on the table, and pulled me into a tight hug.

“I wasn’t exactly sure what you needed, so I picked up a few things,” he admitted softly. “Food since I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten, along with cake, fruits, and Lay’s just in case.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I swallowed. “I don’t know what to say…”

Mikkel pulled back slightly. “Did I get it wrong? I ca—”

“No,” I interrupted quickly, shaking my head. “You’re perfect. It’s perfect. I’m just… grateful. More than I can say.”

Relief softened his expression, and he pulled me into another hug, holding me gently against him. “I’m here now,” he whispered into my hair.

I buried my face against his chest and for the first time all day, a flicker of peace settled over me.

He was here, and that was all that mattered.

Eventually, he helped me get comfortable on the couch, adjusting the heating pad just right. As I sank into the cushions, he unpacked the box, neatly arranging everything on the coffee table within easy reach. Then, he set the yellow and white roses in the new vase—no wonder he’d bought a bigger one.

“Thank you for being here,” I whispered again, unable to stop the tears that slipped down my cheeks.

He kissed my forehead gently. “I’ll always be here with you, Red.”

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” I murmured, my voice still shaky with emotion.

His hand found mine. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

I squeezed his hand gratefully, and we spent the next hour in comfortable silence, nibbling on snacks. He gave me soft belly rubs as we chatted quietly about inconsequential things. The painkillers began to take effect, dulling the sharp edges of the cramps, though my stomach continued to churn uncomfortably.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” I admitted reluctantly. “My stomach’s cramping again.”

“Of course,” he replied, moving to help me from the couch to the bedroom, where he gently tucked me under the covers with the heating pad.

“I’ll clean up out there,” Mikkel offered quietly, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a gentle touch.

“Thank you,” I whispered, overcome once more by his kindness. “For everything.”

He kissed my forehead tenderly. “That’s what I’m here for,mi reina.”

Before meeting him, I thought to be loved was just being told you were loved. But to be loved is being seen. It’s being heard. It’s the way he listens to everything I say and understands what I haven’t, how he remembers the smallest details about me—even the ones I tend to forget. Love is found in the silence between us, never empty but filled with understanding. It’s knowing he’ll show up when I need him, without me asking. It’s the comfort of him making room for my flaws, fears, and dreams, never questioning it.

To be loved is knowing that even on my worst days, when I’m far from my best, I’m still worthy. It’s the reassurance that my lowest moments don’t define me, and in those times, I’m still cherished. Love isn’t about perfection; it’s the steady presence that reminds you, no matter what, you’re enough.

To be loved, to feel love, is to experience it from Mikkel. Because in all my life, the purest, most gentle love I’ve ever known has come from him.

Chapter Forty-nine

Abigail-Ann

“If I had to choose between breathing or loving you, I would say ‘I love you’ with my last breath.”

~ Shannon Dermott

---