Page 14 of Rose
She groaned, washing her hands and splashing cold water on her face before unlocking the door.
The moment it opened, his eyes scanned her, instantly clocking what she tried to hide.
“I think I got a stomach virus or something. Been throwing up all day.”
But he didn’t buy it. His brows stayed furrowed, his mouth pressed tight with worry.
“You sure? You don’t look good. You need to hit the hospital?” He fired off the questions fast, like bullets, the big-brother mode fully activated.
She couldn’t help the faint chuckle that slipped out, despite how drained she felt.
“Calm down. Yes, I’m sure. I know my body, Mazi.” Her tone came out sharper than she meant.
He flinched a little but didn’t back down.
“Damn, okay,” he muttered, still eyeing her like she might drop dead any second.
She brushed past him, heading back to her tattoo station, but the moment she stood too fast, the room tilted.
Her knees buckled.
A’Mazi caught her before she hit the floor, his arms steady, holding her upright.
“Yeah... nah. You’re clearly not okay.” His voice hardened with that no-nonsense tone. “We’re going to the hospital. I don’t give a fuck what you’re saying.”
Too weak to argue, she leaned against him, breathing through the dizziness.
A’Mazi didn’t waste time. He turned to Taylor and Yori, their trusted receptionist and tattoo artist, already working the buzzing crowd.
“Hold down the shop until I get back,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for debate.
Taylor nodded, worry flashing across her face. Yori gave him a chin lift, already sliding on gloves to cover the next appointment.
And just like that, A’Mazi led his baby sister out the door, holding her up when she couldn’t hold herself.
A’Mazi’s Charger flew down the streets like they were running from something, tires screeching at every turn, the engine roaring through the heat of the day. Ahzii pressed a hand to her mouth, stomach rolling harder with every mile.
“I get you’re worried, but I’d at least like to make it to the hospital,” she said, voice sharp, fighting the nausea.
A’Mazi smirked, eyes on the road.
“I’m just trying to get your sick ass there before you throw up on my leather seats.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t have the energy to argue.
They reached the hospital in no time, A’Mazi parking fast and helping her inside. The check-in was a blur. The nurse’s voice faded in and out as she filled out paperwork and waited to be called.
Once she was finally in the back, the doctor’s questions came one after the other, quick and clinical. Then came the cup.
“Just routine. Let’s rule a few things out.”
She did it without hesitation, confident this was nothing but a stomach bug or exhaustion. But when the doctor returned, his expression softened, something careful in his voice.
“You’re six weeks pregnant.”
The words hit her like a freight train.
Pregnant.
