Giving Birth to The Italian Billionaire’s Baby

I nod. I look directly into her eyes to assure her that I’m saying this sincerely. “I’ve already told you that I won’t let Altezza choose. And I’m still standing by my word.”

“I won’t hold him back. You can keep my promise.”

“So you don’t need to worry. If he truly loves you, he’ll stay by your side.”

“Of course, he loves me. Do you still need proof for that?” She asks challengingly, reaching into her pocket. She hands me her phone. I know this probably won’t be pleasant, but I still press the play button.

I see the six-inch screen and I can confirm that the background in this video is part of the hospital roof.

“Say you love me. You can’t live without me,” I hear Jovanka’s voice clearly, despite the loud wind.

“Yes, Jovanka. I love you and I can’t live without you,” Altezza answers. Even though I can’t see him clearly, I can recognize the back of my own husband. The back I often see every morning.

Tears well up in my eyes. My heart feels so painful. I can only bite the inside of my lip, hoping to hold back the pain in my heart for just a moment. Trying to keep these tears from flowing without permission.

I hand the phone back to its owner. “Congratulations,” I say sincerely. “If my husband still loves his ex-wife, what can I do?” I say with a smile, trying to appear indifferent. She doesn’t need to know how deeply her actions have hurt me.

“Thank you,” I hear her mocking reply. “So now it’s proven that he’s crazy about me and afraid of losing me. So I hope you’ll retreat gracefully.” I try to smile again.

“You don’t need to worry. I’ll step back if that’s what’s needed. Now, could you leave? Because I’m tired. I need to sleep.” I say. And the truth is just like that. Even though I’m not sure if I can sleep or not after this.

I watch the woman rise from her seat and leave me. Her gaze remains cynical and mocking. I ignore her scorn and choose to close my eyes because my body-or rather, my heart-feels so tired.

Why does it feel like this? It shouldn’t hurt this much if I don’t have any feelings for Altezza. It shouldn’t be like this if I just keep holding onto the contract we agreed upon from the beginning. It shouldn’t hurt this much if only I didn’t fall in love with my own husband.

I close my eyes with the back of my hand free from the IV tube. ‘Oh God, haven’t I prayed to You every night to keep our marriage intact? To open my husband’s heart so his love falls upon me? But why haven’t You granted my prayer?’

I wipe my tears roughly. Alright. I just need to wait for Altezza’s answer, right? Whatever Altezza says later, I’ll accept it. Whatever his answer is, that will determine the course of this story.

‘Oh God, if what I hear later doesn’t match what I want, then grant me strength, Your servant. I know that whatever Your decision is, it’s the best. Strengthen this weak heart of mine, oh Lord. Amen.’Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

I don’t know how long I dozed off. In minutes or hours. Because it feels like I just closed my eyes for a moment. But when I open them, I can see my mother, Mamma Delila, Aunt Emma, and also my husband in front of me.

“Madam…” he calls softly.

For God’s sake, I’ve missed his voice so much. My heart is pounding so hard, but my eyelids are filling with tears, especially when I see his grim and guilty face.

I try to smile in response to his greeting. I know he’s just as tired as I am, and I want to give him some peace. Because maybe this is the last thing I can do. His warm hand reaches out and gently holds mine, I turn my hand over just to return the grip. Who knows, this might be the last time we hold hands.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

Terrible. I answer in my mind. But of course, I don’t want to add to his burden and say that. I love him too much to hurt him and let him know about my pain.

“I’m okay. Our children are okay too,” I reply with as much strength in my voice as I can muster.

I see my three beloved women leave the room. It seems they want to give us some privacy to talk.

“I’m sorry,” my husband says softly.

I look at him puzzled. “Sorry for what?” I ask softly.

“For everything,” he replies sadly. “For all the mess that has happened lately. It’s all my fault,” he says with regret.

I smile, squeezing his hand with the last of my strength. “You don’t need to apologize. This is fate,” I answer sincerely. “The scenario that God has written for us,” I continue.

My husband looks stunned as he gazes at me. I just smile.

“How is Jovanka doing?” I prompt. There’s no way I can tell my husband that the woman just came and said something unpleasant, right?

“Right now, she’s starting to stabilize. Yesterday, she attempted suicide at the office by cutting her wrist. And last night, she tried to jump from the building’s roof,” my husband’s voice sounds so melancholic. I really want to hug him. But I have to hold back.

“She needs psychiatric treatment, Madam. The doctor said, without treatment, there’s a high chance she’ll attempt suicide again. Or even harm herself. And it would be dangerous if she hurts someone else.”

I simply nod my head. Even though I feel like everything my husband said isn’t true. Jovanka does need psychiatric treatment, but not because she intends to commit suicide, but rather to rid herself of her obsession with Altezza. What that woman did in front of me clearly indicates that she is sane and is executing everything with a clear plan. Jovanka just wants to toy with Altezza. She wants to make my husband feel guilty until he has no choice but to say ‘yes’ to her every demand. She plays her role so perfectly that even the experts can’t distinguish between acting and reality. But I don’t want to further burden my husband by voicing my thoughts.

“So what are you going to do now?” I ask, curious. Though deep down, I already have an inkling of what he’ll say. But still, I want to hear it from him.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “She doesn’t have anyone here. She can’t rely on anyone. No parents, no family to take care of her. While you still have your mother, Aunt Emma, and Mamma.” My husband’s words make me want to laugh sadly. I tug at the corner of my mouth and smile, agreeing with whatever my husband decides.

“She needs help, and no one else can help her but me,” he continues, to which I respond with another nod. “Would you be okay if I took care of her until she recovers?”

I look into his eyes. There’s a pleading look in them. I smile again.

“Would you leave her if I asked?” I want to ask him that in return, but I know I shouldn’t burden him like that. Instead of expressing what’s in my mind, I can only ask, “Do you believe it’s the best thing for her?” and I see him nod. “If you believe it’s the best for her, then do it. I won’t object,” I reply, trying to sound strong.

My husband smiles, looking pleased with what I’ve just said. Little does he know that I’m actually hurt by that decision. But seeing him glowing and optimistic, I can’t help but smile along.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing the back of my hand. “I know you’ll understand my situation, Madam.”

I stay silent. ‘No, Al. I don’t understand. I really don’t want to understand. But this situation forces me to. As much as I understand my own worthlessness in your eyes.’ My inner voice stings.

“Go on. Maybe she’s waiting for you,” I softly command. Not because I’m willing to let him go, but because I can no longer hold back these tears. I don’t want him to see them. I don’t want him to see my vulnerable side.

“But…”

“You just relax. I’ll take good care of these babies. Go and take care of Jovanka until you feel you’ve helped her enough,” I command, still smiling.

He smiles again and nods. He rises to his feet and kisses the top of my head. I try to bite my lip and keep smiling until he disappears behind the door.

I thought I was strong, but I’m not. Even before the door closes tightly, my tears burst forth uncontrollably.

The three women I cherish appear and look at me sadly. I cry, sobbing in their embrace. “Mother…” I reach out to my mother’s body tightly, begging for her energy so I can endure.

Mamma hugs me from behind. Her hands feel like they’re stroking my arms, as if she’s trying to send her positive energy to me.

And my Auntie looks tearful in the corner of the bed while holding onto my foot.

‘Oh God, I didn’t think it would hurt this much. But it really does hurt. But for the sake of my children, I beg you to give me strength.’

I keep crying until my body feels limp. Even Stefanie is surprised to see me in such a state during her routine check-up visit. She must have seen my swollen eyes and red nose. But I still try to smile at her.

Yes. At least I can still smile even though my heart is crying. Because I don’t like to see the pitying glances people