Maxon POV

I gazed wistfully at my wife, studying her beautiful face. My head has felt like a whirlwind of emotions for months now, where there was so much chaos I didn't even know what I wanted. I already felt drowning in my work, and although I dearly love my wife I still felt all alone. It hasn't even been two years since the attack that turned my world upside down. I went from being a puppet of a crown prince with an embarrassing lack of actual power to a King with no family. Being a king who has no idea what he is doing is hard enough without figuring out how to hell to dissolve the caste system and those damn rebels. More often than not I have no idea what I'm doing and involuntarily start replaying my father's insults. Calling myself a weak, incapable ruler and I was going to ruin the country. I was unfit for the Shreave name and brought dishonor to my family. Funny how my reaction to all of these feelings is to distance myself from my wife and do something truly horrible. My infidelity was the real abomination of the Shreave name- disgracing my unborn child and wife and pushing them away when they are the only thing I need. Even with all this shame and grief in my heart, I still felt an intrinsic level of comfort and peace looking at her.

How could I not? Despite her somber demeanor, she was positively glowing. Her fiery hair shined under the natural light, and her icy gaze, set on a faraway point, was breathtaking. My wife has always been beautiful, both before and after she came to the palace, but since news of her pregnancy she's become infinitely more sensational. It almost feels meager to call her beautiful or gorgeous. She is not just beautiful, but she is beautiful. I hated myself for loving her so much and still betraying her. She was all I wanted and she wouldn't let me have her, and I can't say I blame her; this entire situation is my fault. If only I was a better man, king, husband, and dealt with the stress I wouldn't be here, begging, wishing for my wife's forgiveness, and desperately yearning to turn back time. I could have been going forward, not going back to how things used to be. Old feelings of shame. Old feelings of ridicule. Old feelings for Kriss. Old feelings of rebelling against my perfectly privileged life, and acting like a foolish boy.

I keep trying to tell myself that it doesn't have to be like it was when it wasn't that way anymore. I'm not an abused, bachelor prince anymore. I'm a husband with a pregnant Queen who has everything he could want, but I'm acting like none of that ever happened. I've neglected the most precious thing I've ever had and taken her for granted. I don't know when, and I certainly didn't know it at the time, but after I had to stop fighting for America and had her, I failed to treat her as she deserved and ended up neglecting her. And now here I was, watching her suffering as a manifestation of my mistakes. I didn't know what to do anymore. All I could tell her now was that I was sorry and loved her, but that didn't seem to come close to as sincere as it needed to be. I would make it up to her, I vowed, of course. Coming this close to losing her scared the hell out of me, and I'd do anything in my power to have her in my arms again. To have our family back together.

To clear my anxious thoughts, I glanced down at my watch for the time.
"It's getting late, Ames." I started, timidly waking up my hoarse voice. "It's a quarter past nine, and you haven't eaten anything since we left Angeles."

My voice seemed to startle her out of a trance, and she averted her gaze to her left.

"I haven't been hungry lately. And anyways I think May made up dinner and a room so I'll eat before bed." She replied tiredly, but without accusation or aggression. I just nodded to this, not sure what to say next.

"You're right though. It's getting dark." She paused a little, clearing her throat. "I don't know your plans, but if you are flying to the palace tonight you shouldn't go much later. I know your annual budget meetings start tomorrow, so." She quickly added at the end, nervously.

I exhaled. This was a little awkward, and I felt downright ashamed to have to ask to my wife.

"I'll respect your boundaries and give you everything you need. I'll leave if you tell me to. But I'd prefer to stay here, with you and our family… born and unborn." I added at the end. "And I know I'm not in a position to ask you this, and if you want I can't sleep in another room, hell even a couch. But, please America, I don't want to leave you. I don't want to be away from you anymore." This was followed by a long silence, which got more nerve-wracking with each minute she remained quiet. Finally, she let out a long sigh.

"I'm not going to quick you out, Max."

Relief filled me, head to toe.

"And...but it's a bad idea to sleep somewhere else. My family is too nosy for their own good and I know they would ask questions and I just… I can't talk about this with them right now…" She replied, getting teary at the end.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm sorry. You don't need to do anything you don't want to do ok? Right now you need to be home resting with your family. I know I don't deserve to be here, but it's what I want most in the entire world." She didn't say anything to that, just nodded silently.

A few minutes later we left Gerad to enjoy a quiet but peaceful dinner together in the empty Singer kitchen, who might have gotten word to give America her space. When we finished, she went to shower and prepare for bed while I washed the dishes. Despite America's emotional pain, I was living for this moment. Everything seemed so perfectly normal in this comfortable and amiable, yet modest home. My childhood in the palace consisted of lessons and meetings, things that should happen in a home-like simple chores, meals with family, just the bustle of the people of the house were always tabled if not scrapped from my life. America and I have talked about this at length before, but I'm well aware of my privilege and appreciative of it. But if I could have chosen, I would have never chosen to be a prince, much less a King.

I shook my head, willing my wandering mind to stop distracting myself. As I walked through the house to America and I's designated room, I felt out of place. Like I didn't belong here after what I did to America. I didn't deserve to be taken in and embraced by this family, and accepting their support with them unaware of my actions feels… wrong.

When I got back to our room, America was already in bed reading, with wet hair in a braid.

"Hey." She said, looking up at me, closing her book but staying on the page she was on.

"Hi," I said, sitting down at the edge of the bed. I was grateful for her benevolence at the moment and remained careful to keep my distance. "How are you feeling?" I asked ambiguously. She kept eye contact with me and gave a small shrug.

"Tired. I feel like I haven't slept well in weeks, and my morning sickness is getting worse."

"You've been having morning sickness?" I asked, surprised. I had been completely unaware of that. I didn't know that could happen when she wasn't even showing yet.

"It started a week and a half ago, on and off. A nap used to help but now I'm having trouble keeping anything down. I was going to see the doctor tomorrow about it, but it will have to wait until we get back." She said with another shrug. I realized this is the first time I've asked about our baby. I can't believe it, I've known about its existence for so long, but I didn't really know anything about my baby.

"How long?" I asked meekly.

"How long have I known? Or how old is it?"

"Both." Is all that I could say.

"Um, well I started getting sick three weeks ago, but I didn't see the doctor and find out until two. The Doctor thinks I could be 8 or 9 weeks along by now." Jesus. Almost two months. Two months of cheating on the mother of my child. Regret sank to the bottom of my stomach, hating that this is how I spent the first few weeks of being a father. I used to be afraid of turning into Clarkson, but now I think I know I have. Wasn't this proof? We're different men but we did the same thing.

"That's a long time." That was all I could say.

"Well I wanted to wait and surprise you before I show, and the baby is still really small. And, well, the doctor told me that the miscarriage rate is higher while it's still an embryo, and I didn't think anything would happen but I would have been too afraid to tell you before if something were to happen, I-" I cut her rambling off by gently grabbing her leg under the covers.

"America, you don't have to explain yourself, ok? I'm not upset you waited, I promise. But I also want you to know that it's not something you have to carry alone. God forbid something happens, but I couldn't bear it if you had to feel like you had to hide it from me." I stopped and caught my breath, tears threatening to fill my eyes. "I love you," I said earnestly. "And I love our baby. I can't even explain how much I love it already, but I do even though I don't know a thing about it. Do you know what we are having yet?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, "the baby is too small to see on an ultrasound right now." She stopped, and let out a little giggle that sounded like heaven. "The last time I went to the doctor, he told me my baby's the size of a blueberry. I don't think we can know for sure for a few more months". I stared at her stomach in awe with a stupid grin painted over my face. I squinted, trying to picture it.

"Are you serious? Really?" I asked gleefully. "I just… I knew you were pregnant but I haven't seen any signs. This, I guess, is the first physical point of reference I have to our baby." She let out the cutest smirk and playfully rolled her eyes. We both got quiet, staring at our baby in her womb. Finally, our first real moment together. America and I, with our baby, are like a real family. How it should be. I took a deep breath and surveyed the room as I stood up.

"Well, momma and baby need their rest." I looked at America on the bed and quickly glanced to the spot next to her. "I um, I'll turn off the lights and sleep here," I said, motioning to the most sleepable piece of furniture in the room, which turned out to be some ottoman.

I could hear America sigh, and I could almost hear her eyes roll in the dark. "You don't have to do that Max." I felt childlike like I was setting her up for that response when really I was just trying to make her comfortable.

"Sweetheart, it's ok. You know you don't have to let me sleep with you, I get it. I'll respect your space."

"Thanks, Maxon but really, it's fine. Come to bed, please." I needed no more than that to give up my resistance and join my wife. I felt awkward at first, trying to share this bed with her without any part of her touching me just in case. I lay on my back, her on her side when she whispers,

"Will you hold me?" Those four words seemed like the sweetest sound I've ever heard. Finally, I got to embrace my wife whom I've been so lonely for. I kissed her cheek before wrapping my arms around her. She guided my hand down to her stomach and held it there, as we drifted off to sleep.

Thank you all for reading, and your support! I really appreciate it. I have been looking at the traffic stats, and was so surprised about all the international readers! I'm so grateful for all of you, and I hope you enjoy it. I'm always open to feedback.

Para mi sorpresa, vi que hay muchos lectores que vienen de América Latina. Gracias por leer mi cuento, no sabía de la población internacional quienes son fan de la Selección, que neta:) Me gustaría saber si ¿Leen esta cuenta en la lingua original (inglés) o usan traducción por leer en español o otra lingua? Dejenme saber por dejar un comentario:)