Orion slumped back against the cushions of the couch, his entire body feeling heavy and uncooperative. He winced as a sharp twinge of pain shot through his lower back, the pressure there growing unbearable. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and exhaling shakily.

"My back hurts," he muttered, his voice strained. "And I feel nauseous..."

His hand instinctively went to his stomach, rubbing slow, soothing circles over the tight, round surface. But it did little to ease the discomfort. The pressure was building in his abdomen, and the sensation of nausea was growing stronger with each passing second. He pressed a hand to his mouth, hoping to quell the rising tide, but his stomach lurched violently in response. Orion gagged, his body trembling with the effort of holding back the wave of nausea.

Articus, seated nearby, noticed immediately. His eyes widened with concern, and he quickly stood, his chair scraping against the floor in his haste. "Orion?" he called softly, already moving to fetch something to help.

Orion swallowed thickly, one hand still pressed over his mouth as he gagged again, this time more forcefully. His other hand tightened its grip on his belly, as though clutching it could somehow keep everything in place.

Articus returned swiftly, a bucket in hand, which he set down beside Orion, ready for the worst. He knelt down next to the couch, his face filled with concern as he watched his son struggle to keep the nausea at bay. He reached out and rubbed small circles on Orion's back, trying to offer some form of comfort.

"Take it slow," Articus urged in a calm, steady voice. "Don't fight it. Just breathe."

Orion took in a shaky breath, though it felt like his insides were in revolt. His back ached, and the dull, pulsing discomfort in his abdomen seemed to twist and coil tighter with every passing moment. The nausea lingered like a shadow at the back of his throat, threatening to overtake him again.

"I hate this," Orion whispered, his voice strained with frustration. "I hate feeling like I'm going to be sick all the time."

Articus offered him a sad smile. "I know, son. You're almost there. It'll all be worth it soon."

Orion groaned, leaning forward slightly, trying to alleviate the pressure in his back, though it barely made a difference. "That doesn't help right now," he muttered through clenched teeth, his frustration evident in every word. He sat back up with a wince, pressing his hand firmly against his lower back, rubbing at the tight muscles there.

Articus's hands remained steady on his son's back, trying to knead out some of the tension that had built up. He could feel the tightness there, how Orion's body seemed to be rebelling against him with every step toward labor. "You're doing everything you can. Just take it one breath at a time."

Orion nodded slightly, though his jaw was still clenched tight, the nausea still swirling inside him like a storm. He leaned his head back against the couch once more, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing, trying to push away the feeling of sickness.

But another sharp pang hit his lower back, and Orion let out a low moan of discomfort, his hand gripping the armrest tightly. He opened his eyes and looked at Articus, his expression both weary and anxious. "It feels like it's never going to stop," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly.

"It will," Articus said softly, moving to sit on the edge of the couch next to Orion. "And when it does, you'll have your baby in your arms. This is just the last hurdle, and I'm here with you, no matter what."

Orion didn't respond immediately, his face still pale, his breaths shallow as he fought the nausea. He reached down to his belly again, rubbing it in slow circles as if reassuring himself that the baby was still safe inside him.

Another gag forced its way up his throat, and Orion hunched forward slightly, his face scrunching in discomfort. He clamped his hand back over his mouth as Articus reached out, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Do you want to lie down for a bit? Maybe lying on your side will help take the pressure off your back." Articus suggested, his voice gentle.

Orion shook his head weakly. "I don't know. It hurts either way," he whispered, his voice filled with exhaustion.

Articus sighed softly. He hated seeing his son like this—so vulnerable, so worn down by the physical toll of the pregnancy. But he knew there wasn't much he could do except be there, support him, and offer what little comfort he could.

He watched as Orion took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm his rolling stomach, and for a moment, the nausea seemed to ease slightly. But it wasn't long before another wave hit, and Orion hunched over, this time retching into the bucket that Articus had placed by his side.

The sound of it broke Articus's heart, and he rubbed his son's back gently, murmuring soft words of comfort. "That's it, just let it out. It's okay."

Orion groaned weakly once the bout of nausea had passed, his body trembling from the effort. He leaned back against the couch once more, his face pale and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the thought of enduring more of this made him feel utterly defeated.

"I can't take much more of this," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this."

Articus's heart ached for his son. He knew Orion was at the end of his rope, the last few weeks of the pregnancy pushing him to his absolute limit. But he also knew that they were so close to the end now—just a little longer, and this would all be over.

"You're stronger than you think," Articus said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Orion's damp forehead. "You've made it this far. You're going to get through this, I promise."

Orion looked at his father, his eyes filled with exhaustion and frustration, but also with a flicker of hope. He nodded weakly, leaning into Articus's comforting touch as he closed his eyes once more.

"Just a little longer," Articus murmured, his hand resting on Orion's shoulder, offering what strength he could.