Alana didn't sleep that night, she lay awake cradling her stomach. Waiting for his return. She had cried until there weren't any more tears left to shed.

Why did she have to say that? Why did she fight with him at all? She had known from the beginning that he wasn't going to love her? She had repeatedly reminded herself of this countless of times, and yet...Why had it bothered her so much that night?

Was it the realisation that maybe their intimate moments together—while for her had been the best of her life—for him it had been forced? Alana had imagined it. Him forcing himself to be with her and regretting it because he felt he betrayed that woman. But for sake of saving Luka had to tolerate her and fūck her?

It had been thinking those thoughts, how he could have possible forced himself to be with her that was the most painful.

The outburst had been uncalled for, but at that moment she had really resented him.

Now he wasn't ever going to tolerate her anymore. She had lost his respect the moment she strung those words. From now onwards, he was going to treat her as a true surrogate that she was.

Alana knew he was bound to return. He wouldn't leave her knowing his son, Luka, was there inside of her. Because of his love for Luka he was going to return to that island.

And so Alana stayed up all night waiting for him to come back so that she could apologise. She stayed up until the first breaks of dawn. Just aimlessly waiting.

When morning came she didn't leave her bed. Then her bladder and hunger prodded her brain's relay centre until she relented. Alana would have ignored those sensations and continued lying there had it not been for the child inside of her.

After using the bathroom, she went to the kitchen to make breakfast for herself. She rubbed her growing stomach.

"You and your dad... Why must you Fury men torment me so? Hmmm, little bean?" She rubbed her stomach as she spoke to that son.

"I didn't mean to push him away. I didn't mean to say that to him. I'm sure your real mother didn't really want to leave him, right? How could she leave him? How could she leave both of you behind? I'm so sorry."

If she couldn't apologise to Lylas then she would apologise to his son. After eating, Alana decided to paint using the equipment from before.

She was reminded of that rainy Sunday during that explosive weekend. He had spent the whole day teasing her just her get her to sleep with him. It awed Alana to think that day had been exactly three months ago. It felt like an ancient lifetime away.

There was something about being alone in this island that unsettled Alana. She painted to get away from that feeling. It curbed inside her, making her anxious and fearful.

The feeling was soul binding and she couldn't describe its entirety, however, Alana felt its suffocation. It was feeling this suffocated loneliness that she decided she couldn't continue painting anymore.

And so, with an anxiety attack brimming, she quickly got up and rushed outside for fresh air. As soon as she was out of the mansion, the smell of the sea bombarded her nostril wrongly.

And so, that afternoon, for the second time since her pregnancy, Alana soiled the bushes with her vomit. All her breakfast emptied as she threw up in the shrubbery.

Something wasn't right. Although it was normal, since she was pregnant, her vomiting wasn't because of pregnancy. It was the smell of the sea. That combination of loneliness, despair, abandonment and heartbreak was truly enhanced with that smell at that moment.

It wreaked her body and ate at her soul until she couldn't stand being outside anymore. And thus, Alana returned inside to lock herself in the bedroom. She cried to herself...soulful and heart wrenching sobs until she tired and slept to escape the feeling. However, somehow even in dreams she found herself weeping constantly.

".., what ails you?" She heard a distance voice echoing around her subconscious.

"He doesn't love me?"

"...he loves you?"

"He never cared about me."

"...he cares about you?"

...

"He regrets meeting me."

...

"He will never return to me."

***

The crash landing wrought Alana from her slumber. Alana found she couldn't orient herself. It was dark, indicating she slept all day. Her stomach growled in hunger. However, it was the noise of glass shattering that alerted to her surrounding.

Fear registered in her spine and on instinct she grabbed what felt like a weapon in her hands. Alana hesitantly trekked to the living room of the mansion. All she could think of was the fact that she was alone in an island of nowhere. She had no contact of anyone and she didn't know how she could contact anyone outside of it. She also had no means of transport and so basically she was stranded there on her own.

Her steps were filled with caution when she suddenly switched the light on, bathing the whole room in light.

Lylas was sprawled unnaturally on the floor with sprinkles of blood pooling around him. Fear like no other pumped through Alana's heart as she ran toward him.

He had broke the vase a few steps away and had probably staggered before dropping to the floor. Alana used all her strength to sit him up. His eyes were close but the tightness in them told her he was still conscious.

The drops of blood on the floor were sourced from his mouth. He looked like he had suffering an internal injury that had rapture some blood vessel making him cough out blood.

Seeing this made her feel an agonising fear that made her spine tense up and Goosebumps pepper her skin.

"Lylas!" Alana shook him, her voice hoarse with emotion.

The tightness of his closed eyes increased and Alana touched his face, wincing when the temperature of his skin singed her hand.

Was it normal for a person to be this hot? But Lylas wasn't a person, nor normal. He was an immortal being with powers equalling, if not surpassing those in heaven. Surely nothing was capable of injuring him. Hadn't they constantly praised him so? And yet there was blood running down his mouth as evidence that something had hurt him.

Her brain whirred with possibilities, while fear trembled throughout her body.

"Lylas! What happened to you?" She didn't know why those pathetic tears were streaming down her face again.

Lylas groaned as he slowly pried his eyes open. He smiled when he saw her. A bloody smile that was.

"Can you get up? We need to get you to bed!" Alana urged him on, before he could pass out again. She wouldn't have the strength to drag his lifeless form to the bedroom.

Lylas nodded and leaned on her body, bearing all his weight unto her as he got up. Alana bore the weight, used all her strength to stagger with him to the bedroom.

Hazily he dropped onto the white sheets and Alana removed his jacket and shoes. His body was boiling hot. However, he seemed to be shuddering as if he was cold.

"How could you catch a fever of all things!" Alana reprimanded him as she wiped away those stupid tears falling from her eyes.

Alana was about to leave him to get an ice bucket and towel—to cool him down—when he grabbed her suddenly.

His eyes were in slits as he stared dazingly at her.

Alana didn't know why she couldn't stop crying. Those stubborn tears were relentless. The thought of him in pain broke her heart.

"Everything I do is for you... You know that right?" He spoke croakily.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed she leaned in him. "I know...I know it all."

Lylas had tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry...so sorry."

It was his chocked up tearful voice that worsened her state.

Alana shook her head, crying harder. "I'm the one whose sorry. I'm so stupid, I'm sorry."

And then he whispered, "...please come back to me."

That was when Alana realised he was in a stupor. He couldn't tell between dream and reality. She realised he had spoken all those things thinking what he was seeing was that woman, not Alana.

A pierced ache punctured through her heart. Alana's tears were now of heartbreak. She cried for herself. She felt sorry for herself. For loving someone that would never love her back. For giving her heart and life to someone that didn't really care for neither.

It hurt like hell, however, she told herself to bear it. To bear it for him and this child.