Inside the villa, the music from the garden faded into muffled echoes. Denver's footsteps echoed against the tiled floor as he called out, his voice rising with urgency.
"Kira? Kira!"
From the hallway, Kira stepped in, just having returned from a quiet errand. Her hair was still damp from the evening breeze, her expression calm—until she saw her husband rushing toward her like a man who'd just won the lottery.
"There you are!" Denver said, breathless. "Are you—are you pregnant?"
Kira froze. "What?"
Denver's eyes were wide, hopeful. "Is it true? Are we having a baby?"
Kira blinked, stunned. "Where did you hear that?"
"I just heard it from Marina," he said, grinning. "She asked me about it, and I thought—maybe you told her first. Maybe you were planning a surprise."
He reached for her hands, eyes shining. "Because if that's the case, I'm surprised. And I'm happy. Kira, this is the best news. We've been married three years. I've dreamed of this."
Kira's lips parted, but no words came out.
Her heart thudded in her chest. How did Marina know? Did someone see her at the clinic?
She had just secured the appointment—just finalized the schedule. She hadn't told a soul.
And now Denver was standing here, glowing with joy, holding her hands like they were about to step into a new chapter.
"Kira?" he asked gently. "Is it true?"
She swallowed hard. "Where exactly did you hear it?"
"Marina," Denver said, still smiling. "She asked me, and I thought—maybe she found out from you. Or maybe she just noticed. You've been glowing lately."
Kira's breath caught.
Denver stepped back, already pulling out his phone. "We should schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow. No—wait. I'll call now. I know someone. We'll get you checked, make sure everything's okay."
He turned away, dialing, his voice full of excitement.
Kira stood frozen, biting her fingers, panic rising in her throat.
She hadn't told him.
She hadn't planned to.
And the baby wasn't his.
Morning sunlight spilled gently into the villa's kitchen, casting soft gold across the counters. Denver, humming to himself, flipped eggs with the confidence of a man who'd just won the lottery. The smell of garlic rice and brewed coffee filled the air.
He had woken early, too excited to sleep. His wife was pregnant. After three years of marriage, the news felt like a miracle.
Marina entered the kitchen, still in her robe, and smiled at the sight of her cousin cooking.
"You're glowing," she teased.
Denver grinned. "I'm going to be a dad. I want her to wake up to something warm."
Marina poured herself coffee. "She's lucky. You're practically floating."
In the garden, Theo sat quietly with his tablet, sipping tea. He glanced up as Asha emerged from the villa, leash in hand, calling softly for Mochi.
The little dog bounded toward her, tail wagging. Asha crouched, clipped the leash, and slid her mask down slightly to breathe in the morning air.
Her brows furrowed.
She glanced toward Theo, who was watching her—not with suspicion, but with quiet curiosity. The strange woman with the strange habits. Always sniffing. Always watching.
Asha gave a polite nod and walked off with Mochi, her thoughts already spinning.
Back inside, the family doctor arrived not long after. Everyone gathered in the living room—Denver, Marina, Theo, and Kira, who sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap.
The doctor greeted them warmly and led Kira to the guest room for the checkup.
Denver paced the hallway, practically vibrating with anticipation.
When the doctor returned, his smile was gentle. "She's three months along. Everything looks healthy so far."
Denver's face lit up. "Three months? That's amazing. Thank you, Doc. Anything I should be careful about?"
The doctor nodded. "Just the usual—rest, nutrition, no stress. I'll send over a prenatal schedule."
Marina clapped her hands. "I'm going to have a niece or nephew to tease"
Theo gave a quiet nod, his expression unreadable.
Kira sat on the edge of the couch, pinching her fingers beneath the throw pillow.
Three months.
She hadn't told anyone.
She hadn't planned to.
And Denver—so full of joy—was already making plans.
She smiled faintly, but her mind was racing.
What if he found out?
What if someone traced the timeline?
She had to act. She had to change the appointment. Tonight.
She would get rid of it—
Before the truth caught up.
Asha's chest felt tight.
She had taken Mochi out for a walk, letting the little dog sniff around the garden path. As she bent down to adjust the leash, she slid her mask down slightly—just for a breath of fresh air.
And there it was.
The scent.
From Kira.
Asha sat alone. Mochi curled beside her, sensing her unease.
She closed her eyes.
And the scent returned—not from the present, but from years ago. She had smelled it once before.
Back home, when she was younger. Her sister Ava had been distant, quieter than usual. Asha hadn't understood it then. All she knew was that something hung in the air—a haunting scent, like something small and fragile trying not to be noticed.
She had asked around.
"Is anyone sick?" she'd whispered to her grandfather.
"No," her grandfather had said, puzzled.
She'd asked her aunt, her cousin, even the neighbor who sold herbal oils.
No one was sick.
But the scent lingered.
Until one day, it was gone.
And that evening, she saw her grandfather in the yard—his hand raised, his voice sharp.Ava stood there, trembling.
It came out in pieces. That Ava had been pregnant. That she had aborted the child. That she had been too afraid to tell anyone, especially their grandfather.
Asha had watched, frozen, as the truth unraveled.
She hadn't understood the scent then.
But now—she did.
And Kira carried that same scent.
It was stronger now. Sharper. Not the scent of joy or new life. It was something else. Something fading. Something afraid.
Asha's heart clenched.
It was undeniable. The small life inside Kira was in danger. Not from illness. Not from nature.
From choice.
Asha stood up, Mochi tugging gently at the leash. Her mind raced.
Should she warn Denver?
Would he even believe her—that she could sense someone's death through scent? That she could smell the fear of a child who hadn't even seen the light yet.
She doubted it.
But then—like a light flicking on—Marina.
Of course. Marina would believe her.
But was Asha ready for the consequences of intervening?
She knew what it meant—to step into someone's life and death. The excruciating pain she would receive as punishment for intervening.
Still, she had to try and not let the same thing happen again.
She waited for a moment when Marina was alone, lingering near the veranda with a book in hand. But Theo was there too, speaking softly.
"Grandfather's looking for you," he said. "He wants to talk about the business."
Marina frowned and then nodded. "I'll call him later."
Theo glanced toward Asha, who was hovering nearby, pretending to check Mochi's collar.
He leaned in to Marina. "That weird girl's lurking again."
Marina chuckled. "She's not weird. She's just… observant."
Theo shrugged. "I'm going back to my room." He walked off, leaving Marina alone at last.
Asha took a breath, steadying herself. Then she stepped forward.
"Marina," she said quietly. "I need to talk to you. It's… important."
Marina looked up, sensing the weight in Asha's voice. She closed her book.
"I'm listening."
Asha hesitated, then said quietly, "about Kira"
Marina's expression shifted—just slightly.
Asha's voice was low, steady. "The baby. It's in danger."
For a moment, Marina said nothing. Then she slowly set her book aside. "I see," she said.
She didn't ask how Asha knew.
Marina watched Asha carefully, sensing the tension in her voice—the way her fingers gripped Mochi's leash just a little too tightly.
Asha took a breath. "I know it's hard to believe," she said softly. "But it's also hard to explain."
Marina didn't press. She simply nodded, her voice low and concerned. "Is it alright for you to do this?"
Asha hesitated, then nodded. She wasn't good at lying—but she didn't have the words to say what it would cost her.
She turned to leave, Mochi trotting beside her.
But halfway down the veranda, she paused and turned back.
"I—can I have a separate room tonight?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to share with my coworkers. Not while…" She couldn't finish.
Marina's expression softened. "Of course."
She picked up the phone, calling the front desk.
"One room, please," she said. "For Miss Asha. Tonight."
She hung up, then looked out toward the villa—where Kira sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, and Denver was still beaming, talking about vitamins and nursery colors.
And Marina's smile faded.