CHAPTER 370: CHAPTER 370 GROUNDED

I slowly came to, blinking my eyes open.

‘How are you feeling?’ A voice cut through the silence, making me jump.

I saw it was Ashton and quickly tried to sit up. But I moved too fast, and a throbbing pain shot through my head.

Ashton stepped forward. ‘Lie back down.’

I waited for the pain to pass. ‘What are you doing here? Where am I?’

The memory of what happened before I lost consciousness flooded back, and I gasped, ‘Daniel?’

‘It took you that long to realise?’ Ashton’s tone was reproachful. ‘I thought you’d cut ties with that man. Why did you go to see him?’

I felt sheepish. ‘Well, I only went because he said he had something important to tell me about the kidnapping. I never imagined...’ I never thought Daniel would turn on me like that.

My explanation seemed to ease his anger a little, but it hadn’t completely vanished. His face was still stern as he helped me out of bed.

On the way home from the hospital, I asked, ‘Is the baby alright?’

‘So you do remember to care about the baby? You’re pregnant, yet instead of resting at home, you run off alone to meet a man who holds a grudge against you. What were you thinking? ...’

It was the first time Ashton had been so long-winded, scolding me non-stop. I leaned over and cut him off by pressing my lips to his.

After a long moment, our lips parted, and I said, ‘Alright, I know I was wrong. Stop lecturing me.’

‘You think that’s enough to make me forgive you?’

I grinned. ‘Want another one?’

He snorted again, but the irritation and anger on his face had faded quite a bit.

***

Needless to say, I was grounded once I got home, and couldn’t even go out to fetch the paper, let alone wander off on my own.

This went on for over a week, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

One Tuesday morning, I woke up long after the sun was high, and Ashton had already left, as usual.

I rubbed my aching lower back, cursing the man for keeping me awake for hours last night.

After I’d washed and changed, I went downstairs and had brunch. Once I was done, I headed back upstairs, and it struck me that I’d been leading the life of a prize pig—eat, sleep, repeat.

‘I can’t keep living like this,’ I decided. It was time for a change.

The next morning, over breakfast with Ashton, I glanced at the spread on the table. Out of nowhere, a thought popped into my head: ‘If it’s a girl, we should call her Maple.’

To my surprise, Ashton actually considered it seriously. ‘Maple’s not a bad name,’ he said at last.

I burst out laughing. It was just a spur-of-the-moment idea, prompted by the maple syrup on the table, and I knew it was silly. I’d been fully expecting Ashton to shoot it down.

It wasn’t until we’d finished breakfast and Ashton was about to leave that it seemed to dawn on him. ‘Wait, no,’ he said, suddenly serious.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘We can’t name the baby Maple.’

‘But it’s a lovely name!’ I protested.

‘What if it’s a boy?’ he countered.

He had a point. ‘Then we’ll come up with a boy’s name,’ I said. Then I finally broached the subject, ‘I need to go to the studio. Can you give me a ride?’

‘You’re still planning to work?’ Ashton’s brows knitted together in disapproval.

‘Of course I am. And don’t tell me I can work from home. If I stay home any longer I’d go mad. That can’t be good for the baby.’

Ashton clearly wanted to say no, but once I mentioned the baby, he bit back his words. His face was stormy, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I sighed and took his hand. ‘Don’t worry. Lots of women work while they’re pregnant. I’m healthy, and I’ll be careful.’

But Ashton’s expression remained grim.

I shook off his hand in frustration. ‘I can’t just be stuck indoors all day. If I have to stay home for the entire duration of the pregnancy, that’s practically a whole year without leaving the house. That’s not pregnancy. That’s a prison sentence.’

‘Fine,’ he finally grumbled.

I lit up. ‘So you agree?’

‘But there are conditions,’ he said sternly.

‘Of course. Tell me.’

‘First, you only go to the studio. No other outings unless I’m with you.’

I thought about it; that seemed manageable. ‘Alright, I can do that.’

‘Second, when you’re at the studio, no unnecessary moving around like climbing on ladders. No using sharp tools for cutting jewellery, and no eating out for lunch. I’ll have meals delivered to you.’

I considered it and nodded again. That was fine. ‘Anything else?’ I asked.