[Klayko]

She was saying one too many things for him to really fathom. First she announced that he was carrying seventeen. He asked her again for confirmation and she said it once more. Not one. Not two. Somehow and some way, someone who seemingly had it out for him determined seventeen was a good number. Blame it on being healthy down below or maybe Carl was just that fruitful, but Maor could not wrap his mind around seventeen because already, his head was picturing all those crying voices and even imagining himself apparently giving birth. He thought that was the bad news.

The next news stung just as much. He only had two weeks before he completely swelled out and apparently, he would be stuck like that for nine months. Again, his mind pictured being weighed down by these...leeches...More than ever, Maor just wanted one thing, well maybe two: For this nightmare to be over with and to just go home.

“I’m not leaving Ethan,” Maor said, pulling his shirt down and getting off from the bed. He wasn’t exactly in a hungry mood, though Camilla may say something along the lines that now more than ever, he needed to eat. He would ignore it for now, tapping on the pillow Ethan had his head under. “Ethan? It’s me...”