The Billionaire’s Pretend Fiancée

Sofie’s POV

“Thanks a lot, doctor.” I said as my obstetrician handed me a packet of vitamins.

She just smiled and waved me off. “Please, Sofie. When will you stop addressing me so formally? Please call me Kylie.”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Alright, Miss Kylie.” I replied, mirroring her smile.

She just shook her head and sighed. “You are insufferable. By the way, did my brother tell you when he’s coming over today?”

“He told me he has work throughout today but he’d surely come by tomorrow.” I supplied, to which she nodded.

“How are you holding up by the way? I can’t even imagine how hard everything must be right now for you.” She said, throwing me a sympathetic stare.

I shrugged, in a bid to seem strong to her. “I’m holding up well. Thanks for your concern, Miss Kylie.”

“No problem, Sofie. Also, don’t forget that if you need anything, I mean anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

“Okay.” I whispered as tears clogged my throat, making it impossible for me to speak properly.

“Alright then, Sofie. Have a nice day.” She smiled, patting my back.

I inwardly scoffed at the possibility of the day being nice to me, but I smiled back at the doctor.

“Yes, I will. You too.” I said, and exited her office.

I stood outside her office for a few minutes to properly gather myself before I went to see Roman.

It had been a month since everything happened, and he was still yet to show the tiniest signs of waking up.

Thankfully, he was moved to a private room last week since his external wounds had almost healed up.

Although the doctors couldn’t say it to my face, I knew they were gradually starting to lose hope that Roman would ever wake up.

Some days ago, I overheard two of the doctors conversing with each other while I was in the bathroom. They said that Roman’s brain signals were gradually diminishing, and it was a matter of time before he was declared brain dead.

They probably thought I had gone home because they didn’t even have the initiative to speak in hushed tones.

I wasn’t going to allow their negativity get through to me because I knew my Roman would come back to me.

He’d come back to our baby and I.

With a sigh, I made a right turn to Roman’s room as I balled my sweaty hands into fists, to suppress the nervous trembling.

“Miss Sofie, you are here again today.” One of the two doctors I had overheard that day said, as I stepped into the room.

I repressed the urge to scoff and tell him to fuck off by nodding wordlessly as I made my way over to Roman’s bed.

Everytime I laid my eyes on Roman’s comatose form, my heart always lurched with guilt.

Multiple beeping machines were connected to him, he had a nasal cannula inserted into his nostrils, his forehead was bandaged, and he also had multiple healed cuts all over his face.

I still couldn’t bring myself to see his gunshot wounds, so I didn’t know what they looked like. But based on what a kind nurse told me yesterday, they were also healing rapidly without complication.

“Hi, my love.” I whispered, before kissing his deathly pale lips.

The doctor cleared his throat but I ignored him as I tenderly stroked Roman’s forehead.

“Erm, Miss Diaz. I’ll be in my office if you need me for anything. Please excuse me.” He rambled out, before scurrying out of the room.

I hissed at the shut door, before averting my focus back on Roman.

I took his uncannulated hand into mine as I began a one-sided conversation with him. “I miss you, Roman. I really do. I haven’t had the time to sit with you like this, and tell you everything on my mind. But now, I do.”

I sniffled as tears rolled down my cheeks. “Everyone thinks you will leave the baby and I but I know you won’t. Why? Because you’re everything but a coward. You won’t leave us like this, would you?”

“I have so much to say to you but I don’t even know where to begin from.” I paused to weep for a moment before continuing.

“I just want you to open those eyes, Roman. Please just do it for us. I’ve been acting strong for the past couple of weeks but I can’t anymore. I-I just can’t. It feels as if there’s a huge load pressing down on my chest. It’s so hard to breathe properly without you here, my love.” I whispered, gazing up at his motionless form.

I sighed, and wiped the tears off my face. “I shouldn’t be doing this here. The doctors told me to surround you with lively and cheerful stuff but I can’t even do that. I’m so worthless.”

Silence enveloped the room as I resumed stroking Roman’s hand.

I gazed down at my still-flat belly, and a smile curved my lips. “By the way, I had an appointment for a checkup today. I am now two months gone, and about to enter the second trimester. I really hope you’ll accompany me to my next appointment.”

The door was knocked, and I sighed before answering reluctantly. “Come in.”

A nurse walked in pushing a trolley, with a kind smile.

“Good day, Miss Diaz. It’s time for his daily clean up.”

“Can I clean him instead today? I’ve watched you do it several times, and I’m sure I can wing it.” I said.

The nurse stopped in her steps, and stared at me. I could tell that she was clearly hesitant to oblige my request.

“You can stay and guide me if I’m not doing it right.” I negotiated which made her sigh.

“Very well then. You can do it. I’ll go get his medication.” She muttered, before leaving the room.

I dipped the face towel on the trolley into a bowl of water, and used it to gently wipe his face, his neck, his hands, his legs and his feet.

I cleaned him thrice and in about thirty minutes, I was done.

Moments later, the nurse returned with his medication. She gave me an impressed look as she assessed Roman.

“You did a great job of cleaning him. One would think a professional nurse did it.” She said, to which I smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Afterward, she administered the medication to him and left.

I spent the night uncomfortably snuggled next to him, with my head placed on his chest to hear the soft rising and falling rhythm of his heart, and reassure myself that he was still very much alive.

Those doctors were just pathological liars.