Martinez slowly walked through the evening streets of Draun, fresh frost dancing in the orange twilight; each snowflake glowed like burning embers. Due to the snow, the usually bustling streets of the massive city were nearly vacant. The coming of winter had driven many aliens to seek warmer climates towards Renoural’s equator—that or to tuck in and out of the buildings like they were dodging gunfire.

The few Aliens freely moving about the city were the more hearty types or those who, due to life circumstances, had no choice but to remain active. Jurintik, Farun’se, and other mammalian aliens remained out; their fur, hair, and high metabolisms kept them warm in the low average temperature, reaching only four Celsius for the last two days, with no signs of warming up anytime soon.

Martinez could not help but remember one of the warzones from the far side of the Galaxy. Notably, it reminded Martinez of Kollar, specifically the city of Tenyalu.

The loneliness and isolation of working at the hospital, coupled with the nearly empty streets, was far too close of a feeling to how he and all the Marines felt at the time. But what forced him to reflect on what the GU deemed an acceptable sacrifice was the flittering snow, morbidly reflecting the embers and ashes that stifled through the city streets for months.

Tenyalu was not a warzone in which he and the Marines had been deployed to fight. That news initially did not go over well with the Marines, Dee, and Johnson, especially; those two had kill in their souls, and being told there should be no fighting was antithetical to their very existence.

They thought the entire deployment was a waste of time until Daniels, their platoon’s lieutenant before Raleigh came along, told them why.

Delta Company, First Marines were going to Tenyalu as a relief and assistance force—namely, humanitarian aid for the city’s people—not that any were left when they arrived.

The GU Army had just finished a long, drawn-out battle against the COS(concord of systems) Army and mercenary forces within the city and the entire system, but Tenyalu was the primary urban center the COS and wormed their way into.

Tenyalu offered the COS and their military forces many strategic benefits they would not give up. There, they could produce food, water, and ammunition with the megacity’s uncountable resources—and sentients to put to work.

The battle lasted nearly four standard years, about eight solar years. It cost both sides greatly, littering the cityscape with festering bodies and the carcasses of more war machines than Humanity had ever produced.

Over the few months before the point of no return, the local wildlife were more than happy to gnaw meat from the putrid flesh of dead and dying soldiers. They also had acquired a taste for the living sentients and had begun to hunt civilians and troops from both sides alike.

Neither side dared to attempt to retrieve their dead and wounded, knowing it was an almost assured death sentence to remain out of cover for more than a few seconds. Snipers, machine guns, and preplaced bombs were ready to end the life of anyone caught in the open too long.

The GU ultimately won the battle, but at a cost that even the Marines thought was too high—the GU command in charge of the Marines’ relief and recovery operation thought otherwise.

The GU onsite commander, a Keslati, a type of amorphous blob-like alien given shape through fluid dynamics and the armor they wore, had grown tired of seeing his troops be ripped to shreds by a near-peer enemy in a fortified and well-defended urban sprawl had authorized an air campaign that lasted only a matter of minutes.

He had ordered the GU Navy to drop an orbital strike, specifically an ADM-T, also known as an area denial munition, type thermal. The bomb was a combination munition that was deployed in two phases.

The first phase dropped hundreds of trillions of kilograms of Acetylene gas bonded to other chemicals to make it linger in the air; the other part of the first phase drop was a full-bore dusting of Thermate dust. Thermate, being thermite on steroids that had been juicing since the day it was born and had a set of parents who would only feed a champion.

That was just the primer of the munition. It laid the foundation for burning the area to the ground. The acetylene compound exploded with enough force to make the old Human MOAB look like a firecracker. While the Thermate would burn hot and ensure everything would become ashes within hours of the second strike.

The second phase came only a few minutes after the first had been deployed and ignited the hellfire cocktail in the air. The time gap was just long enough for the sentients on the ground to realize what was happening and know there was no escape.

Martinez had lingered on what it must have been like when the black dust and white gas covered the city streets as he moved hundreds of scorched corpses of women, children, soldiers, and uncountable, unidentifiable pieces of char for months.

How would the soldiers of the COS feel knowing that they were going to die? What would it have been like realizing the enemy had deemed their own citizens as acceptable casualties just to see you dead?

But he was especially haunted by the millions of civilians remaining in the city. They had done their best to scrape by and survive as two factions fought for dominance over them. The worst part was that Tenyalu was a GU city that the COS had attacked.

Martinez could not imagine what it would be like having to hold your loved ones and tell them it was all over. That they could not escape the sudden death falling down onto your home like ash.

The thoughts of desperation and despair came especially hard when he and a few Marines had found a family of Farun’se clinging to one another in a basement. The only ones that could be identified at all were the kids. The Mother and Father had shielded their kits just enough that an examiner could figure that much out.

It was something Martinez could not fully understand. The two parents gave it all to try to protect their kids. Did they know it was pointless? Or were they clinging to the desperate hope that one of the six kits they clutched would have survived? He was no father, hell other than his grandfather, who had died a few years before he joined the Human Navy; he had no family.

While Martinez was haunted by the sights and sounds of that city for a long time, having filed out more death certificates than he could count. Dee was affected worse. After that day, the former hull cracker could not even look at a kid, no matter the species. Even hearing a child’s laughter made him nearly shut down.

The last time Martinez saw Dee, he was better, but not much. Any interactions with kids still made him uncomfortable, and he did everything to avoid them.

He always claimed it was because he could not stop imagining his kid sister being on the receiving end, with him having failed. But that was his ghost to battle.

Martinez felt terrible for his friend and brother-in-arms, but the exact feeling was lost. He could not understand where Dee was coming from—any reassurance offered would have seemed fake, as if Martinez were pitying him. Dee was the type who buried his problems in humor and distractions anyway; he would not have talked to Martinez, Raliegh, or anyone, even though everyone saw how that mission affected him.

Martinez knew he was reaching and allowing the dark memories of his past to haunt him more than they already did; even in these near-empty streets, he was still checking every corner he passed.

Ignoring them ultimately was not an option for Martinez. Doing so would have felt like he was casting the tragedies of the operations into the void and denying that those sentients ever existed.

Martinez hoped he could escape his stop-loss calling so it would remain in his past. Lord knew he did not want to have to leave Lysa, nor did he wish to leave things with Shiksie like they were—calling their relationship in tatters after he beat her up and she tried to force herself on him an understatement.

Martinez wanted to find her, apologize, and see if there was any chance that they could salvage a semblance of cordiality. It’s too bad that Martinez had no idea how to find her; he was a corpsman, not an investigator, spy, LOST, or deep recon. Any of those spooks would know how to get started and likely would find her within days if his forlorn mentor was anywhere on the planet.

Martinez doubted the bridge could be rebuilt even if he could find her. Their relationship had likely gone the way of the dodo when he thrashed and abandoned her.

Some of Raleigh’s advice to the Marines after they had broken up with their girlfriends was something the Human had pondered many times over the last few weeks, understanding the gravity of those words now that it was likely tragically too late.

“Not everyone can be your friend; not everyone is your enemy. But you, as warfighters, have to be able to tell when something is a lost cause,” Martinez muttered as he rounded the corner to Lysa’s street.

When Martinez said that golden nugget of wisdom, it felt oddly hollow. The line was felt lacking without the man, myth, and legend delivering it.

Raleigh could speak and hold the entire room's attention with no effort. Something about that man was different; as far as Martinez and the Marines were concerned, he was the best officer they had.

He was the picture-perfect example of what all young officers should strive to be: patient, calm, collected, fit, wise well beyond his years, and above all, could lay the hate with the best of them.

Martinez could not deny that he yearned to fight alongside the Marines once again. But he knew that desire was another specter of his past. He was familiar with the Marines, combat, bloodshed, and gunpowder. As disturbing as it sounds, that was his life for nearly a decade, and the expectations and structure were comforting.

He thought of rejoining them whenever the world was too silent and let the call of the void ring loudly to him. The voice beckoned him to return, promising him more good times and the ability to save more of his brothers.

Once at Lysa’s door, Martinez turned the handle and opened it, knowing Lysa had left the front door unlocked when she was at home. Entering one another’s homes without knocking was typical for them. Lysa even had a keycard to enter Martinez’s apartment and was happy to come over and wait for his arrival home, as he was hers.

When Martinez opened the door, a wave of scents washed over him; his heart fluttered while his mouth watered, and all desire to return to the Marines faded away, having been left at the door like some kind of emotional vampire.

It would be there waiting for him to be alone again, but that was something Martinez was used to after so many years.

The invigorating smell of rendering fat and seared meat danced around the room, keeping time with a boiling pot of noodles.

The subtle yet rich odor of blood and cheese sauce rolled in as he stepped into the oh-so-inviting entryway and tosed his shoes next to Lysa’s black thigh-high boots.

Martinez had adapted quite well to Aivex food. If anything, he preferred it to what he made, especially after Nelya had spent several weeks working with Lysa and teaching her how to make food that the older Aivex declared suitable for her daughter to serve.

Lysa had improved in the variety and general quality of her cooking and had started cooking either dinner or breakfast for Martinez nearly daily, with him doing the same for her on the days she did not. Martinez just made sure to borrow Nelya’s recipes on Lysa’s datapad to make something more extravagant than spaghetti or tacos—not that Lysa hated his more Neanderthal-like cooking.

As Martinez rounded the corner, he spotted Lysa, the love of his life and the woman who had coaxed him out of more PTSD nightmares than he would have liked.

She stood before the stove and tended to a pan of steaming sauce. Unlike her usual black attire, Lysa wore a tight-fitting dress that was as yellow as the morning sun. The light orange pattern on it accentuated her hourglass figure well.

The dress reminded Martinez of something Nelya, Lysa’s mother, would wear. Martinez was weak to Lysa's usual gothic attire, but he could get used to her adding a bit more color to her repertoire.

Behind her was a table filled to the brim with a spread of food fit for a king. Martinez wondered if a platoon of hungry Marines could eat it all; even if they had several days and were working off a bender, it certainly would be a challenge.

The serving ware overflowed with cakes, pastries, meats, and cheeses. Surrounding all the food were carafes filled to the brim with what looked like beers, wines, juices, and blood—something Lysa loved, and Martinez tolerated drinking for her sake.

Something about the idea of drinking blood still skeeved him out a little bit. When it was cooked or in something, he did not care in the slightest, but having a mug of steaming O-positive was not something that he craved. Martinez had chalked it up to the texture. It was like a long, oily slick sliding down his throat, reminding him of an oyster that would not end.

The thing that made the Human raise an eyebrow was the centerpiece of this grand banquet. Atop an elevated stand with two glistening knives next to it was some kind of small mammal.

It was no larger than a raccoon, but it looked odd; it looked like it had two sets of rabbit hind legs and only traveled around via hopping. The rest of the beast looked like a robust combination of a possum face and a pig’s rotund physique, all wrapped in fur as white as virgin snow.

The animal writhed in bindings of soft satin and looked around frantically as though the world was about to end. To be fair to the little beast, it likely was going to; any layman could tell that much.

While the table was decadent and something Martinez had not expected, it was not what held his eye. Ever since their trip to the other side of the planet to visit Lysa’s parents, the Human has been unable to keep his eyes off his Ruh’ah.

It was as if gravity drew his eyes straight to Lysa.

Just seeing Lysa nearby, her heavenly smile, four ruby red eyes, and listening to the angelic sounds of her humming a song to herself infected his mind with feelings of comfort and care.

Martinez could not get enough of her and had even started noticing little details about her he had not. Her perfume seemed more potent, and even the little way she blushed around him, everything about Lysa seemed more prominent and impossible to ignore.

Despite all the strife life had thrown at him over the last year, Martinez knew he was where he belonged. No amount of bribery or promise could drag him away from his current station in life. That certainly included the call of the Marines he felt when life was too quiet.

“Hello, Ruh’ah,” Martinez smiled, walking up behind Lysa, gently grabbing her hips and resting his head on her shoulder.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I am glad you are home,” Lysa purred, leaning her head against his but not stopping her attentive care of the food. “I hope you are hungry.”

“I suppose I have to be considering the spread you made,” Martinez chuckled. “What is all of the food for? Neither of us eat that much.”

Lysa removed the food from the stove before twisting around in Martinez’s arms and holding him close, her plush bust pressing into him along with her muscular abs, giving her a unique feeling as a lover.

She looked into Martinez’s brown eyes and smiled brightly, taking the moment to enjoy his presence. Having Martinez nearby seemed to have been setting her mind alight lately; now that she knew why, it was all the more vibrant.

Lysa had read that they both had been incredibly clingy with one another because their hormones and bodies detected the changes they could not consciously understand.

It was something Lysa could not wait for more of. If Martinez was always nearby, she knew no aliens could harass her. It also meant she could have a human-shaped snack whenever she felt peckish.

This night was essential to Lysa; it was when she would announce to Martinez the reality of their situation, that as if by the grace of a god, they beat trillions to one odds and managed to conceive a child naturally—something that she did not expect to happen. Martinez likely would be just as shocked as she was once Pandora’s box was open.

However, they could discuss the future and how their life would go after dinner and the ceremony of hunting prey together and carving it as a pair. Lysa understood that if Martinez were an Aivex, he would fully understand what the michula on the plate with two knives meant. He would appreciate the significance of the event soon enough.

“I wished for us to enjoy the evening, and since we are so close, I wanted us to have one of the more traditional Aivex meals.” Lysa smiled, turning Martinez toward the michula bound on the table.

Martinez looked at the animal and paused for a moment. He had figured they would eat it. But was not expecting to have to kill and butcher the beast. It was not that he was squeamish about the idea of killing something; he had killed dozens, if not hundreds, of sapients at this point and was more than willing to go hunting with Kyroll. Martinez just never expected to have to kill something at his girlfriend’s home.

“Can I go get cleaned up first?” Martinez asked, still wearing his scrubs and having not showered after a hectic day at the hospital.

“Of course,” Lysa smiled. “I still have some last-minute setup anyway.”

“Alright, I will be right back,” Martinez replied, leaning in and kissing Lysa’s plush lips.

Without any hesitation in her soul, Lysa returned the gesture, grabbing Maritnez’s head and deepening the kiss, letting her tongue writhe with his, both being careful not to cut themselves on her razor-sharp teeth. Their heart rates increased, and they held the kiss as long as their burning lungs would allow.

As the kiss broke, Martinez lingered there, holding Lysa close, reveling in her existence. He had remained long enough that Lysa had to remind him to shower and change, or the food would get cold. And in this case, tease him that the michula would run away.

The playful threat of missing out on whatever Lysa had planned for the beast was enough to light a fire under his ass and have Martinez practically stripping before entering the bathroom.

It did not take Martinez long to return from showering and changing into a simple set of grey sweatpants and a tank top. Lysa particularly enjoyed it when Martinez wore revealing clothing; When he did, she could drink blood from his shoulder unhindered.

It also put his extensive scars on display, something she found attractive, despite over half of his body being scar tissue from wounds: gunshots, knives, teeth, and burns were the majority, but a few were from nightmarish rashes and accidents.

He and Lysa lived half-time at one another’s houses and had ensured both were prepared for several days at the other's home.

As such, he had any toiletries he needed and several sets of clothes for any occasion. But they were primarily clothes for lounging around the house and making a lazy run to the side shop for some Hemo-packs or candy.

Once Martinez rejoined Lysa near the table, she was practically glowing while handing Martinez the knife to butcher and kill the michula. “I hope you are ready,” Lysa purred, closing Martinez’s hand around the handle.

“As ready as I can be,” Martinez replied, turning toward the table and gripping the knife.

The next ten minutes were surreal for Martinez. Lysa gently guided Martinez through how one humanely dispatches the small animal and then the process of skinning and removing organs. She would hold his hand and show him how to draw the blade a few times before letting him try it independently.

Overall, Martinez did a decent job; he would have given himself a solid seven out of ten. Lysa, on the other hand, was in her element. She regularly butchered and processed meat for them; this was just the first time she had killed the animal since they started dating.

Martinez was not disturbed during Lysa's odd ritual. With his experience regularly being wrist-deep in the guts of aliens, none of the blood or viscera bothered him. It was just another day at the office for the experienced Corpsman.

The only part of it that somewhat bothered him was the initial kill of the creature. Lysa was an alien, but with how she acted and looked nearly human at times, Martinez regularly overlooked that aspect of her.

When Lysa bit into the creature's neck, Martinez was firmly reminded of her alien-vampire nature.

She bit into the back of the animal’s neck, crushing its spine in one swift action While moaning the same way she did when sneaking some of Martinez's chocolate stash.

The little creature screamed and flailed for several seconds as it entirely passed, blood pouring onto Lysa's cleavage.

The cries were absolutely bone-chilling, sounding like a nightmarish combination of a baby crying for its mother and a rat hiding from a cat playing with its food.

"Here, let me get that," Martinez chuckled, wiping the blood off Lysa's cheek and chest.

Lysa chuckled. Martinez's heart rate skyrocketed as she teased him by wiggling her chest as he cleaned her. She was beyond glad Martinez was her Ruh'ah; many sentients would be disgusted by the blood and her nonchalant attitude about gore, but he accepted it as part of her.

The rest of the meal was about as regular as it could be despite both Lysa and Martinez eating the warm raw meat of the animal and gorging themselves on as much food as possible.

While eating more food than they believed possible, Lysa and Martinez chatted about their day like any other night.

Martinez recapped the classes he covered the last week and the tests he had coming up. Martinez avoided the topic of his stop loss for the time being. Enjoying dinner with Lysa was more important for now.

That uncomfortable conversation could be broached before dinner. Undoubtedly, Lysa would cry if he was too blunt with the delivery and did not assure her that he would ask Chloe about getting out of his orders.

Lysa surprised Martinez with the topic she wished to discuss while stuffing their faces with food. Moving in together. She was curious about what he thought about the layout of her house and what he would change.

The Human could not deny that the thought of possibly moving in had occurred to him, but with the news of him being recalled via stoploss, he had no idea where his life would go. Martinez was about to be ripped away from her and all the friends he had made here on Draun, with no guarantee that he would ever return.

Martinez told her what changes he would like to make: using his silk bedsheets and getting a coffee table near the davenport.

Lysa gleefully agreed to all his suggestions and added that they would need to make space for all the Human knick-knacks Dr. Harnsis purchased for him; she was especially keen on putting the beanbag chairs in the living room. That last request should have been expected, as Lysa and he regularly snuggled for hours on them.

At this point in life, and with all his interactions with aliens, Martinez had learned his lesson about not being forthright about himself and what was happening. Lysa, of all people, especially, needed to know that he would be leaving and might not return.

With Lysa giddily planning how blissful moving in together would be, Martinez could no longer hold his tongue. Lysa had to know the reality of his situation.

“Hey, Lysa— I need to talk with you about something,” Martinez muttered. The words felt like acid in his mouth, as if just starting such a horrible conversation was scaring him.

“What a coincidence. I also have something I must inform you of,” Lysa gushed, leaning against Martinez and coiling her arm against his.

Martinez already felt a weight bearing down on him when he thought about breaking the horrible news to Lysa. Now, with her warm smile and earnest look of anticipation for what he had to say bearing down on him, the Human felt as if a trillion tons of soft feathers were crushing him.

“So, I am unable to think of any other way to tell you this other than to just plainly say it,” Lysa replied before she paused, took a steadying breath, and smashed Martinez’s entire sense of how the universe and his life would go.

“I am pregnant,” Lysa breemed, the words flowing off her tongue as smoothly as slick butter, having practiced the line multiple times over the last few hours.

At the same time, she produced the pregnancy test she had saved and placed it in Martinez’s palm. As the small piece of plastic left his hand, Lysa blushed like a kid caught in a lie, having not been able to keep the joyous news from her love.

“What?” Martinez breathed, looking down at the test.

The words did register with Martinez, but their inconceivability made understanding them impossible. Lysa might as well have spoken Aviex or any of the million alien languages Martinez could not comprehend.

“Henry, I'm pregnant,” Lysa purred, hugging Martinez closer.

Martinez looked at the test, then back to Lysa several times as his hands began to tremble like he was ambushed on a distant battlefield. His body reacted, readying to fight the unknown, the unconceivable, and what threatened him. Despite no threat or wish for harm, his body chose the most base reaction possible.

This was impossible; they were different species and should not be able to crossbreed naturally. Only a few dozen species could do that out of thousands documented by the GU and COS.

Each shallow breath He took lasted a million years. Each speedy draw-in ripped through the Human's innards like a beast burrowing through the ground, shoving everything away with reckless abandon.

Lysa watched as Martinez stared at the test and clenched it in his hand, the plastic casing cracking slightly.

“I planned this meal, hoping to celebrate the good news,” Lysa said awkwardly, unsure what Martinez was thinking.

She had an idyllic picture in her head of how this would go; Martinez would have swept her up in his arms, kissed her, and rejoiced by her side before dragging her to the bedroom for another night of fiery passion between them.

“How?” Martinez muttered, his mind struggling to grasp the situation.

The news of Lysa being pregnant pulled his heart and sull into the most potent bliss of heaven and dragged him down to the fiery depths of hell at the same time—stretching his consciousness and ability to process reality to their absolute limits.

“What do you mean how?” Lysa asked, confused.

It should be evident to Martinez how this happened. They both were under the impression it could not happen, so they took no steps to ensure it would not: condoms, birth control, etc. It was something they never saw as necessary.

“I—I don’t understand. How can we—how could it be mine?” Martinez asked, looking at Lysa in a near panic.

Lysa, usually a pragmatic individual, has had massive mood swings lately. Now that she understands that it is due to her pregnancy did not matter.

Lysa grabbed the how could it be mine, part of Martinez's statement and ran with it.

“What the hell do you mean!” Lysa growled, shooting up to a standing position and looming over Martinez, her fangs fully bared. “Are you asking if I cheated on you? Why would I ever do anything like that to you!?”

Martinez slid his chair back, trying to separate himself slightly from Lysa. It was not that he thought she would lash out; for him, creating space from anyone angry at him was just an automatic response.

Doing so assured that he could retaliate and fight back with all he had. In this case, his weapons were words because hitting Lysa or doing anything along those lines was something he would never think of doing.

“No, no, no,” Martinez said frantically, understanding how that statement was him opening his mouth and inserting his foot. “I did not mean it like that,”

“Then what did you mean?” Lysa sniffled, pointing her black nail at Martinez’s throat like a knife waiting to rend flesh from bone.

“I—I—I just don't understand how it could happen,” Martinez admitted. "I thought this could not happen."

“This is supposed to be happy–but you—you are acting like I am lying,” Lysa nearly bawled, pointing at the food with both hands. "I made all of this to celebrate, and you say I'm---"

Martinez stood and grabbed Lysa, pulling her tight. She initially tried to push away, yelling at him, calling Maritnez an ass, and saying he thinks she is a lying whore. He, however, showed no sign of letting up.

Martinez cradled her tightly in his arms, holding his faith in her and himself. They had trumped her father's beliefs and now had defied the odds of the universe, having given life to something.

Martinez knew Lysa would not betray him by cheating. He had such an impossible combination of emotions racking him that he could not process the conversation as quickly as Lysa could. But as he held her, Lysa cried, releasing all of her own pent-up emotions, and laid her soul to bear for Martinez to see.

“I—I wanted this to be special,” She sobbed into his shoulder. “But you—I—ruined it. I’m so sorry.”

Lysa soaked his shoulder as she cried out for forgiveness for not telling him right away and admitting she wanted to make the meal for them like Aviex traditionally does.

“You did not ruin anything,” Martinez assured, wiping a tear from her eyes.

His words did not help the situation at all. It only made Lysa begin a diatribe about the nature of the meal and how it was meant to signify that they had enough resources to conceive and that they hunted something together.

From what Martinez could piece together through sniffles, Lysa had held this information all day, having told no one yet. Namely, because she thought he should know first.

“I just was not expecting this—” Martinez admitted, kissing Lysa's head.

Lysa nodded, clutching to Martinez while he rubbed her back gently. As they held one another, excitement, horror, jubilation, and shock filled the room and overflowed from them.

Martinez laid his head on her shoulder, reverting to a theme he had built into himself, accepting reality and moving on.

He could not change the reality before him; all Martinez could do was approach it by striving to be a rock for Lysa. His feelings be damned, and the news he would break to her likewise could go to hell.

Martinez would break the news to her once he spoke to Chloe and had a plan of attack for himself. With this news, he had to avoid stop loss, no matter the cost to himself.

Martinez was fully ready to crawl through kilometers of shattered glass if it meant that Lysa was supported at the end. Martinez would take absolute ownership of the situation. Self-sacrifice would be his modus Operandi to a fault for her.

“Would you be okay with going to a clinic? Not to say I’m the father—but to make sure you will be alright?” Martinez questioned.

With this situation unprecedented for Human and Aviex relationships, Martinez wanted to take no chances, so getting Lysa in to see one of the GU geneticists was the only way to ensure both their child and she could be happy and safe.

Lysa nodded, still not happy with Martinez’s reaction to the news. “I want to tell Mom,”

“Of course,” Martinez replied. "Do you want to call her while I clean up?"

"I will," Lysa agreed. "what did you wish to tell me about?"

"Don't worry about it," Martinez replied, "We can talk about it another time. I don't want to spoil the night any more than I have."

"Very well," Lysa replied, turning around and walking toward the door to call Nelya privately.

Martinez did not mind that Lysa was doing that. This scenario was so out of the weeds that even Neyla would likely be surprised. It would not be unwelcome news with how ferocious Lysa's mother was about them having children.

Before she departed, Lysa looked over he shoulder. "Ruh'ah, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just--"

"Don't worry about it," Martinez waived while gathering the leftovers. "I should have said something different, especially with everything going on."

Lysa elegantly nodded and closed the door as she stepped onto the porch, leaving Martinez to pick up his emotions and try to formulate a path forward. The rest of the night was a blur for Martinez. His mind still struggling to accept everything.

The last thought Martinez had that night before he put on a solid front for Lysa and they went to bed was a deep fear of what Chloe would ask of him---knowing he would be desperate beyond what she knew already.