*2 weeks later*

The house entrance door swings open and I hear Darius' angry voice from upstairs. "I'm fine! It's a superficial cut... Damn it!"

I rush downstairs to find Darius being supported by two pack men by each side, bleeding heavily from a seemingly deep cut over his left ribs. There are quite a few other bruises and marks on other parts of his uncovered torso.

"What happened?" my hands run to him.

"Lila," he looks at me, "it's nothing. You shouldn't stress." There is an authoritative undertone to his words and I know he is referring to the possible child I might be carrying. It's been two weeks...