I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 377

**TITLE: The Attention 377**
**CONTENT: r 377 Bear with It**

The pain surged through me like a relentless tide, sharp and unyielding, forcing me to clench my teeth tightly to stifle any cries that threatened to escape my lips. Each wave felt like a cruel reminder of my condition, and I could feel the color draining from my face, replaced by a pallor that made me look ghostly. Sweat dripped down my brow, soaking my hair and skin as if I had just emerged from a steamy shower, the heat clinging to me in a suffocating embrace.

I was filled with uncertainty. Did this mean the babies were on their way? I had no prior experience to draw upon, and the due date loomed a month away, far too early for my liking. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

Once we arrived at the hospital, the doctors examined me with a flurry of activity. After what felt like an eternity, they finally delivered the news: it was a false alarm. The babies weren’t arriving just yet.

The doctor explained that the pain I was experiencing was simply due to the little ones being unusually active. “Nothing serious,” he assured me, though it felt anything but trivial as I lay there, suffering. It seemed the babies were having a grand time while I endured discomfort, a stark contrast to my own distress.

Exhaustion washed over me as I lay back on the hospital bed, my body weary from the tests and poking and prodding. At least, I thought, the babies had finally settled down, granting me a brief moment of peace.

Ashton stood beside me, his presence both comforting and tense. The top obstetrician, a man with an air of authority, addressed us. “Mr. Laurent, Mrs. Laurent,” he began, his tone professional yet reassuring, “there’s really no way to prevent this. In fact, this is a positive sign. It indicates that the babies are healthy. Mrs. Laurent’s regular exercise has contributed significantly.”

Ashton’s brow furrowed in concern. “Is there truly no other way to ease the pain?”

Watching me in agony had clearly shaken him to the core. The look on his face was one of sheer helplessness, as though he had been struck in the chest by an unseen force.

The doctor shook his head slowly, his expression grave. “At this stage, medication could potentially do more harm than good.”

“Doctor,” I interjected quickly, my voice trembling, “the babies come first. Please, do nothing that could jeopardize their health.”

Ashton nodded silently, his worry etched across his features, but I could sense the tension radiating from him.

The doctor continued, clearly feeling the weight of our anxiety. “As the babies grow, the abdominal wall thins, resulting in increased pressure and, subsequently, pain. Your babies are very active, which is normal and healthy. The best approach is to play soft music—something soothing—when they’re moving. It can help them settle down and sleep. Fortunately, babies only stay awake for short periods, so this won’t last long. Mrs. Laurent will have to bear with it during these episodes.”

I nodded, still drenched in sweat, my heart swelling with determination. For the sake of the babies, I would endure anything.

However, as I recalled that dreadful twisting pain, the sensation of my insides being squeezed, a wave of dread washed over me.

When the doctor departed, Ashton moved closer, enveloping me in his arms. He studied my face intently, concern etched into his features. “How do you feel now?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

After that unsettling incident, both Ashton and I remained on edge. We decided it would be safer for me to stay in the hospital rather than risk anything at home, just to be on the safe side.

The babies were incredibly active, their movements relentless. Each day brought a new wave of activity, and by the time they settled, I felt as though I had been through the fires of hell.

Ashton’s mood didn’t improve as he watched me suffer. He took out his frustration on the doctors, snapping at them whenever he had the chance, though it never seemed to change anything.

One particularly painful day, when words failed me, Ashton turned to the obstetrician, desperation creeping into his voice. “Can’t we deliver early?”

“Mr. Laurent,” the doctor replied cautiously, “the only way to deliver early would be through a caesarean section. Your wife is carrying twins, and the longer they can stay in the womb, the better for both of them.”

I lay on my side, clutching my belly as another wave of pain washed over me. I forced the words out, determined. “No caesarean.”

I would rather endure the agony if it meant giving the babies more time to grow strong inside me.

Ashton stood resolutely beside me, his gaze fierce as he glared at my stomach. “You two cause trouble again, and I’ll drag you out right now.”