"Orla." He sighed, pondering if he should continue.
He was worried about her, about the baby. She barely slept, she was always awake, working, drawing, and building up plans to get her set on track.
"The baby," he muttered.
"The Doctor assured me our baby is fine. You don't have to worry about anything." She stopped walking and waited for Callan to catch up with her.
When he was in front of her, she chewed on her lips, dropping her gaze to her boots. Her hazel eyes fluttered, her mouth quivered, but no words were said.
Callan noticed her uneasiness and took her hands.
"What's wrong with you?"
She stood still, her feet rooted to the ground. Her brain was processing too many things at a time. Her sisters, her father, the trauma.
The aftermath of their planned visitation. She wasn't certain she wanted to do it. Even with Callan by her side, she was still very scared.
"I don't want to go." She blurted out, shaking her head. "My Father's house, I don't want to go with Sophia."
Callan drew her closer, stroking her hair. "But you said you would go because you want to know what the truth is."
"Yes, I did," she snapped, regretting her actions immediately.
She stared at Callan apologetically. Callan took the cue, he rubbed her back to calm her down.
"I know I did but thinking of it right now, I don't think I still want to go. I don't want to ruin Amelia's birthday with my presence."
"Ruin? You're not a disaster, Orla."
Callan grimaced, not pleased with her opinions about herself. For all he knew, she was the most beautiful woman with the gentlest soul.
Orla was perfect in every way, she was everything far from being a disaster.
"Callan. I have changed my mind."
"I will be there with you," it sounded like a promise. "No one will look down on you. No one will touch you and I won't let anyone berate you with scathing words. I will be there, Orla."
"Callan."
He held her when she let out sniffles, her red eyes already blurry with tears.
“Orla, I will let you lean on my shoulders and cry as much as you want to. I will let you get vulnerable because of them, but this once, just this once. I won't let you do that anymore." His voice was stern but not harsh.
"What?"
"I won't let you stay there weak, crying about what they've done to you in the past. You're no longer the Orla Sullivan they used to know. You are now Orla Barlowe, my wife."
The word 'Wife' earned a clear emphasis among other words.
Orla heaved a sigh. She felt a sense of belonging with Callan.
Her lips curled into a big smile, her heart softening and all negative thoughts evading into thin air.
"You have to go and face them and let them know that you're not scared to be there anymore. Face them boldly. Don't shy away. You give them the upper hand to ride you when you let fear set in."
Orla nodded, taking note of all the life's lectures he was giving her.
"We will go there together," he said with finality.
Callan's few words awaken something in her. Something that she lacked all her life, something she never thought she possessed until she met Callan.
Confidence.
She agreed, bobbing her throat. Then she thought. What if Callan was not there, what if Callan had never been in the picture? How would her life be right now?
What if Callan never changed from when they newly got married? What if he stayed wayward and even turned abusive? She would be depressed, maybe dead by now. She would never have gotten to chase her dreams of being an architect.
She would never have experienced what it meant to love and be truly loved. She would still live in her fears and would never dream of coming out of that terrible state of her life.
She wouldn't be Orla, she would never be the same.
Callan was the reason she smiled, the reason she held onto life, the reason she wanted to strive to be better, the reason she was brave.
The only reason she was looking forward to welcoming the little human that was growing in her womb. He was the reason for them all.
"I still wonder why you chose me instead of my sisters," she said, smiling at him.
Over time, she had teased him with the same question, but he had purposely ignored it.
No better one could equal Orla, that he was sure of.
"You wanted an exceptional wife."
"My mom wanted me to marry an exceptional wife, and I chose you. You're an exceptional woman, Orla. Everything and more."
"You made me exceptional," she whispered low enough for him not to grasp her words. "So, why me?" This was loud.
"The last time you asked me this question, I couldn't respond because I wasn't sure what my answer was then," he heaved her to his side, swinging a possessive arm around her waist.
"Have you found an answer yet?" She giggled in his arms, her eyes on his.
She monitored the swift movement of his eyes around her. The emotions that were buried within those eyes.
He held her so close, the effect so magnetic she knew his arm was the only place she could be in the world.
"I do," he said firmly. "Orla, I do have an answer now."
"What's it?"
"Orla—"
Callan's phone beeped loudly, interrupting his thoughts. His gaze dropped to the phone and back at Orla.
She squeezed her face, loathing that someone had chosen that time to ruin their perfect moment.
"Orla, I—"
The beeping was continuous now. He sighed, staring apologetically at his wife.
"I am sorry, I have to pick up this call. It's business,"
She nodded. "I understand."
Callan kissed her cheeks and let go of her, moving an inch away to attend the call from his business associates.
Orla stood still, watching her husband as he made professional calls, squeezing his face at intervals and yelling when necessary.
Her heart had refused to stop beating loudly. She knew what Callan wanted to tell her, she knew his answers even without uttering them and she just didn't know if she was ready to listen to the answers yet.
Her heart might explode if Callan said those words.
The words she had been dying to hear him say.