Chapter 10: A Whisper in the Wind
Two months had passed since Ian and Avrielle had become husband and wife—or so they believed.
Their days slipped by like petals falling in slow motion—morning laughter, shared meals, river walks, and evenings filled with soft kisses under starlit skies. The dream they were living had only deepened its hold on them, and though neither could remember their lives before this village, their hearts felt full in a way they didn't know how to question.
But recently, Avrielle had begun to notice subtle shifts within herself.
She was constantly tired. The smell of fish stew made her nauseous. Her appetite had changed drastically—one moment she craved sweet palm honey and the next, sour pickled mangoes. Her body, once so lithe and energetic, now felt heavier and slower.
At first, she brushed it off as the heat, or perhaps the result of working too hard in the fields with the other women. Ian had noticed too—how she'd pause more often during their walks, her hand resting lightly on her stomach, her brows furrowed in thought.
"Are you okay, love?" he had asked her more than once.
And every time, she'd smile at him with a soft shake of her head. "Just tired, Ian. Maybe I need a little more rest."
But something deeper had been stirring inside her, something she couldn't ignore anymore.
---
That morning, Avrielle had gone to the herbalist hut, nestled behind the main square of the village. It was quiet, shaded by broad banana leaves and surrounded by a cluster of white flowering plants. Inside sat a wrinkled old woman, her eyes clouded with age but still sharper than anyone else's in the village.
Her name was Amma. No one knew her real name—just Amma.
Avrielle sat on the floor mat while Amma studied her with an almost unsettling calm.
"You've come at last," Amma said, her voice raspy but kind.
Avrielle blinked. "You… knew I would?"
Amma chuckled. "The earth always whispers its truths. And you've been glowing like the morning sun for weeks now. You carry life inside you, girl."
Avrielle froze, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears.
"Life…?" she whispered.
Amma leaned closer, her bony hand resting gently on Avrielle's wrist. "You're with child. A healthy one, too. The signs are all there. It's early, but not too early to feel it in your bones."
Avrielle felt her breath hitch, her fingers trembling in her lap.
A baby?
She hadn't dared even consider the possibility.
Yet now, the strange cravings, the dizziness, the constant exhaustion—everything made sense.
"I… I'm pregnant?" she asked again, just to hear it out loud.
Amma gave a toothy smile. "You're going to be a mother, my dear."
---
By the time Avrielle left the hut, the world looked different.
The birdsong felt sweeter, the breeze gentler, and the sun above her head brighter. Her hand instinctively pressed against her abdomen, a mix of awe and fear flooding her senses.
She walked slowly through the village, unsure whether she should share the news. It felt delicate, like a butterfly in her palm she was afraid might fly away if she spoke too soon.
But Amma—who wasted no time in believing that good news should travel—had already begun to speak with the other women.
"She's with child," the old woman declared to a cluster of midwives near the well, her voice like the chime of a bell.
In a matter of minutes, the whispers spread like wildfire.
By the time Avrielle returned home, she found Ian waiting at the doorway of their hut, wide-eyed and flushed. His shirt was half-buttoned, and he looked like he'd run all the way from the riverbank after hearing the news.
He stared at her for a moment, searching her face.
"Is it true?" he asked breathlessly.
Avrielle swallowed hard, her heart thudding. "I… I think it is."
For a moment, there was only silence between them. And then Ian laughed—pure, unfiltered joy spilling from him as he stepped forward and scooped her into his arms.
"A baby," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "We're having a baby."
Avrielle didn't realize she was crying until his thumb gently brushed away her tears. "Are you… happy?" she asked softly.
"Happy?" he echoed. "Avrielle, I didn't even know it was possible to feel this much."
He pulled her close again, burying his face in her neck. She could feel his heart pounding as wildly as hers.
"I love you," he murmured against her skin. "And now we're going to be a family."
---
The villagers celebrated as if it were a festival day.
The central square was decorated with garlands, and women sang songs of fertility and blessing. The men slaughtered a goat in honor of the unborn child, preparing a feast while the younger girls danced barefoot on the soft grass.
Ian and Avrielle were made to sit on a raised platform, both wrapped in ceremonial shawls as the villagers came forward to offer them blessings.
It was overwhelming. Avrielle clung to Ian's hand the whole time, her mind swirling with emotion.
She should have felt fear, perhaps—but all she could sense was a strange, powerful calm. As if this was exactly how life was meant to unfold.
She could feel the warmth of Ian's hand in hers, the way he looked at her with adoration, the villagers showering them with petals as if they were royalty.
Maybe this was their destiny.
Maybe this was home.
That night, as they lay in bed, the celebration echoing faintly in the distance, Ian placed a hand on her belly.
"We don't know if it's a boy or a girl," he said with a grin, "but I already know they'll have your eyes."
Avrielle laughed softly. "And your stubbornness."
He bent down and kissed her stomach gently, then rested his forehead there for a moment.
"I swear I'll protect both of you. Always."
"I know you will," she whispered, fingers running through his hair. "You already do."
They curled into each other, lulled by the lullabies of the village, hearts intertwined not just as lovers now—but as parents.
The dream had taken a new shape.
And though they had no memory of what they'd left behind, this new chapter was beginning to write itself with the softest strokes of hope.