They were engaged. They would soon be married—they would have to, lest her bump start showing earlier than expected, because then people would know. If Mr. Fisk was true to his words, he might still marry her after the scandal hit the tabloid, but everyone would think of her as nothing more than a poor woman who seduced a coworker, only to force him into an unhappy marriage.
And it would be an unhappy marriage, at least at first. There might be no hatred between Mr. Fisk and herself, but there might be resentment on his end down the line; when he found a woman he truly wished to marry, or when he held the child—the one who would look nothing like him, yet still carry his name—in his arms for the first time. If it was a boy, it would be his firstborn; it would inherit what he had, unless he proved so cruel to pass it on to a second-born—or, if they never shared the marriage bed, a nephew.
She would also have Zelda, which could be catastrophic if she became aggravated by the news. Zelda was a loyal, hardworking woman... but she could be bitter sometimes. If she took personal offense to not knowing of the match before it was announced to the family, Dionisia might gain a sister but lose a friend.
"I never really envisioned my future, if I'm honest," she said, made uneasy by how true it was. Tomorrow was never certain; every day was taken one-by-one. Healing itself was rarely dangerous for the mediwitich, but there was always the risk of dangerous substances or suspects nearby.
The touch of his hand made her shiver. It was doubtful that their marriage would be smooth; they hardly knew each other, nor did she feel any true affection towards him beyond the familial security that the Fisks had always offered her. "We'll have to make the best out of it," she said softly, rising to her feet. "I trust you."
And it would be an unhappy marriage, at least at first. There might be no hatred between Mr. Fisk and herself, but there might be resentment on his end down the line; when he found a woman he truly wished to marry, or when he held the child—the one who would look nothing like him, yet still carry his name—in his arms for the first time. If it was a boy, it would be his firstborn; it would inherit what he had, unless he proved so cruel to pass it on to a second-born—or, if they never shared the marriage bed, a nephew.
She would also have Zelda, which could be catastrophic if she became aggravated by the news. Zelda was a loyal, hardworking woman... but she could be bitter sometimes. If she took personal offense to not knowing of the match before it was announced to the family, Dionisia might gain a sister but lose a friend.
"I never really envisioned my future, if I'm honest," she said, made uneasy by how true it was. Tomorrow was never certain; every day was taken one-by-one. Healing itself was rarely dangerous for the mediwitich, but there was always the risk of dangerous substances or suspects nearby.
The touch of his hand made her shiver. It was doubtful that their marriage would be smooth; they hardly knew each other, nor did she feel any true affection towards him beyond the familial security that the Fisks had always offered her. "We'll have to make the best out of it," she said softly, rising to her feet. "I trust you."
