Gwendolyn"S Choice
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 10
Six Months Later
Gwen stood on the porch in her bare feet, one hand resting on the gentle swell of her belly. The afternoon sun was warm on her face, and the desert stretched out before her in endless shades of gold and rust.
She’d stopped wearing shoes around the house weeks ago. Ethan had raised an eyebrow the first time, but she’d just shrugged. “Feels more honest,” she’d said. And he’d understood—after years of being told what to wear, what to be, how to act, going barefoot was a small rebellion. A reminder that this was her home, her land, her choice.
The baby shifted under her palm—just a flutter, barely there, but real. Proof of life. Proof of something she’d never imagined having.
A future.
She heard Ethan’s boots on the porch boards behind her.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, but there was no real reprimand in his voice. He’d learned months ago that Gwen rested when she wanted to, not when told.
“I am resting. Just doing it out here.” She glanced back at him, a small smile playing at her lips. “The baby likes the fresh air.”
“Does the baby tell you that?” He moved to stand beside her, his own hand coming to rest over hers on her belly.
“She does.”
“She?” Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “You decided it’s a girl?”
“Just a feeling.” Gwen leaned into him slightly. “You hoping for a boy?”
“I’m hoping for healthy. And for a child who has half your strength.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Though God help me if she has your stubbornness too.”
“Our stubbornness,” Gwen corrected. “She’ll be half yours, remember?”
“I remember.” His voice was soft, full of something that still made her chest tighten. Wonder, maybe. Gratitude.
They stood together in comfortable silence, watching the land. Their land. The deed with both their names hung framed inside now—Gwen had insisted on it. A reminder of what they’d built together.
The ranch was thriving. The horses were healthy. The garden Gwen had started was producing more than they could eat—she’d started trading vegetables in town, much to the surprise of the shopkeepers who remembered the wild, feral girl from the auction.
She was still wild. Still feral in some ways. But she’d learned she could be those things and still be loved.
“Rachel’s coming by tomorrow,” Ethan said. “She wants to bring some baby things she’s been sewing.”
Gwen nodded. Rachel had become something unexpected—a friend. Real and solid and without judgment. The quilting circle had accepted her too, slowly at first, but with growing warmth as they saw she wasn’t trying to be anything but herself.
“That’s kind of her.” Gwen paused. “Though I should probably warn her the baby might come out swinging.”
Ethan laughed—the deep, genuine sound that she’d learned to love. “Wouldn’t surprise me one bit.”
The baby fluttered again, stronger this time. Gwen’s breath caught.
“Did you feel that?”
“I felt it.” Ethan’s hand pressed a little firmer, his expression shifting to something almost reverent. “She’s strong.”
“Of course she is. She’s ours.”