Two months passed like this.
By then, Dream had already figured it out.
Ron was hiding.
And he was helping her.
So she made a plan.
Everything went smoothly—until night came.
Dream closed her book and turned off the lamp. She lay down and acted as if she were asleep.
Ron remained invisible, watching her quietly.
She's been silent all day, he thought. Only a few months left until our baby is born…
Dream lay still.
Maybe Ron isn't here tonight, she wondered. Maybe it's just my mind—pregnancy doing this to me.
Then another thought followed.
But Ron always appears when I'm in pain.
She let out a small sound—soft, shaky. Fake pain.
Immediately—
Ron canceled his invisibility and rushed to her side. He took her hand firmly.
"Dream, breathe slowly," he said urgently. "I'm here. And I always will be."
Dream tightened her grip.
Then she smiled.
Ron assumed it was because the "pain" had passed.
Then she spoke.
"Got you, Ron."
His eyes widened.
"Dream—are you alright?" he asked quickly.
"I'm fine," she said calmly, still holding his hand. "So… you really were here all this time."
Ron slowly dropped to his knees in front of the bed.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
"I called you," Dream said. "More than once. You never answered."
"Yes… I'm sorry," Ron repeated.
She stared at him for a moment.
"What about your training?" she asked.
"I sneak out," he admitted. "I just wanted to take care of you."
Dream exhaled softly.
"Ron," she said, "stand up. Come here."
She patted the space beside her.
Ron hesitated, then sat beside her on the bed.
"I missed you, dummy," Dream said, her voice gentle but firm. "If you were here, you should've told me."
Ron looked down.
If I told you I was from the future…
If I told you that you wouldn't be alive when I return…
You wouldn't have believed me.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"You shouldn't be," Dream replied.
"I was scared someone would notice me," Ron said.
Dream smiled knowingly.
"So… you want me to forgive you?" she asked.
Ron nodded.
"Then stay," she said with conviction. "Stay here with me. Visible. Take care of me where I can see you."
"Yes, boss," Ron said with a small smile.
Dream took his hand and placed it gently on her belly.
They talked quietly for a while—about nothing and everything—until her breathing slowed and sleep claimed her.
Ron stayed beside her.
And for the first time in months, he slept too. All his worries and problems were no longer in his mind.
The days that followed felt different.
Lighter.
Ron stayed.
He didn't vanish in the mornings anymore. When Dream woke, he was there—sitting on the edge of the bed, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, watching her like he had something precious to protect and no intention of letting it go.
The first time she saw him when she opened her eyes, she froze.
Then she smiled.
"You're still here," she said softly.
"I told you I would be," Ron replied.
Breakfast became something they shared. Ron cooked while Dream sat at the table, teasing him when he nearly burned the toast, laughing when he tried too hard to make everything "perfect for a pregnant woman."
"You don't need to overthink it," she told him, amused.
"I do," Ron said seriously. "It's my job."
During the day, Ron stayed close. When Dream walked, he matched her pace. When she sat, he made sure she was comfortable before thinking of himself. If she grew tired, he guided her gently back to bed without a word.
Sometimes she caught him staring.
"What?" she asked once.
"Nothing," he said quickly. "I just… missed this."
Dream reached for his hand and held it.
At night, the pain still came—but now, she didn't have to wonder.
Ron was already there.
He rubbed her back, whispered reassurance, helped her breathe through it. When it passed, she leaned into him without hesitation, resting her head against his chest.
"This is better," she murmured once. "You being real."
Ron tightened his arms around her.
"I know."
One afternoon, Dream folded clothes while Ron knelt awkwardly in front of her, tying her shoes.
"You don't have to do that," she said, embarrassed.
"Yes, I do," he replied stubbornly. "I missed eight hundred years. Let me make up for it."
She laughed, blinking back emotion.
In the evenings, they talked.
About small things.
About memories.
About the baby.
Dream would place Ron's hand on her belly and wait.
Sometimes there was a kick.
Ron would freeze every time, eyes widening in disbelief.
"…It moved," he whispered.
Dream smiled. "Told you."
Those nights, they fell asleep together. Ron's arm around her, Dream's hand resting over his—no powers, no hiding, no distance.
Just presence.
Just love.
And for the first time in a long while, Dream didn't feel like she was being watched.
She felt accompanied.