After: a Maxerica Story

Part 1: America and Maxon

(Four weeks after The One ended)

Once Maxon and I got married, we were officially the king and queen of Illéa. I wasn't expecting it to come that fast - but when Queen Amberly and King Clarkson died, it was up to us to fill their shoes. I doubt I will ever be the queen that Amberly was; she was peaceful and obedient. Those are qualities I simply don't possess.

As we set up our bedroom exactly how we want it, I come across the documents Maxon showed me about how he planned to get rid of the caste system. "Maxon," I say, looking up at him. "Are we really going to eliminate the castes?"

He nods. "Of course we are, my dear." He grins, but suddenly becomes serious when he sees the concern on my face. "Isn't that what you want?"

I hesitate a moment, but then I nod. At least, that's what I think I want. "It's just... are we ready for it? Is the country?"

Looking into my eyes, he sighs. "I hope."

"Even if we're not, I think we should do it." I shrug and look back down at the documents. "How do you think the rebels will react?"

He pauses, debating his answer. "The Northern rebels are with us on this, I believe. And I should hope the Southern rebels will stop attacking the people." Looking down, he adds, "Now that the Selection is over, the Fives might be in a more dangerous situation. That is, depending on how the rebels have reacted to you becoming queen."

"So the rebels will take that out on the Fives?" I ask, horror clear in my voice.

He nods. "I'm afraid that could happen. Just in case, we've sent more guards down there. The Fours were never attacked, though. At least that's good news." His efforts to cheer me up don't work, and he knows it.

"America, I know you don't want your people getting hurt. We're working on a solution," he whispers, holding my hand tight. "At least your family is here with us."

I pull back my hand. "I'm glad they're safe, but what if the rebels decide to continue attacking us, here at the palace?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "It's either the Fives or the palace. We're prepared for both options. I'm hopeful neither of them will happen." Then he smiles. "Maybe the rebels will be happy now that the castes are gone. After all, isn't that what they wanted in the first place?"

"I hope so," I say.

I've been feeling sick all morning, and this conversation isn't helping. Since becoming queen, I've felt the constant pressure to always be thinking about my country, and never myself. I'm already exhausted. How am I supposed to continue like this?

I smile, suddenly remembering the gift I have for Maxon. "Maxon," I say, waving him over to me. I open one of the drawers in my desk and pull out a small, silver package, with a bright bow on the top.

"What is this?" he asks, smiling at me with a confused look on his face. "You didn't have to get me anything..."

"Just open it!" I exclaim, forcing him to take it.

He laughs, eyeing the gift. He unwraps it and puts the bow on my head, making me giggle. When he opens the box, he smiles from ear to ear. After our wedding, at the reception, I had asked the photographer to print out the pictures and to have them to me as soon as possible. I wrapped them up and planned to give them to him.

"America, these are the most beautiful picture in the world," he breathes. He looks back up at me, his eyes sparkling. "Mostly because you're in them."

My cheeks heat up, and a smile crosses my face as I look at him. It's still hard to believe he's my husband. That he's mine.

After we got married, Maxon decided to make a large collage of pictures of us to hang in our room. So right above the head of our bed, there's a display of all of the pictures of some of the best moments of our lives. When he isn't paying attention, I sometimes snap a picture of him to put on the wall.

Carefully, we add our marriage pictures to the collection. We sit back, looking at them for a moment. He then turns to me and holds my head in his hands. He kisses me, and I kiss him back. I want him more than I ever have before. And now he's mine, and I'm his.

It's just me and him, and I love it that way. We haven't had much time to be together because of all of the never-ending royalty business. The only night we were left alone was the night after we got married, which I'm extremely thankful for.

Out of nowhere, my stomach feels like it flipped upside down. I groan and clutch it, lying back on the bed.

"America, what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?" Maxon asks, lying down next to me, worry in his expression.

"Yeah," I lie. "My stomach just doesn't feel great." I don't dare mention what I think might be going on, out of fear and uncertainty. Although, it's possible he's guessed it already.

"I hope you're not getting sick," he replies. "That would be a shame."

I nod, grateful that he didn't jump to the same conclusion that I did. "Yeah." I feel another pain and I moan again, trying not to make the pain evident to Maxon. With everything going on, I don't need to add to his worries.

I look up to him and say, "Don't worry about me. Do you have anything to do with, you know, being the king and everything?"

He nods and rolls his eyes, and I say, "You go ahead and get that done. I'll be fine. I'm probably just hungry."

Even though he agrees, I can tell I haven't completely convinced him.

After he kisses me on the head and leaves, I run into the bathroom and anxiously pull out the pregnancy test I took from the hospital wing.

There's only one way to know if my guess is right.