XXXV

As the door clicked shut behind them, an almost suffocating silence settled over the room. Sasha and Lea stood facing each other, neither daring to speak at first, as if the walls themselves were heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. The faint hum of distant traffic outside felt muted, irrelevant compared to the quiet storm swirling between them.

Lea shifted first, her gaze softening as she closed the small distance between them. Without hesitation, she reached out and gently took Sasha's hands in her own. Her touch was warm, grounding, as if trying to offer something solid amidst Sasha's inner turmoil.

"Don't take Leon's words to heart," Lea murmured, her voice a low reassurance, almost maternal. "He's harsh because he loves Darius like a brother. That's why he reacts the way he does—he's scared of losing him again."

Sasha forced her lips into a faint smile, but it barely flickered across her face, her eyes remaining shadowed. "I know," she replied softly, though the exhaustion lacing her voice made it sound like she was convincing herself more than anyone else.

Lea's grip tightened slightly, a subtle but determined gesture, as though she could transfer her strength through sheer will. "Sasha," she said gently but firmly, "I know things between you and Darius aren't simple. But have you thought about talking to him? Just… talking, openly. It might clear up so much."

Sasha's gaze flickered downward, her fingers curling faintly as if trying to shield herself from the suggestion. Her voice dropped, almost bitter. "And what makes you so sure this is just a misunderstanding?"

Lea exhaled quietly, her expression turning soft, laced with understanding. "Because Leon told me everything," she admitted, her tone calm but certain.

A sharp, humorless chuckle escaped Sasha's throat, and she shook her head. "Leon and Darius both think I'm the enemy," she said, her voice trembling beneath a brittle edge. "So why is it that you're the only one who believes there's been a misunderstanding?"

Lea's eyes glistened with quiet empathy, her smile touched with sadness. "Because I know you, Sasha," she replied simply, her voice steady but filled with conviction. "You wouldn't hurt someone without a reason. You were lied to, manipulated by people you trusted. That wasn't your fault."

Sasha swallowed hard, her throat constricting as the words cut too close to the bone. "But I still believed him," she whispered, each word carrying the weight of her guilt, her voice trembling with something dangerously close to self-loathing. "I thought Darius didn't know where I was. I thought he had given up." She hesitated, her breath faltering. "But today—"

Lea interrupted gently, shaking her head, her hand never leaving Sasha's. "He didn't know, Sasha. None of us did. We only found out about your whereabouts today. Everything before that… we had no clue."

Sasha's breath caught sharply, her eyes widening as the realization slowly sank in, unraveling something tightly wound in her chest. "So… he really didn't know," she breathed, the words escaping like a confession, her heart squeezing painfully inside her ribcage.

There was a pause, quiet but weighted, before Lea spoke again, this time more hesitantly. "You knew Darius wasn't dead. After realizing your uncle had deceived you… why didn't you come back to him?"

For a moment, Sasha couldn't answer. Her throat tightened, her vision blurring faintly as something deep and raw clawed at her insides. Then, a hollow laugh escaped her lips, brittle and empty. "With what face, Lea?" she choked, shaking her head as tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. "After everything I did… how could I possibly go back to him? He'll never trust me again. And I…" She trailed off, swallowing thickly. "I can't bear to see his hatred. I just can't."

Lea's expression softened into something achingly tender, her own eyes shimmering as if she could feel the depth of Sasha's pain firsthand. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Sasha, pulling her into a firm, steady embrace.

Sasha stiffened at first, every instinct telling her to pull away. But the warmth radiating from Lea, the silent understanding in her hold, slowly eroded the tension in her muscles. Bit by bit, Sasha allowed herself to lean into it, to accept the comfort being offered even if she felt she didn't deserve it.

"Sasha," Lea whispered softly, one hand sliding gently down to rest on the swell of Sasha's stomach.

As if responding to the tender moment, the baby kicked—a sudden, sharp movement against Lea's hand. Sasha gasped, her eyes widening, startled by the unexpected jolt of life beneath her skin. For a heartbeat, silence lingered, and then—unexpectedly—a soft laugh bubbled out of her throat, breathless and light. A single tear traced down her cheek, but this time it wasn't from pain. It was from the sheer weight of emotions swirling uncontrollably inside her.

Lea drew back slightly, smiling. "What happened?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity.

Sasha wiped at her cheek, still chuckling under her breath. "It's him," she replied, her hand instinctively coming to rest over her belly. "He's always kicking me. The moment he feels anyone's attention, he starts acting up."

Lea tilted her head, her smile deepening. "How do you know it's a boy?" she asked, her tone playful but curious.

Sasha hesitated, her fingers brushing absentmindedly across her stomach as she spoke. "Maybe I just… have a feeling," she murmured, her voice quiet, almost wistful.

Lea studied her for a moment, as if seeing something unspoken behind Sasha's words, but chose not to press further. Instead, she bumped Sasha's shoulder lightly, her smile turning mischievous. "You didn't even ask about my baby," she teased.

Sasha's eyes widened, genuine surprise flickering across her face. "Oh, God! You're right. How is yours? Already delivered?"

Lea laughed, a soft, melodic sound. "Yes, and my little girl is already six months old. Time flies, doesn't it?"

Sasha's expression softened, a hint of something lighter flickering through the heaviness in her gaze. "That's wonderful. What's her name?"

A proud smile spread across Lea's face as she answered, "Lily."

Sasha echoed the name, tasting it on her tongue. "Lily. That's sweet."

"I know," Lea said, grinning playfully now. "I named her myself."

Sasha arched an eyebrow, a teasing glint breaking through the somberness. "Oh? You didn't let Leon have a say?"

Lea blushed, giggling as she shook her head. "Well, he wanted to. But I was faster. By the time he opened his mouth, I'd already told the nurse."

They both laughed then, the sound light and genuine, easing some of the weight between them. For a few minutes, they slipped into easy conversation—Lea eagerly sharing endless little stories about Lily: how she would curl her tiny fingers tightly around Leon's, how she had inherited her father's intense stare but always broke into the cheekiest, most mischievous smile.

In return, Sasha found herself slowly opening up, her voice quieter but steadier as she spoke of her own baby—how Damien seemed to respond to music, how he kicked the hardest when she spoke aloud, how sometimes she could swear he was trying to communicate in his own way.

For the first time in a long while, there was laughter. There was connection. And for Sasha, perhaps even the faintest glimmer of hope.

Just as the knot of tension in Sasha's chest had begun to loosen, the question she'd been avoiding clawed its way to the surface. Her voice came out quieter than she intended, almost hesitant.

"Why didn't Darius come?" she asked, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her sleeve.

For a heartbeat, Lea's smile faltered. It was subtle, but Sasha noticed the soft dimming in her friend's eyes, the brief hesitation before she spoke.

"He will," Lea assured gently, though her voice carried something unspoken beneath its calm surface. "Leon told him before we came here."

Sasha's gaze dropped, her heart sinking despite the reassurance.

"Oh," she murmured, the single syllable falling heavy between them.

Lea didn't move immediately. Instead, she watched Sasha closely, almost as if searching her face for cracks beneath the fragile composure.

After a moment, her voice softened, cautious but sincere.

"Do you want to see him?" she asked, her eyes kind but piercing.

Sasha's throat constricted. The answer should have been simple, but the words lodged painfully in her chest.

She didn't reply.

Every single day, she had lived with the ache of missing him. Darius lingered in every shadow, in every quiet moment. She longed for him, yearned for the warmth of his arms, for the sharp intensity in his eyes when he looked at her.

And yet…

She was frozen.

Paralyzed by a thousand fears that tangled together like thorns.

What if he never forgave her?

What if he couldn't understand the choices she'd made, the betrayal she'd committed?

What if he had stopped wanting her altogether?

Her hands unconsciously drifted to her belly, cradling the gentle curve where Damien grew. The guilt was unbearable—a suffocating weight pressing on her chest.

Her mistakes weren't just hers to carry anymore.

Damien, innocent and yet unborn, bore the brunt of the chaos she had unleashed.

Lea, sensing the storm raging behind Sasha's silence, didn't press further. She let the quiet settle, offering Sasha space to breathe.

Minutes passed before the door creaked open. Sasha looked up as Leon entered, his eyes immediately finding Lea. He didn't spare Sasha more than a cursory glance, as if he intuitively knew that his wife was the anchor in the room.

"Are you done?" Leon asked, his voice gruff but familiar.

Lea's lips quirked into a smirk, effortlessly slipping back into the ease of their dynamic.

"Why?" she teased lightly. "Is Lily searching for me?"

Leon's stern façade cracked just enough for the corners of his mouth to twitch in amusement.

"Yeah. Come now."

Lea stood, but before leaving, she reached out, pulling Sasha into a brief but warm embrace.

Her voice dropped to a murmur. "Take care, okay?"

Sasha nodded, forcing a small smile even though her chest felt hollow.

"You too."

She watched as Leon and Lea disappeared through the doorway, their shoulders brushing, their connection unmistakable.

It was an easy intimacy, unspoken but undeniable.

A small part of her heart tightened painfully at the sight. She wondered if she would ever feel something like that again—something whole and uncomplicated.

When the door clicked shut behind them, silence reclaimed the room.

Sasha sank onto the couch, her hands resting protectively over her belly, and stared at the empty space in front of her.

Her thoughts swirled in relentless circles, each one dragging her deeper into doubt.

Would Darius ever forgive her?

Would he ever understand why she had done what she did?

Could he still love her, after everything?

Her chest constricted so tightly it hurt.

The sob slipped out before she could stop it, breaking the stillness like a crack of thunder.

She bent forward, both hands trembling as they covered her rounded stomach. Her voice shook as she whispered into the quiet.

"Damien…" Her breath hitched. "Can you tell your dad that I love him? That I'm sorry?"

Her fingers tightened against her skin, as if somehow her unborn son could hear the plea lodged in her breaking heart.

"Tell him… he should forgive me. That he should come… take me home."

Tears slid down her cheeks, hot and unrelenting, blurring the edges of the room.

Somewhere in the background, a Bollywood song played softly on the TV—the haunting lyrics weaving around her like a bittersweet lullaby. The melody seemed to echo her pain, each word amplifying the ache lodged in her chest.

She clutched her baby bump tighter, as though Damien's steady presence was the only thing anchoring her to this world, the only thing stopping her from dissolving entirely.

Time crawled by, marked only by the rhythmic sound of rain tapping harder against the windowpane.

The storm outside grew fiercer, shadows dancing across the walls as the wind howled.

Sasha curled deeper into herself on the couch, her gaze fixed on the downpour beyond the glass. The gray sky mirrored the storm swirling in her heart.

And yet, amidst the chaos, something unfamiliar stirred within her—a strange flutter low in her chest.

It wasn't peace. It wasn't relief.

But it was something.

A shift, subtle but undeniable, like the hush right before a turning point.

She didn't know why, but she felt it.

As surely as she felt the rain, as surely as she felt Damien's heartbeat beneath her hands.

Darius.

The thought came to her not as a question, but as a certainty.

Something was coming.

Something was about to change.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe—just a little—that he might already be on his way.