XXXVI

Lea had been visiting Sasha frequently these days, offering not only her presence but the steady kind of support that didn't demand anything in return. She brought small comforts—homemade meals, gentle reassurances, idle chatter that tried to distract Sasha from the heaviness she carried. Yet as Sasha entered her ninth month, with her due date looming like a shadow at the edge of every conversation, she found herself more restless than ever. No amount of companionship could soothe the growing storm inside her.

That evening, the sky itself seemed to mirror her unease. Heavy rain pounded against the windows, the sound relentless and hollow, blurring the glass and turning the streets outside into streams. Lea had called earlier, regret heavy in her voice, apologizing that she couldn't make it through the downpour. It left Sasha alone in her small home, the silence stretching too wide, pressing tightly around her chest like a vice.

She sat curled up on the worn sofa, the faint hum of the rain her only company. Her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled through her phone, her thumb hovering over familiar territory. Without fully realizing it, she tapped into the folder she kept hidden—a private archive she promised herself she would stop revisiting.

There it was again.

**Darius.**

The screen glowed with his image. A video she had watched countless times before, unable to delete it no matter how many times she swore she would. His sharp jawline, the way his tousled black hair fell in uneven strands over his forehead, his eyes dark and fathomless. He wasn't smiling in the clip, wasn't saying anything at all. Just a brief, candid moment someone else must've captured—yet to her, it felt as if even through the grainy quality, his gaze found her and lingered.

She pressed play again.

And again.

It wasn't enough. The ache in her heart only worsened, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. Tears blurred her vision, hot and unforgiving, as she stared at the man who still owned every piece of her, no matter how far she ran.

**Why do I keep doing this to myself?**

The question whispered through her mind like a curse, the answer always just out of reach. She hated herself for how weak she felt, for how desperately she clung to a man she believed she'd lost forever.

Her thumb hovered over the call button.

She'd resisted. For months, she'd fought against the impulse to reach out, telling herself that silence was safer—for her, for him, for the child she carried. But tonight, something inside her cracked, split open by the weight of loneliness and longing.

Her hand shook as she pressed the button, barely able to breathe as the screen displayed his name—the contact she'd never dared delete.

The dial tone rang.

Each beat sent her heart pounding violently in her chest, her breath catching painfully in her throat. The wait felt endless, her nerves frayed and raw.

Then, finally—

*"Hello."*

His voice.

Deep. Steady. Familiar.

It washed over her like a wave, and a shiver ran down her spine at the sound of it. She clutched the phone tighter, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape. For a heartbeat, she imagined she could close her eyes and pretend nothing had changed—that they were still entangled in that dangerous, passionate dance, and he was still hers.

She opened her mouth, desperate to speak his name.

But before she could form a single word, he spoke again—his tone colder this time, distant.

*"Who is this?"*

The question hit her like a slap across the face.

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. He knew. She was certain he recognized the silence, the hesitance. And yet, he chose not to acknowledge her.

He was punishing her.

A deliberate, calculated wound. One she deserved.

Her vision blurred completely as fresh tears spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. She bit down on her trembling lip and, without another word, ended the call.

The silence that followed was deafening.

She let the phone fall from her hand, forgotten, as she curled in on herself on the bed. Her sobs broke free, wracking her body until she could barely breathe, the pain a sharp, relentless pressure in her chest.

The rain outside only seemed to grow louder, fierce and unrelenting, battering the roof as though it mirrored the chaos inside her. She pressed her face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of her cries, but it was no use. The weight of everything she had done—the lies, the betrayal, the distance—settled over her like an unbearable shroud.

Her hand slid instinctively to her swollen belly, her fingers trembling as they traced gentle circles over the taut skin.

**"Damien…"**

Her voice cracked, soft and broken.

**"Tell your dad that I love him. Tell him to forgive me."**

Her breath hitched violently, tears soaking the pillow beneath her.

**"Tell him to take me back… I can't live without him."**

The confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded, carried away by the sound of the storm outside.

She cried until exhaustion tugged at her limbs, her body finally surrendering to sleep. Even in slumber, her face was damp with tears, her arms wrapped protectively around her belly as though she could shield her child from the ache consuming her.

The rain didn't let up.

And somewhere far away, she still felt the distance between them stretching wide, filled with words left unsaid and wounds yet to heal.

Darius sat alone in his office, the city lights sprawling endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. The sharp lines of skyscrapers blurred slightly in the dark, cold reflection staring back at him. His fingers curled tighter around the heavy crystal glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside catching the faint gleam of the desk lamp beside him.

He hadn't touched the paperwork scattered across his desk in hours.

He wasn't thinking about business tonight.

He was thinking about her.

Trying—desperately—to erase her from his mind.

But it was futile.

No matter how many times he told himself to forget, her face still lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts. The memory of her touch refused to fade, branded into his skin, into the very air around him.

He could still feel the ghost of her lips against his.

Could still remember how easily she had folded beneath him that night—how willingly she had given herself to him, as though, for a fleeting moment, nothing else existed but the two of them.

That night had cracked something open inside him.

Made him believe in something dangerous. Something he never thought he wanted—

Trust.

Hope.

Love.

**And then she shot him.**

The memory of her betrayal hit like a punch to the ribs, sharp and merciless.

The same woman he had foolishly let in had turned around and put a bullet through his chest.

The trust he'd offered her, something he rarely gave anyone, had been shattered in the span of a heartbeat.

She hadn't just hurt him.

She had destroyed him.

When Leon had tracked her down, weeks after, his voice low and careful as he revealed her location, Darius hadn't even let him finish.

*"I don't want to hear her name again."*

He hadn't lied.

He wanted nothing to do with her.

Or so he told himself.

But that conviction wavered—fractured—the night his phone rang unexpectedly.

Her name illuminated the screen, small and quiet, yet loud enough to make his pulse skip.

His grip around the phone had tightened instinctively.

He should've ignored it.

Should've let it ring until it died.

Instead, he answered.

And when she remained silent on the other end, when he heard only the shallow hitch of her breath—he'd reached for cruelty like a weapon.

*"Who is this?"*

He had known.

Of course he had.

Her silence had said everything.

And yet, he'd pretended otherwise, slicing cleanly through the fragile thread connecting them.

So why did it feel like something inside him cracked wide open when the line went dead?

Why did the sound of that silence echo louder than anything?

With a quiet curse, he downed the rest of his drink and poured himself another, watching the liquid swirl as though it held some answer he couldn't find.

*Forget her.*

But no amount of whiskey seemed strong enough to do the job.

The days slipped by faster than Sasha could keep track of, each one blending into the next like a blur. Her due date loomed just two weeks ahead, a countdown she felt pressing heavily against her ribcage.

That afternoon, the house was quiet. Too quiet.

She sat at the small dining table, pushing the last bites of her lunch around the plate. Her movements had grown slow, careful—the weight of her belly making each gesture deliberate.

She tried not to think about how alone she felt.

Tried not to think about the ache in her chest that had nothing to do with the physical strain.

But when she stood, a sudden warmth gushed down her legs, pulling her sharply out of her thoughts.

She froze, her breath catching.

Eyes widening, she glanced down, confusion morphing into dread.

Her water had broken.

Her heart lurched violently against her ribs.

Panic clawed at her throat, making it hard to breathe.

Before she could even process it, a sharp pain radiated through her belly, wrapping around her spine like iron bands tightening.

A strangled cry escaped her lips as she grabbed the edge of the table, her nails digging into the worn wood.

*It's too early.*

Her mind scrambled for something—anything—but all she felt was a rising wave of fear.

Her hands shook as she fumbled for her phone, nearly dropping it twice.

*Lea.*

She dialed.

No answer.

Her chest heaved, fingers trembling as she tried again.

Still nothing.

Desperation prickled at her skin like ice. She felt another contraction grip her body, stronger this time, pulling her down to her knees.

Her vision swam, spots dancing at the edges.

She had to get help.

Anyone.

Her thumb hovered over one name—the one she'd tried to avoid at all costs.

*Darius.*

She hesitated, her heart pounding wildly, every instinct telling her not to press it.

But the next contraction ripped through her, leaving no room for pride or hesitation.

She tapped his name.

The phone rang once.

Her voice barely came out—a whisper laced with exhaustion, panic, and pain.

*"Darius..."*

There was silence on the other end.

Her free hand gripped her stomach, her breath ragged.

*"I think... it's time. My water broke. Can you—"*

Before she could finish, a wave of darkness rushed over her, everything spinning out of focus.

The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor as her legs buckled.

She collapsed beside it, the world fading around her.

Darius's entire body went rigid, every muscle locked as if bracing against an invisible blow.

*Pregnant?*

The single word echoed in his skull like a gunshot, ricocheting off the walls of his mind.

His blood turned to ice, the chill slicing through the heat that always simmered just beneath his skin.

Without realizing it, he shot up from his chair, knocking it backward. His pulse thundered, an erratic drum pounding against his ribs.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" he roared, already snatching his keys from the table, the metal biting into his palm.

There was a pause on the line, Leon's voice filtering in, calm but edged with something unreadable. *"Didn't you tell me not to talk about her?"*

Darius's jaw tightened until it ached.

Yes. He had shut down every conversation, every whisper of Sasha's name, slicing them off at the root before they had the chance to bloom.

He couldn't bear it—couldn't hear her name without it tearing something open inside him.

And now—now *this.*

She was pregnant?

With *his* child?

A wildfire of conflicting emotions blazed through him—disbelief, fury, terror—all twisting together until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

His mind raced, spiraling dangerously.

Could it be his?

They had only been together once, but that single night had burned itself into his memory, sharp and unforgiving.

Was that enough?

Or had she… moved on?

The thought sent something dark and violent clawing up his throat.

If another man had touched her, if someone else had dared claim what was *his*—

He would find him.

And destroy him.

*"Just give me the address, Leon."* His voice dropped, rough and lethal. *"Her water broke. She called me before passing out."*

A beat of stunned silence crackled on the other end.

Then Leon's voice snapped, sharp and alarmed. *"What?! But she still had two weeks!"*

*"I don't care—tell me where she is!"*

There was no space for logic, no room for explanation. He needed to get to her. Now.

Leon rattled off the address, and Darius ended the call before the last syllable fell from his lips.

Without wasting another second, he gunned the engine, weaving recklessly through traffic, his hand white-knuckled around the steering wheel.

He tried calling her back, thumb jabbing the screen.

No answer.

Each time it rang out, dread pooled deeper in his gut.

*Hold on, Sasha. Just hold on.*

The moment he reached her house, he didn't bother knocking.

The door was locked.

Without hesitation, he took a step back and kicked it in, the wood splintering beneath the force of his boot.

The door slammed open with a crack that echoed through the empty house.

His eyes scanned wildly, heart hammering.

Then he saw her.

Crumbled on the floor like a broken doll, her body still.

His stomach dropped violently.

"Sasha," he breathed, rushing to her side and falling to his knees.

Her skin felt clammy beneath his fingers. He cupped her face, patting her cheek, voice cracking under the weight of panic.

"Sasha. Open your eyes."

No response.

A cold terror unlike anything he'd ever known twisted around his chest, squeezing until he couldn't breathe.

Without wasting a second more, he scooped her limp form into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"You're okay," he muttered, more to himself than her, as he carried her out, every step fueled by sheer will.

He strapped her carefully into the passenger seat, double-checking the seatbelt with shaking hands, then floored the accelerator toward the nearest hospital.

Red lights blurred past. Horns blared. None of it registered.

His entire focus narrowed down to the woman beside him—the fragile rise and fall of her chest, the unnatural stillness of her face.

When he skidded to a stop outside the hospital, he was out of the car before it fully stopped, yanking open the passenger door.

"Help!" His voice rang out sharp and commanding. "She needs help. Now!"

The medical staff snapped into motion, wheeling over a gurney as Darius gently but urgently transferred her into their care.

One of the doctors approached, speaking calmly, too calmly, asking him to wait outside.

Darius's glare was ice. His voice was steel.

"She's my wife," he said flatly, daring the man to challenge him. "I'm *not* leaving her."

The doctor's eyes widened, and he gave a hurried nod before disappearing into the operating room with Sasha.

Darius followed, never letting go of her hand as they prepped her for an emergency C-section.

The cold sterility of the room contrasted sharply with the storm inside him. Machines beeped. Nurses moved efficiently.

But all he could see was her. Pale. Still. Silent.

He kept his fingers wrapped tightly around hers, grounding himself, silently willing her to stay.

Minutes felt like hours, each second stretched unbearably thin.

Then—

A sharp cry pierced the heavy air.

A baby's wail, high and fierce.

His breath caught, chest constricting.

The doctor turned, eyes softening. *"Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"*

For a moment, Darius couldn't move, couldn't speak.

Then, wordlessly, he nodded, taking the scissors with hands that trembled despite all his control.

The cord was severed, and the baby's cries grew louder.

A son.

*His son.*

A strange ache cracked open in his chest, unfamiliar and raw.

But even as the nurses cleaned the tiny, squalling boy, Darius's gaze slid back to Sasha.

She hadn't moved.

Hadn't opened her eyes.

He tightened his grip on her limp hand, leaning down until his forehead brushed against hers.

"Wake up," he whispered hoarsely, voice breaking despite himself. "Come back to me."

He hadn't clawed his way back to her, hadn't fought tooth and nail, just to lose her now.

Not now.

Not when he'd just found her again.