chapter 8

Kian's POV

As I walked out of the Infirmary, each step heavier than the last. My mind kept replaying the image of Aria refusing to even look at her own child. Does she really not want her child anymore? The way she turned her face away, how pain and rejection twisted her features it made my chest ache. I couldn't tell if it was anger, guilt, or something worse tightening around my ribs. All I knew was that it felt dark and suffocating, something I didn't want to face. Something I wished I could outrun, something I wished never happened in the first place. The hallway was quiet. The faint beeping of the heart monitor from her room echoed behind me. I rounded a corner, eager to leave, when a nurse hurried up to me, her head bowed low in respect. She didn't say anything at first, clearly waiting for permission to speak. But I knew if she had approached me, it wasn't for no reason.

"Alpha," she said hesitantly. "I know this might not be the time…"

"What is it?" I snapped, sharper than I meant to, but my patience was already stretched thin. I didn't want another conversation, not now.

"It's the baby," she said softly. "She still doesn't have a name."

"Isla," I replied without thinking. "Her name is Isla."

The nurse nodded once, murmured a quiet "Yes, Alpha," then backed away. But I didn't move. I stood there, staring at the closed door of Aria's room. Behind it, she was likely sedated, slowed by the medication they'd given her. But the image of her lying there hollow in pains and broken made something burn inside me. She had fought to bring Isla into this world. She hadn't run. She hadn't ended the pregnancy, despite the rejection. She could've given up and maybe she had but she still brought our daughter here. And now she wouldn't even look at her. Nothing about it made sense. I turned away and walked off without another word. Silence greeted me, and I was grateful for it. The less I had to hear, the less I had to feel.

"Kian." My mother's voice startled me. I looked up to see my mother standing in the dim hallway. Her sharp eyes studied me with unreadable emotion. Of course she had something to say. She always did.

"Mother," I greeted, straightening. "Is there something I can help you with?"

She stepped closer, slow and steady. "How is she?"

"Aria?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No," my mother replied flatly. "The baby. Isla. I heard you named her."

"Word spreads fast," I said sarcastically. "I literally just named her. You got the news already?"

She ignored the sarcasm. "You still haven't answered my question."

"She's fine," I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady. "The doctors are monitoring her. She will be under care until she's strong enough."

My mother's gaze didn't waver. "And her mother?"

I sighed. "You just said you didn't want to ask about Aria."

"But I am now," she said quietly.

"She's recovering," I muttered, the words heavy on my tongue like I had said what I wasn't supposed to say.

Here is the revised chapter with only the names changed according to your story:

"Recovering," she repeated, raising an eyebrow at me. "And you? What are you doing, Kian? Are you helping her? Supporting her? Or are you just standing by, blaming her for everything? I saw how you looked at her and I saw how she was looking at you. What are you doing to help her, Kian?"

"I didn't ask for this," I said through gritted teeth. "I didn't ask to be tied to her. And now there's a child a child I didn't plan for. You can't just expect me to accept that so easily."

"That child is your blood. Whether or not you planned for her, she's here now. And Aria, as much as you may resent her, is the one who carried her and nearly died doing so," my mother said sharply, snapping like only a mother could.

"She's pushing Isla away," I argued, frustration bubbling to the surface. "She won't even hold her, Mother. She's rejecting her. She can't even feed her her milk won't be enough."

"Of course she is," mom said, her voice softening. "She's overwhelmed. She's hurt. Do you really think she wanted this? To be dragged back here, judged, cornered? How do you expect her body to provide anything when she's weak? She nearly died, Kian."

"She had a choice," I snapped. "She could have let the baby go. She didn't have to carry through with it. She wouldn't be dealing with all of this if she had."

"And so did you," Selene shot back, her voice rising for the first time. "You rejected her, Kian. You treated her like she was disposable. And now you're angry that she's not reacting how you want her to? That's not how this works. That's not how life works."

I clenched my fists, her words slicing deeper than I wanted to admit.

"Aria needs time, Kian. And so do you. But don't make the mistake of abandoning that little girl. Isla is innocent in all of this. She didn't ask to be born into this mess, but she's here now. And she needs her parents," she said, stepping closer.

"Parents?" I scoffed. "You think Aria is capable of being a mother right now? Do you honestly believe she's fit for that?"

"She's stronger than you think," my mother said firmly. "And so are you. But you need to decide whether you're going to be the kind of man your daughter deserves or if you're going to let this destroy you."

The infirmary was quiet when I returned. Most of the nurses had already retired for the night. Those on duty stood silently by the incubator or moved between rooms, tending to other patients. I approached Isla's incubator, my chest tightening as I looked down at her. She was so small. So fragile. Her tiny fingers curled into fists. For a moment, something stirred in me, something that wasn't rage. Something that scared me more than anything else ever had.

"She got her milk," one of the nurses said softly. "She's resting now."

I didn't respond. My eyes were fixed on Isla, on her little chest rising and falling so steadily despite the storm she was born into.

I hovered my hand over the glass, hesitating, before I finally let it rest on the surface. Even the idea of accepting her felt absurd to me.

"You didn't ask for this either," I murmured.

The nurse stepped back without a word, leaving us in silence. For a moment, it was just me and Isla, and the weight of everything ahead of us. I didn't know how to fix any of this. But I knew one thing: Walking away wasn't an option.

"I promise you, I will not walk away from you. Not as long as I'm breathing, little one, my dear Isla