CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Adrian
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three hundred and thirty-six hours.
Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.
I had counted every minute since Serafina exiled me from her life.
The silence between us stretched longer than the hallway that separated our bedrooms, a chasm I couldn’t cross no matter how many times I tried.
I stood in the darkness of my room, my reflection in the window showing a man I barely recognized. The hollow-eyed stranger staring back at me had done things I couldn’t take back. Things that had broken the one person I was supposed to protect.
The void inside me had expanded, threatening to consume me entirely. I pressed my palm against the cold glass, watching as the night pressed back, indifferent to my suffering.
I had done many unforgivable things in my life. Blood stains my hands, my soul, a darkness I had long since embraced as part of who I am. I had killed men without hesitation. I had watched them beg for mercy I had no intention of giving.
I had destroyed lives, families, and dreams.
Never once did I feel guilt. Never once did shame consume me.
Until now.
This time was different.
She wasn’t a stranger, wasn’t some faceless enemy to be eliminated.
She was Serafina. My Serafina.
The woman who had looked at me with fire in her eyes, who had challenged me at every turn, who had given herself to me despite everything.
And I had taken her innocence and crushed it all.
I had betrayed my wife in ways that she may never forgive me.
Two weeks have passed since she discovered the truth of my betrayal. Two weeks of silence, of cold stares, of meals taken alone in her room. Two weeks of watching her walk past me as if I were nothing more than a ghost haunting her home.
I couldn’t stay away any longer.
I pushed away from the window, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor as I made my decision.
I had tried to be patient, I had tried to give her space…
But I couldn’t fucking stay away.
Not when she was down the hall, sleeping so peacefully. Not when I was alone in my room, in his darkness, the void expanding.
I wanted to be near them.
I needed to be near her.
I moved through the hallway like a ghost, my body drawn to hers by a force I couldn’t resist. Her door was unlocked, a small mercy, a tiny crack in the fortress she had built around herself.
I slipped inside, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. After the fire, it took a week to handle the damage and fix everything. I had a group of people working fast. And now her room was back to how it was. Except now, newly painted, new curtains and new furniture.
How the fire started…
That was still a mystery.
But I would find out eventually. I knew where to look when I needed answers and my suspicions had never been wrong when it came to him.
Serafina laid on her back, one hand resting on her stomach, her breathing deep and even. The moonlight caught the curve of her cheek, the soft swell of her lips, and something in my chest tightened painfully.
I had stayed away these past two weeks, respecting her need for space, her need to process what I’ve done. But tonight, the void inside me has grown too large to ignore.
The loneliness was too crushing to bear.
I approached the bed slowly, not wanting to wake her.
I needed this moment, needed to be close to her even if she would never know.
I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. Her breathing remains steady, deep with sleep. I reached out, my fingers hovering over her cheek before I allowed myself to touch her.
Thud.
Her skin was soft beneath my fingertips, warm and alive.
My heart ricocheted in my chest.
I traced the delicate curve of her jaw, the fullness of her lips, committing every detail to memory, memorizing her features in the darkness.
Thud. Thud.
She was so goddamn beautiful, it fucking hurt.
In her sleep, her guard was down. In her sleep, she couldn’t hate me.
I gently pushed the covers aside, revealing the slight swell of her stomach.
It was barely noticeable yet over her nightgown, but I knew it was there.
I had been watching, cataloging the changes in her body, the way her breasts had grown fuller, her hips wider, the subtle curve that wasn’t there before.
I leaned down, bringing my face closer to her belly. The scent of her fills my lungs, vanilla and something uniquely Serafina. My heart clenched painfully in my chest.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My hand hovered over the slight swell, afraid to touch but desperate to connect.
“Hello, little one,” I murmured, my voice rough with emotion. “I’m your father.”
The words feel strange on my tongue. Father.
I had been called many things in my life. Monster, beast, killer…The Reaper.
But I never had the chance to be a father.
I hadn’t been worthy.
“You’re about the size of a grape now, did you know that?” I whispered, talking to our baby for the first time. “Growing stronger every day.”
My throat tightened as I thought of the life growing inside her. My child. Our child.
The one thing that bounded us together irrevocably.
“Go easy on your mommy,” I continued. “I’ve heard she’s been sick all morning.”
The gynecologist came this morning. I knew because I was the one who called her and had watched from my office window as the woman walked into my home to examine my wife.
I should have been there. I should have held Serafina’s hand, listened to the heartbeat of our baby, shared in that moment. But I wasn’t invited.
I hadn’t been welcomed.
I wasn’t worthy.
And I hadn’t wanted to cause my wife any more distress by forcing my presence on her.
The gynecologist had said that Serafina was nine weeks along. The baby was healthy. She was progressing well.
Nine weeks.
The night I had claimed her as mine.
The night I had taken her virginity, the same night I had planted my seed.
We made a baby the night I made her mine.
In all ways.
Irrevocably.
Tied to me in every way. Soul, body, heart.
I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against her stomach. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing me from the inside out.
I had taken something precious and turned it into a weapon.
I had used our child as a means to an end.
And I had ruined Serafina’s trust in ways I couldn’t fix.
“I’m sorry,” I choked, the words inadequate, insufficient.
I felt her stir beneath me and looked up to find her watching me in the darkness.
How long had she been awake?
Her gaze was devoid of any warmth, any of the fire that had once burned so brightly when she looked at me.
“I can’t forgive you,” she said, her voice flat, emotionless.
I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat, as I accepted her words. Knowing that what I had done was unforgivable.
Her hand moved to her stomach, cupping the slight bump protectively. “The doctor says the baby is about one inch long and weighs about 10 grams,” she said, her voice softening slightly as she spoke of our child.
I remained silent, giving her the space to speak. To share what I hadn’t been privileged enough to witness.
“I heard his heartbeat,” she whispered, and the emotion in her voice cut through me like a knife. “He was so small, so tiny.”
I nodded, emotions clogging my throat.
I placed my hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin, the small curve of our child beneath our joined palms. For a moment, she didn’t pull away.
“He?” I asked, my voice rough.
She shrugged, a small movement in the darkness. “I don’t know yet. But it feels like a he to me.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy with all the things we couldn’t say.
“You’re growing our little grape,” I said instead, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. It was a small victory, a tiny crack in the wall between us.
“Do you want this baby?” I finally asked, utterly frightened for her response.
Serafina was silent for a moment, and then she pulled her hand away.
My chest cracked open.
“Yes,” she breathed.
The hand over the swell of her belly trembled.
“But that doesn’t mean I forgive you. This baby is as much mine as yours. How could I not want him?” Her voice is steadier now, stronger. Her gaze sought mine in the darkness, piercing, consuming, furious. “Except, I still need to know why. Why did you do it? Why did you take that choice from me?”
The question hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning.
But what could I possibly tell her?
My motives had always been simple.
And the truth was even simpler.
“I was selfish,” I admitted, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
It was about power, about control, about proving something…
Serafina closed her eyes, the softness in her face that had been there before when we were talking about our baby, the warmth… it was gone now as my bitter truth filled the silence of her room.
“I’ll do better,” I promised, the words feeling inadequate even as I spoke them.
I will prove that I am worthy.
She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t respond.
Just... hard, cold silence.
I waited and waited…
And when I realized that I had been shut out again, I nodded in the darkness, understanding clawing at my throat.
I got off the bed, hands trembling by my sides.
“You can stay,” she breathed in the darkness. “Not in my bed. In the armchair.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My chest shuddered with a weak breath.
It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t even close.
But it was something.
And for now, that was enough.