Christmas Surprise
Valeria
On Christmas morning, Dante wakes me by pressing a kiss to my shoulder. A gentle gesture, with no ulterior motive.
He’s taking things slowly, taking nothing for granted. And that restraint touches me.
The night before was extraordinary, but it doesn’t erase the resentment or the wounds between us.
Even so, I curl up against him, enjoying his presence and the warmth of his skin.
Then we get up to take a shower. As he steps beneath the hot water, I realize I haven’t told him everything.
Fuck.
Suddenly, I feel terribly vulnerable—and not because I’m naked.
Completely unaware, he reaches out a hand, inviting me to join him.
I take a panicked step back and blurt out:
“I don’t put my head underwater anymore.”
He understands without me needing to say more. A shadow crosses his expression, but he pushes it away immediately.
With a steady motion, he detaches the handheld showerhead and offers it to me.
“Show me how you do it,” he says softly.
So I show him how I wet my hair by tilting my head back.
He understands immediately and gently takes the showerhead from my hands, continuing to wet my hair with careful, steady movements.
Without a word, he fixes the showerhead lower against my shoulders while he takes soap to wash me.
The softness of his gestures brings tears to my eyes.
I think I’m hopelessly in love with this version of him.
We finish washing and barely have time to drink coffee and get ready before lunch at Bernadette and Arnaud Perez’s house.
While he buttons his shirt, I shamelessly stare.
“If you keep looking at me like that,” he says, amused, “we’re going to be late.”
I sigh dramatically and go search through my wardrobe for something to wear.
I’m still deciding when he asks:
“Does this work?”
How exactly am I supposed to answer whether his tailored midnight-blue suit—the one that highlights every line of his athletic body—is appropriate for a family Christmas lunch?
“Uh... yes.”
He laughs.
“Careful. You’ve got a little drool right there.”
He wipes the corner of my mouth before kissing me.
He tastes addictively of desire and coffee.
I savor him.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I pull back reluctantly.
We’re expected.
While I’m getting dressed, Dante turns his phone back on. The device immediately explodes.
Notifications. Missed calls. Texts.
He scrolls through the messages when his body suddenly goes rigid.
Instinctively, I move closer. My eyes fall on the screen.
A dozen messages from Bianca, the first ones sent Saturday morning:
Dante, we need to talk. It’s important. Call me back.
Dante, where are you? I went by the apartment and you weren’t there.
Then, Saturday afternoon:
I went to your parents’ house. You weren’t there either. Don’t tell me you’re with her on the day of our wedding. Not after what she did to us.
And this morning:
Dante, answer me. It’s urgent.
Then I read the next message, and everything stops.
Dante, I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby.
No. No. No.
“She’s bluffing,” he says. “I always used protection with her.”
But I hear it in his voice—that tiny flicker of doubt, that barely-there crack.
And it says more than words ever could.
“She’s lying,” he repeats.
I believe him. Dante is capable of anger, sometimes even cruelty, but he would never lie about something this important.
But condoms can break…
He turns toward me.
“She’s trying to destabilize us.”
I nod. But the doubt has already slipped in.
“Why is she so obsessed?” I ask.
“It’s personal revenge. She wanted your life, Valeria. And she won’t accept losing easily.”
I nod again. Yes. That makes sense.
But logic doesn’t protect you from pain.
The fact that they shared that kind of intimacy is killing me.
Images of them flood my mind.
Fuck, it hurts.
Dante stares at me intensely, as if he can follow every direction my thoughts are taking. A tortured expression crosses his face.
“Stop,” he pleads softly. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t think about it. She never mattered. I regret every minute I spent with her.”
His hand catches mine, our fingers intertwining as though he’s trying to anchor me back to the present.
Little by little, the tension inside me loosens.
Then another message comes through, and my last shred of hope collapses.
Blood test results confirming the pregnancy.
I read them once. Twice. As if the words might somehow change.
“No.”
The word escapes me on its own.
My legs give out beneath me.
Dante catches me before I collapse.
I barely react to his embrace.
Bianca is pregnant. With Dante’s child.
She already stole two years of my life and now... this.
Is she going to steal the chance for me to make Dante a father for the first time too?
How am I supposed to survive this?
Dante sets the phone down and cups my face in both hands.
His eyes lock onto mine.
“Even if it’s true, it changes nothing between us. I love you, Valeria.”
His voice is low. Almost pleading. As though he can already feel me slipping away.
The man I love may be having a child with the woman who tried to kill me.
My chest tightens. My breathing fractures.
A child.
They’ll be bound together forever.
Something I’ll never be able to erase. Never replace.
“Valeria. Look at me.”
I do. And that’s a mistake. Because I see everything.
His love. His panic. His terror of losing me again.
And none of it changes the pain crushing me, because pain doesn’t ask permission.
“I love you, do you hear me?”
He kisses me desperately.
As though his mouth can hold together something already breaking apart.
But it’s too late.
Something shifts inside me. Enough that suddenly I can’t breathe right anymore.
I pull free from his arms.
“Leave me alone. I need to be by myself. Besides, you have an emergency to deal with. The mother of your child is waiting for you.”
I know exactly where to strike. I do it anyway.
“Valeria, please. Don’t do this.”
I don’t answer. I walk into my room.
My movements become precise, mechanical—my body continuing while my mind refuses to follow.
Without thinking, I dial a number.
There’s only one person I call when everything falls apart.
“Come get me.”
My voice breaks on the last word.
“Don’t move. I’m coming.”
I hang up. I pull on my coat beneath Dante’s helpless gaze.
He follows me in silence. He watches me like a man seeing something slip through his fingers and not knowing how to reach out without frightening it away.
As Hugo’s car pulls into the driveway, I open the front door.
“Wait, Valeria. Give me two minutes.”
The pain in his voice nearly breaks me. I stop on the threshold.
“I love you,” he says. “I never stopped loving you. I would give anything for you to stay, but you’re right—this isn’t my choice to make. Too many people have already taken that choice away from you.”
His voice grows slightly unsteady.
“I won’t be here when you come back, but whatever you decide, I will always love you. I... I understand that this baby changes everything for you.”
He lowers his gaze for a moment.
“I understand that you may never be able to live with this.”
Silence stretches between us.
“And I will never ask you to sacrifice your happiness to keep me.”
His words shatter me.
I don’t turn around.
He doesn’t need to see my tears.
And I close the door behind me.