Alessandro’s hand rested lightly on Amara’s back as they walked toward her room.
Amara held Vaughn’s small hand in hers.
From the back, they looked like perfect family.
When they reached the door, Vaughn first entered the room.
Amara paused in the doorway, glancing back at Alessandro. His eyes held a tenderness that should have comforted her, but all it did was deepen the ache inside her chest.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t have the strength to say more, to delve into the complexities of gratitude mixed with guilt.
Alessandro smiled softly, that warm, kind smile that had always put her at ease. “No problem. It’s my duty,” he replied, his voice filled with a sincerity that made her want to cry. He was everything she should want-a good man, steady and reliable. He was the safe choice, the right choice. And yet…
Before she could react, Alessandro leaned forward, closing the distance between them. His lips pressed gently against her forehead.
Amara stood frozen for a moment after Alessandro kissed her forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering on her skin. The gesture was soft, almost too soft, as if he was afraid she might shatter if he pressed too hard.
His affection was a gentle warmth, the kind that soothed but never ignited.
She stepped back slightly, putting distance between them, not out of discomfort but because she needed space.. space to breathe, to think, to separate herself from the growing tension that had been suffocating her all evening.
“Good night,” she murmured, her voice steady, though her heart was anything but.
Alessandro nodded.. but hesitated for a second, then gave her a small, understanding smile before turning and walking away.
Amara watched him go, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night, each step taking him further away from the truth she was too afraid to confront.
With a sigh, she closed the door and locked it, the click of the lock echoing in the silent room. It was a small barrier, but it made her feel slightly more in control.
She leaned against the door for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before she turned to check on Vaughn. He was already in bed, snuggled under the covers, his wide, innocent eyes watching her with a quiet intensity that never failed to catch her off guard.
Amara walked over and settled into bed beside him, the room was dark except for the sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore outside the window created a soothing rhythm, but even that couldn’t calm the storm brewing inside her.
“Mommy…” Vaughn’s soft voice broke the silence, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts.
“Yes, baby?” she replied, turning to face him. His little face was serious, his brow furrowed as if he was grappling with something far beyond his years.
“Mommy… don’t marry Alessandro Uncle,” he said quietly, his words careful, as if he was testing the waters of a conversation he wasn’t sure he should be having.
Amara’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. Out of all the things he could have said, this was the last thing she expected.
Her thoughts stumbled over themselves as she tried to process his words. Why would he say something like that? Was it something he overheard, or was it just a child’s intuition? or perhaps did he not like Alessandro..
“Why, baby?” she asked softly, trying to keep her voice even. “He’s a good man.”
Vaughn was silent for a moment, his small hands fiddling with the edge of the blanket. His eyes, so much like Rowan’s, searched hers as if trying to find the right way to explain. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and deliberate, each one weighted with a certainty that only a child could possess.
“It’s not like that,” Vaughn said, shaking his head slightly. “He’s good… but you deserve better.”
Amara let out a soft chuckle, the sound more a reflex than genuine amusement. “Oh, then who do I deserve?” she asked, half-expecting him to name a favorite character from one of his storybooks.
But Vaughn’s response was far from playful. He met her gaze with those deep brown eyes that were so unnervingly similar to Rowan’s, and in that moment, she saw not just her son, but the man who had been haunting her thoughts, the man who she couldn’t seem to escape no matter how hard she tried.
“It’s… Rowan Uncle,” Vaughn said finally, his voice as steady as if he was stating a simple fact. “He feels… better, Mommy.”
Amara’s breath caught again, and this time, the air felt thick in her lungs, heavy with unspoken truths and silent emotions. She stared at Vaughn, her heart pounding in her chest as the weight of his words settled over her like a suffocating blanket.
How could he say that? How could he possibly know? He was just a child, yet his innocent observation cut through her defenses with the precision of a blade… as he if knew what was going on…
Rowan. The name alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine, a name that held so much power over her, a name that had come to symbolize everything she had tried so hard to avoid.
Rowan had a way of getting under her skin and making her question everything she thought she knew about herself. He was the embodiment of everything she feared and everything she craved, wrapped up in a dangerous package that was impossible to resist.
She hated him for the way he made her feel, for the way he seemed to take pleasure in unraveling her carefully constructed life, piece by piece. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull he had over her, the magnetic force that kept drawing her back to him, no matter how hard she fought against it.
Amara looked at Vaughn and asked, “He feels better..??”