My fingers tighten around the phone 155

Aria’s POV
A week had slipped by since I’d clawed my way back from death’s edge, each day bringing more strength but also more
restlessness as the hospital’s sterile walls closed in around me. The antiseptic smell, the endless beeping, the scratchy
sheets—all of it would have been unbearable without Ethan’s unwavering presence.
This morning, I awoke to find him exactly where he’d been every dawn since I’d opened my eyes—in that ridiculous
plastic chair that creaked in protest whenever he shifted his powerful frame. His long legs were stretched awkwardly
before him, one hand still tangled with mine atop the thin blanket. Even unconscious, his fingers maintained their gentle
grip, as though some part of him remained vigilant, afraid I might fade away if he fully let go. His chest rose and fell in
deep, steady rhythms, and a lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, making him look younger. I resisted the urge
to brush it back, selfishly savoring this unguarded moment when I could admire him without his knowing, this man who
had become my anchor in ways neither of us had imagined possible just weeks ago.
As if sensing my gaze, Ethan’s eyes fluttered open, immediately finding mine with an intensity that sent warmth flooding
through me.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice husky with sleep. His fingers tightened around mine. “How long have you been awake?”
“Not long,” I murmured, smiling softly. “You looked peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He stretched, wincing as his muscles protested the uncomfortable sleeping position. In one fluid motion, he moved from
the chair to perch on the edge of my bed, careful not to jostle me. His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from my
face, his touch lingering on my cheek.
“How are you feeling this morning?” The concern in his voice made my heart constrict.
“Better,” I assured him, leaning into his touch. “The pain is mostly gone. Just tired and ready to leave this place.”
Ethan’s answering smile was tinged with relief. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “Soon,” he
promised, his breath warm against my lips. “The doctor said maybe tomorrow, if your bloodwork comes back clear.”
I closed the minuscule distance between us, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. His response was immediate, his hand
sliding to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. The kiss remained tender, mindful of my still-healing
body, but contained a promise of passion to come that made my pulse quicken.
When we finally parted, his eyes had darkened to that mesmerizing shade that made my stomach flutter. “I’ll never get
tired of that,” he murmured, tracing the curve of my lower lip with his thumb.
“Good,” I whispered against his finger. “Because I intend to do it quite often.”
These moments of tenderness had become our sanctuary in the chaos of recovery and revelations. Yet I couldn’t help
noticing how sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t looking, shadows would cross Ethan’s face. His hand would freeze mid-caress, his expression crumpling as if struck by a physical blow. In those moments, I knew he was remembering that
night six years ago, torturing himself with guilt despite everything I’d told him.
Like now—his gaze had drifted to the window, his fingers unconsciously pulling away from mine as his other hand rose to
grip his hair in that familiar gesture of self-recrimination.
“Hey,” I called softly, reaching for his retreating hand and pulling it back into mine. “Where did you go just now?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his jaw working as he struggled with whatever dark thought had captured him. “I just—”
he started, then shook his head. “I still can’t forgive myself for what happened that night.”
A sigh escaped me, part exasperation, part tenderness. “You know, for such a smart Alpha, you can be remarkably dense
sometimes.”
His eyes snapped to mine, surprise momentarily displacing the guilt.
“Come here,” I instructed, tugging him closer until he reluctantly complied, sitting beside me again. I laced our fingers
together, holding his gaze intently.
“I’ve seen what happened that night, Ethan. The Moon Goddess showed me everything. There was no violation, no
crime.” My voice softened further. “If anything, we should be grateful that of all the men in the world, it was my true mate who found me that night. Do you understand what a blessing that is? That Lucas’s father isn’t some stranger, but you?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but progress nonetheless. “When you put it that way…”
1/3
“Exactly,” I said, squeezing his hand. “So no more of this brooding, all right? We’ve lost enough time to regrets and
misunderstandings.”
A genuine smile finally broke through. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, bringing our joined hands to his lips. The brush of his
mouth against my knuckles sent a pleasant shiver through me.
“Besides,” I added with a hint of mischief, “I much prefer when you use your mouth for kissing rather than frowning.”
His laugh—deep and rich—wrapped around me like a physical embrace. “Is that so?” he asked, leaning closer. “I’d be
happy to demonstrate my versatility.”
The kiss that followed was less restrained than before, heat blooming between us until the beeping of my heart monitor
grew embarrassingly rapid. Ethan pulled back with a smirk, eyeing the machine with obvious male satisfaction.
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“Don’t look so smug,” I chided, though I couldn’t keep the smile from my voice. “That thing would probably explode if
you really tried.”
“Challenge accepted,” he murmured against my ear, sending goosebumps racing down my neck. “Once you’re home.”
Before I could voice, a knock at the door interrupted us.
Ethan straightened, though he didn’t release my hand as he called, “Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal Lucas, practically vibrating with excitement as he bounded into the room, followed by
Zoe who gave us an apologetic smile.
“Sorry,” she mouthed. “He couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Mom!” Lucas exclaimed, rushing to my bedside with barely contained energy. He stopped short, remembering the
nurse’s warnings about being gentle, and approached more cautiously. His bright green eyes—so like Ethan’s it still
startled me—darted between my face and my belly before he carefully climbed onto the edge of the bed.
“I knew you’d wake up,” he declared, his small face serious. “I told you stories every day so you wouldn’t forget to come
back. Ethan said you could hear me, even when you were sleeping.”
My heart swelled with love for this perfect, precious child—our child. I reached out to smooth his unruly hair, marveling
at how much older he seemed after just a week. Had the ordeal matured him, or was I just seeing him differently now,
looking for Ethan’s features in his face?
“I heard every word,” I assured him, pulling him gently against my side.
Ethan lifted Lucas effortlessly, settling him more comfortably on the bed beside me. “Careful with your mom, buddy,” he
cautioned, though his tone held nothing but warmth.
Lucas wiggled closer, his small body warm against mine as he reached out with tentative fingers to touch first my face,
then my stomach. “Mom and my sisters,” he whispered, so softly I barely caught it. “Gotta protect them both.”
My eyes met Ethan’s over Lucas’s head, a smile spreading across my face. The fierce protective instinct, the natural
leadership—Lucas truly was his father’s son. How had I not seen it before?
The three of us nestled together like puzzle pieces finally finding their place—strange yet somehow perfect. Lucas’s
animated chatter about his week filled the room, but beneath his excitement, I felt the weight of our unspoken truth
growing heavier. When Ethan’s eyes met mine over Lucas’s head, I saw the question there and knew it was time.
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With a barely perceptible nod, I gave Ethan the signal. He scooped Lucas off the bed, earning a dramatic pout that made
his little bottom lip stick out in perfect miniature indignation.
“Hey, I was comfortable!” Lucas protested, wriggling dramatically.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I patted the space beside me. “Sweetheart, come here for a second. Mommy and
Ethan need to tell you something special.”
Lucas’s expression transformed instantly from pouting to curiosity. He slipped his warm little hand into mine, those big
green eyes growing wide and attentive.
“Is it about the twins?” he whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer.
“No, honey,” I said, my voice threatening to break. I glanced at Ethan, drawing strength from his encouraging nod. “It’s
about you. And Ethan.”
I took a steadying breath, choosing my words with care. “Remember how I always told you we were perfect just the two
of us? That we didn’t need anyone else in our special family?”
Lucas nodded, his gaze bouncing between us with growing intrigue.
“Well,” I continued, my voice softening, “sometimes life surprises us with wonderful things we never expected.” I
squeezed his tiny fingers. “Ethan isn’t just our… special friend. He’s actually your daddy. Your real daddy.”
Lucas froze, his little brow furrowing adorably as he processed this information. The silence stretched for three rapid
beats of my heart before he turned those penetrating eyes toward Ethan.
“My for-real daddy?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy. “Like, you made me with Mommy?”
2/3
Ethan knelt down, somehow making his towering frame appear gentle as he met Lucas at eye level. “Yes, buddy. You’ve
been my little wolf all along. I just didn’t know until very recently.”
Lucas’s lips pursed thoughtfully, creating that heart-melting dimple in his right cheek. Then his eyes narrowed in a perfect
miniature of Ethan’s serious expression.
“If you’re my real daddy,” he asked, voice tiny but clear, “how come you weren’t with