CHAPTER ONE Rafael
CHAPTER ONE
Rafael
“Pregnant." The word slammed into me, but Aira’s tears hit harder, her small frame shaking in my arms. I couldn’t process it fast enough—pregnant—yet all I could do was hold her while she cried. My chest tightened with emotions I hadn’t braced for. A sting of disappointment cut through me when she wept, a gnawing fear that she might resent me for this, for what was now in front of us. And still, beneath the fear, something fierce stirred—the knowledge that she was carrying my child. But that flicker of joy felt fragile, smothered by the sound of her sobs.
My stomach twisted. I couldn’t let myself feel hope, not while she broke down like this. Did she even want this? Did she want a child at all? What if she didn’t keep it? What if she decided the timing was wrong—or worse, that she didn’t want to be tied to me in that way? The thought clawed through me, leaving me raw, unsteady.
“Aira?” My voice came out rough, too low, carrying the weight of every question I didn’t want to ask. “Look at me… tell me what’s wrong. Do you… not want this?” The words hung sharp between us, a blade I was daring her to grab. It was her choice—I knew that. Whatever she decided, I’d have to live with it. But the thought of her rejecting me, rejecting our child, cut deeper than anything I’d ever faced.
She looked up at me, her eyes puffy, rimmed red, swimming with confusion and sorrow. “I made peace with it, you know…” Her voice cracked as the words slipped out.“I grieved a long time—for the idea of never having children. It was a dream I buried. I told myself I was fine with it, and with the twins… I thought that was enough. That it was as close as I’d ever get to being a mother.”
She drew in a shaky breath, her fingers clutching at me as if to steady herself. “I didn’t plan this. I never expected it. Rafael, when I told you I couldn’t conceive, I meant it. I believed it. I was told I couldn’t. He made sure I knew—made sure I believed I was broken.” Her voice faltered, but she pushed on, desperate. “You have to believe me. I know what it means in your family, how you’ve cautioned the boys about this. But I would never lie to you—especially not about something like this. I never thought it was possible. For me, it was just a lost dream.”
Her eyes searched mine, pleading for trust.
The words felt like a harsh blow I wasn’t prepared for. Did she think that I believed she’d done this to trap me? That she’d schemed her way into this? I knew Aira better than that. She was one of the few people in my life who never wanted anything from me. If anything, she’d given more than she ever took. To hear her doubt my faith in her—it hurt.
I pulled back slightly, the sting sharp in my chest. This should have been a moment of light between us, a new life we created together. Instead, it was buried under doubt, fear, and an accusation she hadn’t meant to make but that I still felt. My heart sank. Did she really think I wanted to run from this? From her?
I cupped her face gently, tilting her chin until her eyes met mine. “Aira… do you regret it?” The question burned on my tongue. “Do you think this is a mistake?” My voice barely carried, raw with the fear of her answer.
She searched my eyes as if she could strip me bare and see the truth inside. The silence stretched, heavy, unbearable, until she finally spoke.
“I wanted this for so long,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It was the dream I buried deep, one I never believed I’d touch. I never thought I’d be here—like this. But it’s everything I ever wanted.” Her eyes softened, and for the first time since we found out, I saw a flicker of calm in her expression.
“So… you’re keeping it?” Relief and uncertainty collided in me, tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart. Was this what she meant? Was she ready to let this child grow inside her—our child?
Aira hesitated. Her breath hitched as her hand drifted to her stomach, protective and instinctive, the simple gesture making my chest tighten.
“Rafael,” she breathed, her voice low, careful. “I know you’ve made peace with not wanting more children. And I respect that. You’re under no obligation—to me or to this baby.”
Her hand trembled against her abdomen, but her eyes held a quiet strength. “There are no expectations I have of you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But… I want this child.”
“Expectations? Obligations?” My chest tightened, confusion giving way to frustration. Did she really think I could walk away—from her, from our child?
“Why are you making this so damn difficult, Pigeon?” I pulled her closer, my words rough, unfiltered. “It’s with you that I even felt anything close to a family of my own. You have no idea what this means to me.”
My hand pressed firmly against her stomach, against the warmth of the life we created. My voice cracked under the weight of it. “Having a child is one thing—but creating life with someone you love?” I shook my head, unable to contain the truth any longer. “That’s something I never thought I’d get. I want it, Aira. I want you. I want this baby.” I leaned in, my words low, urgent. “I want the responsibility, the expectations, the joy, the pain—all of it. With you. I want to build this family.”
Aira’s face twisted, tears spilling even as a smile broke through—something caught between relief and joy. A sob tore from her chest, but it wasn’t the same as before; this one carried years of buried grief, spilling out to make room for something new. She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as if I could shield her from everything that had led us here.
Then she pulled back, her tear-streaked face softening into a hesitant, radiant smile. She pressed her lips to mine—gentle at first, then deeper, hungrier, as though neither of us could hold back anymore.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, she whispered, “We’re having a baby.”
My hand found her stomach, the words sinking into me like a truth too big to grasp. “We’re having a baby, Pigeon,” I echoed, the disbelief tangled with awe.
Heat surged through me, fierce and unstoppable. I kissed her again, harder this time, pouring everything into it—the fear, the relief, the need. The world outside dissolved. There was only her, only us, and the life we had just created. I lifted her into my arms, letting my hands secure her as if she could slip away if I faltered. Without a word, we moved toward the bedroom, her legs winding around me instinctively. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in a quiet, private world.
As I laid her down, the air between us thickened with the heat of our shared choice, our shared urgency. She was mine. This child—our child—was ours.
And in that moment, I surrendered to the craving that had been building inside me, fierce and relentless. Every ounce of me ached for her, and for the life we had just begun together.
