Dinner was done. Rachel had been bathed, kissed, and tucked into bed with her bunny and a blanket cocoon of her own making. Lucas had disappeared into the balcony for a late-night call, leaving Bella to fold the laundry she'd ignored for two days.
She didn't mind. The quiet helped.
She was humming under her breath as she stepped into the bedroom, lifting a small pile of clothes from the basket on the armchair. Lucas's clothes were mixed in—mostly jackets and dark dress shirts, barely wrinkled. Of course.
As she pulled a blazer from the bottom of the pile to check the label, something heavy shifted in the inner lining. Curious, she reached into the hidden pocket.
Her fingers brushed cool metal.
She stilled.
Slowly, carefully, she drew it out—heart suddenly hammering against her ribs.
It was a gun.
Matte black. Compact. Unmistakable.
Bella froze, the room around her falling utterly silent. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until her lungs burned.
Why? Why would Lucas—a man who wore suits and made soup and read bedtime stories—have this?
Her hands began to shake. She heard the balcony door click shut.
Moments later, footsteps approached.
Lucas stepped into the room, tugging off his watch, eyes still distant from whatever conversation he'd just ended—until he saw her.
Standing by the bed. Holding the gun. His entire posture changed. He stilled. 'How can he forget to hide this damn gun?' was the only question revolving in his mind.
The air grew taut.
"Bella—" he started, then stopped. His eyes flicked to the weapon in her hands, then back to her face.
"I wasn't snooping," she said, voice quiet but brittle. "I was just collecting clothes for the laundry and I—I didn't mean to—"
Lucas stepped forward calmly, hands open. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."
She stared at him. "Why do you have a gun?"
He exhaled slowly. "It's licensed. Legal. Registered under my name."
"That's not what I asked."
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly choosing his words with care. "Because I'm a public figure. I run businesses in multiple countries. That comes with attention. Threats sometimes. Security's necessary."
Bella didn't move. "So this is normal for you? Why did you never tell me before?"
He hesitated for just a beat too long. And that silence made something inside her twist.
"It's not normal. But I didn't want to scare you," he said. "Or make you feel unsafe. I never wanted that. That's why I never told you about this."
She placed the gun down on the bed gently, like it might go off if she breathed too hard.
"Lucas," she said, her voice firmer now, "I don't care what your reasons are. You cannot keep a gun in this house."
He frowned slightly. "It was locked—"
"Rachel is here," she cut in. "Our child is growing inside me. What if she had found it instead of me?"
Lucas looked down at the weapon. His jaw flexed. But when he lifted his gaze, something softer had returned to his expression.
"You're right," he said simply.
Bella blinked.
"I'll move it," he added. "Somewhere else. Somewhere... inaccessible. Completely."
"You'll remove it," she corrected quietly. "From this house."
Lucas held her gaze. Then nodded. "Alright."
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The tension hadn't disappeared entirely—it had simply shifted.
Bella looked at him, really looked, and suddenly realized... there were parts of him still walled off. Parts he hadn't let her see.
And now, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
The house was still.
Even the wind outside had quieted, as though it too sensed the tension that had simmered earlier between them. The gun was gone—Lucas had taken it out immediately after their talk, said nothing, just returned after twenty minutes without a word.
Now they lay in bed, with their backs turned to each other, the bedside lamp casting a soft golden glow across the sheets. Rachel was asleep in her room for once, and silence had stretched between them like a fragile thread neither wanted to pull.
Bella turned toward him slowly. "Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn't found it today?"
Lucas looked over, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. "No."
The honesty caught her off guard.
"I wasn't going to lie," he added after a pause. "But I wouldn't have brought it up. Not unless I had to."
Bella nodded slightly. "Because it's normal for you."
"It's not ideal. But yes," he said. "Big positions come with a lot of enemies. It's a part of my world I didn't want to drag you into."
"I don't want Rachel anywhere near that kind of danger, Lucas. I grew up fearing the unknown. I won't let her live in a house full of it."
"You won't have to," he said quietly. "I'll never let anything touch her. Or you."
She looked at him then, really looked—and there was no mask this time. Just a man who had learned how to carry secrets like armor. And yet, somehow, had let her in anyway.
"I don't know who you really are sometimes," she whispered.
He exhaled, looking in her eyes. "Sometimes I don't either."
That answer could've scared her. But it didn't. Because for all his shadows, Lucas hadn't once made her feel small, or helpless, or unloved—even if he hadn't said the words aloud.
She shifted slowly beneath the covers and lay down, her back to him. "Will you hold me?"
There was a heartbeat of silence.
Then the sheets rustled as he lay behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist gently—no urgency, no expectation. Just presence.
She relaxed into him. His breath was warm against her neck. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "For scaring you."
Bella reached down, brushing her fingers over his hand where it rested on her stomach. "Don't disappear from me, Lucas. Not like that. If something happens, I want to know."
His fingers curled around hers. "You scare me more than any gun ever could."
She smiled faintly. "Is that your way of saying you care?"
"It's my way of saying I don't sleep this peacefully anywhere else."
She let herself breathe into that silence. Her body, tired. Her mind, quiet.
The past still lingered. Questions still hovered. But in this moment, his warmth felt like a promise—not of forever, but of now. And as her eyes fluttered closed, she realized she wasn't scared anymore.
Not of the gun.
Not of Lucas.
Not of the future.
Because somehow, against every odd—this felt like home.