Hazel sat on the edge of the bed, the small white test in her hands. The two pink lines stared back at her, unwavering, undeniable.
Positive.
Her breath hitched. A thousand thoughts stormed through her mind, each one more overwhelming than the last. She had convinced herself that the symptoms were nothing—stress, travel, anything but this. And yet, here it was. Irrefutable proof.
She was pregnant.
Her hands trembled as she set the test down on the nightstand. The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating, as if the walls were closing in. She had spent the past few weeks navigating the storm of Enzo's world, trying to keep her footing in the chaos of mafia politics, secrets, and expectations.
Now, there was no running from it.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Hazel swallowed hard before calling out, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Enzo stepped inside, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto her. He didn't need to ask. He already knew.
She saw the flicker of tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides. And then, something softer—something almost reverent—entered his expression.
"It's confirmed?" he asked quietly.
Hazel nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
Enzo exhaled slowly and stepped forward until he was kneeling in front of her. He reached out, his fingers grazing over hers before he took her hands fully, squeezing them gently. His warmth grounded her, pulling her back from the edge of panic.
"We'll figure this out," he said, his voice steady. "Together."
Hazel finally met his gaze. "Are you scared?"
"Yes," he admitted without hesitation. "But not of this. Not of you or our child. I'm afraid of what my world will try to take from us."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't want our baby growing up in fear."
Enzo's jaw tightened, his dark eyes unreadable. "Neither do I."
For a moment, they just sat there, the weight of their reality settling between them. Then, Enzo inhaled sharply, as if making a decision. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.
Hazel's breath caught.
He flipped it open, revealing a ring—a solitaire diamond, elegant yet understated, set in a platinum band.
Marrying him. Tying herself to his name, his world, forever.
She stared at the ring, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
"I know this isn't the way either of us imagined it," Enzo said, his voice low and steady. "And I know things between us have been… complicated. But I don't want to just protect you. I want to be with you. You, me, and our child. A family."
Hazel tore her gaze away from the ring and looked at him instead. Enzo Romano, the man who had thrown her life into chaos but had also made her feel something she never had before—something terrifyingly real.
But it wasn't enough.
She exhaled shakily. "No."
Enzo's expression flickered—just for a second—but he didn't let go of her hands. "No?" he echoed, as if he had misheard her.
Hazel shook her head. "I can't marry you, Enzo."
A heavy silence stretched between them.
He swallowed, his fingers tightening around hers. "Why?"
She hesitated, gathering her thoughts, her emotions. Then, softly but firmly, she said, "Because I can't spend my life with someone who could love me one night and then another woman the next."
His brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Hazel pulled her hands free and stood, pacing to the window. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." She turned to face him, crossing her arms. "Bianca."
Something shifted in Enzo's face—realization, then frustration.
"You think I slept with her?" he asked, his voice low, controlled.
Hazel scoffed. "She was in your house, Enzo. The way she acted so sure of her place here, the way she looked at me like I was the outsider." She shook her head. "I may not know all the rules of your world, but I know how women look when they think they own a man."
Enzo ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Hazel, I swear to you—I didn't touch Bianca."
She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But doubt still clung to her, whispering in her ear.
"Then why was she here?" she asked, voice softer now. "Why did she act like she belonged?"
Enzo stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Because my mother forced me to accommodate her," he said, his voice laced with irritation. "Bianca's mother is my mother's best friend. She's been pushing for a marriage alliance since we were teenagers."
Hazel blinked. "So it was arranged?"
"Not by me," Enzo said. "By them. I never agreed to it. I tolerated Bianca's presence to keep the peace with my mother, but that's all it was."
Hazel studied his face, searching for any sign of a lie. She found none.
Enzo reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't love Bianca. I never did." His hand dropped to her cheek, thumb grazing her skin. "The only woman I've ever wanted is standing right in front of me."
Hazel's throat tightened. "I just… I don't want to make a mistake."
"Then don't say yes out of fear," Enzo said gently. "Say yes when you want to."
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. "And what if I never do?"
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Then I'll wait."
Hazel exhaled shakily. "Enzo…"
He stepped back, slipping the ring box back into his pocket. "I won't push you," he said. "But know this—I'm not going anywhere. Whether we're married or not, I will be here. For you. For our baby."
Hazel felt something shift inside her—some fragile part of her heart that she had been guarding too tightly.
Maybe she wasn't ready now.
But for the first time, she wondered if, someday… she might be.