---
Chapter 76 – Arya's POV
"The Heart Sees Clearly"
Damon was pacing again.
Not that fast, nervous kind of pacing. No, his steps were slow. Measured. His arms were folded across his chest, and his jaw was locked — that was always the first sign something was eating at him. The same way he got when he was hiding something.
Something big.
I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing lotion into my belly — which now seemed to be expanding by the hour — and watched him from the corner of my eye.
Three turns across the room.
A glance at his phone.
A sigh.
Yeah. He was definitely carrying something.
I gave it a few more seconds before finally setting the lotion aside and speaking up.
"Okay, spill."
He paused. "What?"
"Whatever is bothering you, Damon. You've been pacing for the past ten minutes like the floor insulted your ancestors."
He stopped mid-step and looked at me, eyes tired.
"I'm fine."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not fine. You've got that 'I'm holding a secret that's about to ruin my mood all week' look on your face."
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly debating whether or not to say it.
"Damon…"
He sighed. "It's Ethan."
My stomach tensed. "What about him?"
"And Amara."
I blinked. "What about them?"
He exhaled deeply, like the words physically hurt to say. "They're dating."
I tilted my head. "You're just finding that out?"
His head snapped up. "You knew?!"
I tried not to laugh. "Damon, I'm pregnant, not blind. I've seen the way they look at each other for weeks. Plus, Amara basically glows when she talks about him."
He stared at me like I had two heads. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I was waiting for you to figure it out. Or for Ethan to grow a backbone and tell you himself."
He muttered something under his breath and sank onto the chair beside the bed. His fingers ran through his hair, frustrated and tired. "I don't like it."
"I gathered."
"He has a past, Arya. A messy one. He's not… steady. Not the kind of guy I imagined Amara with."
I reached out and took his hand, gently pulling him closer. "Damon, you and I both have pasts. Doesn't mean we're not capable of love."
"This is different."
"Is it?"
He looked at me, clearly searching for something — permission, maybe. Or reassurance.
"She's my baby sister, Arya. I raised her when our parents checked out. I protected her when I couldn't even protect myself. I don't want her hurt."
"And you think Ethan will hurt her?"
He hesitated. "I don't know."
I smiled softly. "But I do."
He frowned.
I squeezed his hand. "I know Ethan. And I've seen the way he's changed. It's subtle, but it's real. The old Ethan would've never waited this long to win someone back. He would've moved on, distracted himself. But with Amara… he's been patient. Quiet. Present."
Damon was quiet, his eyes unreadable.
"And you know what else?" I continued. "He didn't try to hide it from you. That says a lot. He came to you because he respects you — because he knows what Amara means to you."
He looked down at our joined hands. "What if he's not enough for her?"
I smiled sadly. "Then that's something she will learn. Just like I had to learn with you. And you had to learn with me."
He chuckled, low and bitter. "We were a mess."
"We are a mess. But we're a beautiful one. And now we're having a baby."
His lips curved slightly. "That still feels crazy."
"I know."
I rested a hand on his arm. "Amara's grown now, Damon. She doesn't need you to protect her from love. She needs you to support her while she experiences it."
He leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. "I just… I don't want her crying herself to sleep. I don't want her doubting if she's enough."
"Then show her you believe in her," I whispered. "Believe in who she is. And believe in the man she chose."
He didn't respond for a long time.
But I saw it — the shift. The tension in his shoulders loosened. The storm in his eyes calmed. Slowly, he reached over and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
"Why do you always make sense?"
"Because I know you. And I know her. And deep down, you know I'm right."
He chuckled. "I hate that."
I grinned. "No, you don't."
---
Later that night, as we lay in bed — me curled up with pillows and him quietly reading emails on his phone — I could feel the peace settle back into the room.
Damon wasn't all the way there yet — not fully convinced, maybe. But he was trying.
And for Amara… I knew that would mean everything.
Sometimes love doesn't look like roses and grand gestures.
Sometimes, it looks like a brother sitting in silence, trying to let go of fear.
Sometimes, it looks like choosing trust, even when it scares you.
And sometimes, it's just two people — like Damon and me — learning again and again that love, in all its complicated forms, is always worth the risk.
---