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Chapter 100 – Damon's POV
"A Surprise, a Storm, and a Very Strange Craving"
I had everything planned.
Candles.
Her favorite fuzzy blanket.
Liam's sleepover at Amara's place.
A soft playlist of classical piano music she listened to while painting.
Tonight was supposed to be quiet, calm… special. Just the two of us.
Arya had been doing better—smiling more, humming again, even teasing me about my graying hair. And after all the storms we'd weathered, I wanted tonight to remind her that she was still my queen. Not just the mother of my children or the woman carrying my baby — but my Arya.
I lit the candles just as I heard her footsteps upstairs. I smiled and called out, "Babe, you might want to come down!"
No response.
Then I heard it — the dreaded silence followed by… a groan.
"Damon!" she yelled.
I froze mid-step.
Oh no.
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I found her in the hallway, hands on her hips, her face twisted into a deep scowl.
"I want mango blueberry lasagna pudding with chicken and chips," she said.
I blinked.
"…What?"
"You heard me," she snapped. "And not just mango pudding — it has to be warm. The blueberries should be slightly frozen for contrast. The lasagna must be cheesy. And the chicken must be fried with chips on the side. Salty chips. Not sweet potato ones like last time."
I stared.
Then blinked again.
"That… sounds like something a villain in a food cartoon would eat."
She narrowed her eyes. "Did you just call me a villain?"
"No, no, never, I—"
"Because I can be one!" she snapped, tears pooling suddenly. "You know what? Forget it. I'll just starve. I knew you wouldn't understand."
"Wait, wait, what just happened?"
She turned dramatically and began waddling back toward the room, muttering under her breath, "Should've asked Liam. At least he would've tried."
Oh boy.
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Fifteen minutes later, I was in the car, making calls like a madman.
"Hi, yes. Do you have mango blueberry pudding? No? How about lasagna? Wait — do you combine them?"
The person hung up.
The next place didn't even take me seriously.
By the fourth call, I was practically begging.
I ended up ordering the pudding from a bakery 25 minutes away, lasagna from an Italian restaurant in another district, and chicken and chips from a drive-thru that knew me by name at this point.
The cashier grinned. "Another craving run, sir?"
"Don't ask."
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By the time I got back home, I was holding three separate takeout bags and balancing a slightly melting pudding tray on my elbow.
I walked into the house like a soldier returning from war.
Arya was curled up on the couch, pouting — blanket over her head like a burrito.
I cleared my throat. "Delivery for Her Royal Highness."
She peeked from under the blanket. "You got all of it?"
"Yes."
She sat up slowly, suspicious. "Even the mango-blueberry-lasagna-pudding-chicken-and-chips combo?"
I placed each container in front of her with a flourish.
She stared.
Then sniffled.
Then burst into tears.
I panicked. "What now? What happened?!"
"I just…" she sobbed. "I didn't expect you to actually get it. You love me that much?"
I blinked again. "I thought that was obvious. But yes. I love you enough to battle traffic and judgmental restaurant staff for the weirdest food combination in history."
She laughed through her tears, digging in. "You forgot the mustard dip."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
"…I'm joking," she said, giggling.
I collapsed onto the couch beside her and let out a long sigh of relief. "Woman, you are going to be the end of me."
She leaned into my side, mouth full. "That's the goal."
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As she munched happily and I rested my head back against the couch, I realized something:
This — the chaos, the cravings, the mood swings, the ridiculous meals — this was love.
Not the polished, perfect love we imagined when we first met.
But the messy, real, hilarious, sometimes maddening kind.
The kind where you fight, fall apart, rebuild… and still show up.
Still stay.
Still love.
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Later, when she finished half the meal and offered me a bite of the lasagna-pudding combination (which I politely declined), she turned to me and smiled.
"You're the only man who's ever made me feel safe enough to be crazy."
I wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. "You're not crazy. You're pregnant. You're glowing. And I'm obsessed with you."
"You're just saying that so I don't make you go back out."
"…Partly."
We both laughed.
And for once, everything felt light again.
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End of Chapter 100 – Damon's POV