Three months had passed since Lady Serena's pregnancy had become public knowledge. As expected, Sir Caspian wasted no time—he spread the news across every corner of their noble circles with a smug grin, wearing his pride like armor. Whispers swirled in response: It's impossible, they claimed. She must have cheated. Yet Caspian merely laughed.
"We'll see when the baby is born," he would say, voice laced with confidence that only enraged his rivals further.
No one, of course,no one knew the truth.
Inside the quiet estate far from the glare of curious eyes, Serena had grown into her role as an expectant mother. Her appetite flourished; she now finished an entire plate more than her usual portions. And as for her and Caelis... they had grown inseparable.
There was nothing grand or flashy about their closeness—no public declarations or passionate embraces. But when they sat beside each other, the silence between them bloomed with warmth. A brush of her fingers on his sleeve, the way his eyes softened when she entered the room—it was enough to stir envy in the hearts of poets. As their servant, I was simply honored to witness it all. To serve them both felt like a blessing.
But not everything was as serene as it appeared.
"Bleeccchhh!"
A retching sound erupted from the bathroom.
Caelis emerged moments later, gripping the doorframe, his face drained of color. His legs trembled beneath him.
"This weak body," he muttered, voice cracking. "It can't even handle a pregnancy…"
Jason, kneeling loyally at his feet like a concerned pup, looked up with sympathy. "My poor master…"
"Poor master my ass," Serena scoffed from the couch without looking up from her book. "I'm the one pregnant—and eating for two! Why is your body the one reacting?"
"Don't talk about food," Caelis whimpered before sprinting back to the bathroom, retching once again.
Jason flailed. "What do we do?! He's fading away!"
Their morning continued in similar chaos—bickering, vomiting, sighing—until Caelis collapsed into bed, completely bedridden. His skin was flushed with fever, lips dry, and body weak from dehydration. He lay unconscious, breathing shallowly, while Serena sat beside him, brows furrowed with rare worry.
"…What do I do now?" she murmured aloud, brushing a strand of his damp hair away.
Her hand found his. She squeezed gently.
"If I could… I would've gotten rid of this child long ago. But…" Her voice dropped, nearly cracking. "You were so happy. You smiled when I told you. How can I break your heart now…?"
She remained by his side the entire day, eyes never leaving him.
Another month passed.
Thankfully, Caelis no longer suffered morning sickness, and Serena's belly began to show—small but undeniable. The two walked daily in the gardens, their pace slow, their conversations quiet but frequent. Sometimes Serena would kiss his cheek, quick and unannounced. Caelis never resisted, though his ears flushed red each time.
Serena had become unexpectedly bold—healthier, more radiant, and shockingly possessive. Any sign of fatigue from Caelis, and she'd scold him fiercely. He'd groan, mutter under his breath, but listen anyway. He began to take better care of himself—eating on time, dressing warmer, drinking his tea—thanks to her relentless nagging.
Their laughter began to echo around the estate. Sometimes, even maids from the main mansion would sneak over just to "rest" in the warm atmosphere. The main house had become too cold, too joyless. This smaller villa, where love bloomed in the simplest gestures, was a refuge.
Everyone had noticed Lady Serena's change. Her voice was softer. Her eyes, gentler. Her gaze lingered too long on Caelis. But no one dared speak of it.
Everything was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Until Caspian returned once more.
Serena no longer trembled.
The moment Caspian stepped into the villa's yard, the soft air changed. Cold. Dense. Tense.
For the first time, instead of flinching or retreating, Serena stepped forward—placing herself firmly in front of Caelis, shielding him like a lioness with her cub. Her eyes, wide with fury, glared up at the man who used to break her. Her voice rang out sharp, furious:
"What did you come here for again?"
Caspian smirked at the defiance, slow and smug as ever.
"Serena, don't forget. You're still legally my wife... and that's my baby."
"Hah."
That was all she said. But her eyes—her face—told more than words ever could. Rage. Pain. Contempt. And more than all of it—determination.
She had someone to protect now. She couldn't scream at him. Couldn't rip him apart the way she wanted. But her silence was louder than any threat.
Caspian's gaze shifted—and then landed on Caelis, barely visible behind her. Serena had stepped back a little as if to shield him better, instinctively hiding him from view like a beast hiding her injured mate.
That was when Caspian froze. Just a moment.
Then he laughed.
"Another pawn," he chuckled low. His eyes glinted in amusement. "Little brother, your estate is so full of pawns… Hahahaha!"
He laughed manically as the rest of us watched in suffocating silence. No one moved.
Finally, his laughter died.
"Well, Serena—" he said, wiping the edge of his lip. "You're coming with me."
"What!? Why!?" she snapped.
"There's a party," he drawled casually, his tone growing darker with every word. "I need people to see that you're pregnant. We'll make the announcement there. I can't wait to see their ugly faces burn."
"What the hell—? I'm not going!" Serena barked.
Caspian sighed.
He pulled out his gun.
Just like that.
"Serena," he said softly, voice smooth as poison. "You don't want me killing my little brother right in front of you… do you?"
The air cracked.
Serena froze.
This bastard…
Her jaw clenched. Without another word, she took one step forward. Then another.
But before she could go far, a pale hand reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.
Caelis.
Still weak, still pale, seated on his wheelchair—but he looked up at her with eyes full of silent ache. His fingers trembled as he held her back.
Serena turned. Their eyes met. He didn't say a word.
"I'm fine now."
She said it gently, her voice trembling only slightly.
Caelis didn't protest. But the look in his eyes said everything.
He released her hand… slowly.
And just like that, she was gone.
Two weeks passed.
Two weeks, and Lady Serena hadn't returned.
Each day, Caelis wheeled himself to the edge of the villa, eyes searching the path from the main mansion to the outer estate. Each day, he stared in silence, hoping.
Some days, he played the piano. As if the notes themselves could call her back. As if she might hear him and return.
She didn't.
Not the first week.
Not the second.
But in the third week… when the sky cracked open with a heavy storm and the rain poured like grief—
A silhouette emerged on the road.
Serena.
Soaked to the bone, dress clinging to her legs, hair sticking to her face, she ran—ran through the downpour like a soul freed from hell.
I rushed to the villa at once.
"Master Caelis—! She's here!"
But Caelis was already at the door.
Calm. Pale. Quiet.
He wheeled himself out, eyes searching for her.
And then—
She burst through the door.
Their eyes met.
Serena rushed forward, soaked and shaking, tears and rain indistinguishable. She didn't speak. She didn't hesitate.
She collapsed into his arms, hugging him tightly as if she'd finally made it home.
Caelis said nothing. His arms moved slowly, gently, wrapping around her soaked form.
He stroked her pink hair softly. His fingers brushed over her face, cupping her cheeks. His thumbs traced the droplets near her eyes—whether rain or tears, no one knew.
He stared at her—memorizing every inch of her face. Every part of her. As if afraid this moment would disappear too.