A full week passed.
The distance did not close. If anything, it grew.
Alaric still came home. He still checked on Nathaniel. He still asked Daphne if she had eaten, if she was tired, if she needed anything.
But that was all.
They did not talk beyond what was necessary. No late-night conversations. No laughter. No stolen kisses.
Daphne did not push him. She carried too much guilt to demand peace and Alaric did not confront her. Not because he did not feel it, but because he did and he knew if he spoke now, his jealousy would spill out sharp and ugly.
He knew he would say things he could not take back. So he chose silence instead.
It was safer. Or so he told himself.
.
.
The morning Nathaniel turned one month old, Daphne had just finished nursing him when the door opened.
Katherine stepped in.
"You look much better," she said gently.
Daphne smiled faintly. "I feel better too."
Katherine walked closer. "Postpartum wise?"
