The fortress quiets after a night of tension so thick it felt like steel in the air. Isabella barely slept not from fear, but from the overwhelming presence of Damian beside her. His warmth. His breathing. His scars.
Morning sunlight spills into the room, brushing over her hair as Damian watches her with tired, burning eyes.
"Isabella… about last night," he murmurs.
She raises her chin. "We need to talk about the leadership shift."
Damian's jaw tenses he hates the idea of her stepping aside, but he hates the thought of her being overworked even more.
"Look at you," he whispers, touching her stomach gently. "You're carrying our child. You shouldn't be in the frontlines of a war my father started."
Isabella closes her eyes, exhaling slowly.
"You've suffered enough. And I've been forcing myself to be unbreakable. For this baby… I can't keep leading every battle."
Damian leans his forehead against hers, relief washing over him mixed with guilt.
