Chapter 77: Mariana's Pov

Time seems to slow down when things aren't really going your way.

Maybe I pushed too hard, too far the other night. Far enough that Alejandro has been completely ignoring me for days now. Far enough that Radimr has become ware of me, always staring at me with suspicious eyes. Far enough that the maids in this house seem to avoid me as often as they can.

To simply put, I've been living an isolated life for the past seven days.

Just me, and my heavy fucking stomach. It's dreadful just as much as it is comforting.

I'm pulled out of the daze when a towering figure stands in front of me and wraps his hand around me. "Don't look so sad, I'm just going to be away for just a few weeks, my love," Radimr whispers as he hugs me.

I thin my lips into a smile. "I'll miss you."

His smile is radiant when he replies, "I'll miss you too. Please don't over work yourself. . . or get to upset while I'm gone. I wouldn't want anything to happen to my son."

Stupid fucker.

I scoff. "I'm a big girl, Radimr."

"Of course you are," he responds just as he smacks a kiss on my lips and slides into the backseat of his car.

I stand there, one hand cradling my bump, and the other waving at him. I wave until the car has disappeared down the estate gates. Then I roll my eyes and turn on my heels, heading back inside.

Alejandro is standing by the door, eyes forward, looking into space mindlessly. "Come with me." I say on a commanding tone as I walk past him. He surprisingly follows.

The silence between us is deafening as I climb the stairs-or struggle to make it up the stairs. Alejandro walks a step behind me, the warmth of his body close to mine, too close. Like he wants to reach out and help me walk up the stairs, but his pride isn't letting him.

When we reach the second floor, I lead him down the hallway. My hand brushes against the door handle at the end of the hall, and I pause. For a brief moment, I glance over my shoulder at Alejandro. His expression is stoic, his jaw ticking.

I open the door and step inside.

Alejandro hesitates for a moment before stepping in. Then I flick the lights on. It's bright, just the right amount of bright. And it's just as beautiful. The room feels warmer than the rest of the house.

The walls are buttery yellow, and the curtains black, weaving gently with the wind. The crib sits in a corner, adorned with a mobile of tiny stars and soccer balls. The rocking chair near the window has a green throw draped over it, its softness inviting.

"We're having a boy, Alejandro," I whisper.

"I know." He replies from behind me, his tone clipped.

"I know you know, but I just wanted you to hear it from me. . ." I mutter, my heart pounding erratically against my throat.

"Why am I here, Mariana?" He asks.

My heart sinks. Still, I turn to face him with a smile, my hands instinctively cradling my bump. "What do you think?" I ask, my voice quiet, almost shy.

His gaze sweeps over the room, but his face gives nothing away. For a long moment, he says nothing, and the silence wraps around me like a vice.

Finally, he shrugs. "It's fine."

Fine. That one word feels like a slap. I swallow hard and take a step closer to him. "Just fine?" I ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

He pushes back as though wanting to create a distance between us. And that too feels like a harder slap.

"What do you want me to say, Mariana? That it's perfect? That I'm happy?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You're decorating a nursery like this is some perfect little family. But it's not. You're still married to him. You're still here."

The words sting in a way that makes my chest constrict. I heave out a shaky breath and force a smile onto my face. "I know you're angry," I mutter, my eyes on his, "but this is all I can do at the moment. I know putting together a beautiful nursery does not change our situation, but I want my son to have the best. I'm doing this for him."

Alejandro's jaw tightens, and I can see the battle raging in his mind. He wants to hold onto his anger, to push me away, but there's something else there too. Something softer. Something I need him to let surface.

I walk to the crib, my fingers brushing over the navy bedding. "See how I incorporated every piece of you in the decorations?" I ask on a lighter tone, desiring to lessen the tension. "Look at the yellow, and the green, and the sunset. . ."

I turn to him, my face bright with a smile. "You're my yellow, I'm your green, and we're a sunset."

It's faint, Alejandro's smile, but it's there. That sluggish upturn of his mouth. He shakes his head and steps closer, his eyes flickering across the room as though he's finally being receptive to the decoration.

His shoulders relax but just for a fleeting moment. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, his voice quieter but no less strained. "What's the point?"

"Because I need you to see," I say, my voice firm. "I need you to know that I'm trying. That I want this to work. For him. For us."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "It's not about what you want, Mariana. It's about him. Our son. He deserves better than this mess."

"I know," I reply quickly, my hand reaching out to touch his arm. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't soften either. "And he'll have better. I'll find a way to give him better. But I can't do it alone. I need you."

As I speak, I begin slipping the straps of my dress off my shoulders. The dress pools around my ankle and I step out, bare. Alejandro gulps, snapping his head away from me.

"What are you doing?"

"I heard it's good for the baby when the parents have skin to skin contact." I reply as I make my way to the bed-my own adult bed. I lie down and draw the duvet over myself. "Take off your clothes and join me. If you'd like."

Alejandro stiffens, his eyes fixed on the far corner of the room as though looking anywhere else will make this moment less real. His neck is pulsing erratically, his jaw clenching and unclenching as though fighting whatever is raging inside him.

I stay quiet, give him time to make his decision. To choose to either step forward or walk away.

For a long moment, he doesn't move. He just stands there, rigid, caught between anger and love. Love for his child, love for me.

"Alejandro," I whisper, my voice soft. "It's just me. It's just us."

His chest rises and falls, his eyes still not meeting mine. But then he starts to move. Slowly, his hands go to the buttons of his shirt, his fingers working precisely as he undoes each one. The shirt slips from his shoulders, revealing the strong, lean lines of his torso. He hesitates for a moment, his hand hovering at the waistband of his pants, before letting out a quiet breath and stepping out of them.

He's bare now, vulnerable, his eyes finally meeting mine. The brief, silent exchange steals my breath and I gulp.

Without a word, he crosses the room and pulls back the duvet. The mattress dips slightly as he slides in beside me, his body tense. For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of our breathing, the space between us both too small and too wide.

I turn to face him, my hand reaching out to touch his chest. His skin is warm, his heartbeat erratic beneath my palm. "It's only a few months before I have this baby," I murmur. "Do you think you can wait?"

"Wait for what, Mariana?" He murmurs.

"Just say you'll wait. . . please. . ."

He doesn't reply, but his body softens just slightly under my touch. Slowly, carefully, he shifts closer, his arm sliding around me. The moment his skin presses against mine, I feel the tension in him begin to dissipate, piece by piece. His hand rests on the curve of my stomach, and I cover it with my own, holding him there.

"You feel that?" I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

Alejandro's fingers flex on my stomach and I know he does. Our son moves just a little and his breath catches in his throat, a tremble shooting through him.

"I shouldn't have come back here," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. A lone tear slides down my face and he wipes it off. "I wanted my own pound of flesh, and I hurt you. I don't know how to make this right. But I know I can't do it without you. I love you so much, Alejandro."

A gasp falls through Alejandro's lips and he pulls me closer, his lips resting on the crown of my head. "I love you too, Mariana. But don't make me regret this," he says, his voice raw with emotion.

"You won't," I promise, closing my eyes as I press myself against him. "I swear you won't."