Chapter 183 US.
\~~~RAINA.
It had been hours since I'd been lying on the bed, and staring at the ceiling as if it held some secret to making everything better.
The room was dark, only a sliver of moonlight sneaking through the curtains, but sleep wouldn't come. It used to be my escape, that deep, dreamless void where I could forget everything and the sharp pain of loss tearing through me. But now, it dodged me like I didn't deserve it. And worse, guilt gnawed at me for how I'd treated Luciano earlier tonight.
I replayed the scene in my head, the way I'd snapped at him, pushing him away when all he'd done was try to help.
Nah, I'd been too extreme and too harsh. He didn't deserve that explosion, and those cutting words about how he couldn't understand. He was hurting just as much, maybe in different ways, but the pain was there, and etched into every worried glance he gave me.
Since we got home from the hospital two days ago, he's been everywhere. Over me, around me, and checking on me every minute like I might shatter if he looked away. Even when he thought I was asleep, I'd feel his presence. He'd stand at the foot of the bed, his shadow long in the dim light, then come closer. His fingers would brush my hair gently, tucking a strand behind my ear, and he'd whisper how much he loved me.
Soft words, like 'You're my everything, Raina' or 'We'll get through this.' Those moments kept me from completely falling apart. He was the glue holding my broken pieces together, the one steady thing in this storm.
How could I have forgotten that? He was suffering too. Our baby was gone before we even knew it was real. I knew Luciano better than anyone. I knew he'd be beating himself up inside, and replaying every second he could have stopped it. Blaming himself for not finding me sooner, and for letting Marco and Talia get the drop on us in the first place. The guilt must be eating him alive, heavier than mine because he was the protector, and the one who was supposed to keep us safe.
It had taken everything in me not to lash out earlier, to scream that he should have saved us sooner. But I swallowed it down, because saying it would have been cruel. I never could have forgiven myself if those words had slipped out. And looking at him now, in my mind's eye, I saw the toll it was taking. He hadn't slept properly in days. His face was a wreck, and dark circles were under his eyes, stubble rougher than usual, and those breakouts popping up from all the stress.
He wasn't taking care of himself at all and was just pouring everything into me while letting himself crumble.
Enough. I couldn't let this go on.
With a deep breath, I pushed the heavy duvet off my body and sat up. My legs felt weak, like the energy had drained out of me, but I swung them over the side of the bed anyway. The cool floorboards grounded me as I stood, steadying myself against the bedpost. I padded quietly out of the room, the hallway silent except for the faint hum of the house settling at night.
I headed straight for the study. I knew that's where he'd be. It was his go-to spot when he needed space but didn't want to be too far and close enough to hear if I called.
The door was slightly ajar, a warm glow spilling out from the lamp inside. I pushed it open slowly, and my eyes landed on him immediately. He was settled on the double seater couch, his head tilted back against the cushion with his eyes closed.
His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, like he was finally catching a bit of rest. Dozing, but not deeply. Even in sleep, he looked tense, and his brows were furrowed.
My heart squeezed. He needed this, needed me to let him rest. I tiptoed across the room, the carpet muffling my steps, hoping not to wake him too soon. I stopped right in front of him, close enough to see the exhaustion lines around his mouth. Gently, I raised my hand, wanting to run my fingers through his hair, to soothe him like he'd done for me so many times.
But the moment my hand hovered near his head, his eyes snapped open. In a blur, he grabbed my wrist, not hard, but firm, his instincts kicking in.
“Baby,” he gasped, sitting upright so fast the couch creaked. His eyes widened, searching my face for any sign of distress.
I couldn't help but smile a little, even through the ache in my chest. “Did you always sleep with your guard up?”
He released my wrist slowly, rubbing it absently as if checking for marks he hadn't left. “I wasn't sleeping,” he shook his head, his voice hoarse from disuse. It sounded rough, like gravel, and it tugged at me.
Before I could say anything, he cut in again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you feel cold or do you…”
“I want you,” I said softly, our eyes locking. The words hung there, simple but loaded with everything I couldn't say yet.
“Baby?” His confusion flickered, but there was hope in it, a spark lighting up his tired eyes.
Gently, I closed the space between us and settled onto his thighs, straddling him carefully. His body was warm, solid under me, and I felt him tense for a second, like he was afraid to believe this was real.
His hands shook as they hovered near my hips, unsure if he should hold me, but then he did. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer, his touch tentative but desperate.
“Are you okay?’' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes scanning my face like he was memorizing every detail.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I'm sorry…”
“No, sunshine. No, you shouldn't be.,” He shook his head, his grip tightening just a fraction.
“No, I shouldn't have said those words to you. You had it rough too.” I cupped his face in my hands, feeling the rough stubble under my palms. His skin was warm, and I traced the lines of worry there.
“You had it rougher, baby. You miscarried. You were…” He breathed out, the words catching, like saying them made it real all over again.
“You lost your baby too. It was our baby.” My voice trembled, but I held his gaze, willing him to see I meant it.
His eyes dropped, and in that moment, I saw the tears welling up, glistening in the lamplight. It broke something in me, seeing my strong husband like this… vulnerable, and raw.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. “The thought that you could have been a father must have crossed your mind too. And you lost the baby before you even knew it existed.”
“Baby…” He rubbed my back in slow circles, his voice cracking a little. I could feel the tremor in his hands, the way he was holding back his own sobs.
“I shouldn't have been so hard on you.”
“No, no. I deserved it. If you hadn't managed to call, I don't know if I'd have found you. I failed you. I failed you and… you and the baby,” His words came out muffled against my shoulder, heavy with self-blame.
“Oh, my husband,” I exhaled, hugging him tighter. He hugged me back, his arms like a vice around me, and I heard him sniff, fighting the tears.
“It wasn't your fault. God, come on.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No. No, okay?’' I pulled back just enough to look at him, wiping the tears from his cheeks with my thumbs. His eyes were red-rimmed, but there was relief there too, a softening.
He nodded, burying his face in my neck for a moment, breathing me in. I felt my own chest lighten a bit, the weight of the guilt easing as we held each other. It wasn't fixed, not yet, but this was a start. “We've got each other, and that is the only thing that matters. As long as we have each other…”
He lifted his head, his eyes locking on mine again, and I saw the truth of it sink in. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice steadier now. “As long as we have each other.”
We stayed like that for what felt like forever, just breathing together, the silence comfortable for the first time in days.
Then I pulled back fully, smiling softly as I wiped the last of his tears. “Look at you, big boy, crying like that.”
“Oh, come on,’' he hissed, but there was a chuckle in it, and we both laughed softly, and tentatively, but it was real.
The sound broke through the heaviness, like sunlight piercing clouds.
“I want you to take me to our room and put me to sleep. I want you to sleep beside me, while you hold me so tight.”
“I'd want nothing more, my sunshine,” he smiled, that old warmth creeping back into his eyes. Without another word, he scooped me up in his arms, cradling me like I weighed nothing. He pressed a kiss to the corner of my lips, soft and lingering, then carried me out of the study.
The hallway felt shorter this time, and less empty with him holding me. We entered our room, the bed still rumpled from earlier. He laid me down gently, like I was fragile porcelain, then stepped back to strip off his shirt and pants. He slid in beside me in just his boxers, the mattress dipping under his weight. He snuggled me closer, his arm draping over my waist, pulling me against his chest.
“I love you so much, sunshine,” he whispered into my hair, his breath warm on my skin.
“I love you more, hubby.” I nestled into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back.
For the first time in what felt like forever, peace settled over me. Sleep would come now, and I knew it now that I was wrapped in his arms where I belonged.
We'd lost so much, but we still had this. Us.
And that was enough to start healing.