Chapter 97: ⊰ 19 ⊱ A Promise for Tomorrow

I sit at the dinner table, my gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake visible through the large windows of Santiago’s and Alessandra’s lake house. It’s the same place where Marcel and I exchanged our vows, where we promised to love and cherish each other through every obstacle.

Now, as I sit here, Marcel beside me, I can’t help but feel a hollow ache in my chest. We’ve barely spoken a word to each other since our heated confrontation last night.

Alessandra’s laughter rings out, drawing my attention to the head of the table. She’s glowing, her hand resting on Santiago’s arm as she leans in to whisper something in his ear. They look so happy, so in love, and for a moment, I envy them. I long for the easy intimacy they share.

*Why am I so fucking miserable..?*

As the meal progresses, the conversation flows round me, but I feel myself drifting, my mind wandering to the dark places I’ve been trying so hard to escape. I push the food around on my plate, my appetite gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease.

Suddenly, Alessandra stands, clinking her fork against her glass to get everyone’s attention. “We have an announcement to make,” she says, her voice trembling with excitement.

I glance up, my heart skipping a beat as I take in the joy radiating from her face. Beside her, Santiago stands, his arm wrapping around her waist, a proud smile tugging at his lips.

“We’re pregnant,” Alessandra squeals, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. “We’re having a baby.”

For a moment, the room is silent, a collective breath held in anticipation. Then, it erupts in a chorus of congratulations and well-wishes. Guillermo rises from his seat, pulling Alessandra into a fierce hug, his usually stern face softened with genuine happiness. Levi claps Santiago on the back, a wide grin splitting his face.

But as I watch the scene unfold, I feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat. I force a smile, murmuring my own congratulations, but inside, I’m screaming, a tidal wave of ill emotions crashing over me.

*Why can’t that be me? Why can’t I have that happiness?*

I think back to the child I lost, the tiny life that was snuffed out before it even had a chance to grow. I think of the emptiness that’s taken root inside me, the aching void that nothing but prayer seems to fill.

*I want a baby. I want to be a mom.*

But even as the thought crosses my mind, I feel a swell of shame, of self-loathing. How can I even consider bringing a child into this world when I can barely hold myself together? When I’m still haunted by the demons of my past, the scars that taint my body and soul?

I excuse myself from the table, mumbling something about needing some air. I can feel Marcel’s gaze on me as I walk away, but I don’t turn back, don’t meet his eyes. I’m still too angry, too hurt by his secrecy and dismissiveness.

I step out onto the porch, the cool night air washing over me, sending a shiver down my spine. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the sobs that threaten to spill out, the tears that burn at the back of my eyes.

*I’m broken. I’m damaged. I’m not fit to be a mother.*

The thoughts swirl in my head, a vicious, relentless cycle of self-doubt and recrimination. I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m being pulled under by the weight of my own inadequacies and failures.

I don’t know how long I stand here, lost in the darkness of my own mind. But eventually, I hear the door creak open behind me, the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Mercy.” Marcel’s voice is low, tinged with a weariness that matches my own.

I stiffen, my shoulders tensing as I keep my back to him. “What do you want, Marcel?” I ask, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

He sighs, and I can picture him running a hand over his face, the way he does when he’s frustrated or at a loss. “We need to talk, doll.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, *now* you want to talk?” I ask, turning to face him, my eyes hard. “Last night, you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

A flicker of guilt crosses his face, but he doesn’t flinch at my accusation. “I handled that badly,” he admits, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

It’s never been easy for him to admit when he’s wrong, so hearing him apologize, I feel a flicker of satisfaction. But it doesn’t last, quickly overshadowed by the hurt and anger that still simmers inside me.

I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes, my throat tightening. “Sorry doesn’t fix everything, Marcel,” I say, my voice cracking, knowing that I’m not just saying it because of what he did. I’m saying it because of what I did and how far apart it’s drifted us.

He takes a step closer, his jaw clenching as he meets my gaze head-on. “You think I resent you?” he asks, his voice low and intense. “Is that really what you believe, after everything we’ve been through?”

I nearly flinch at the harshness of his tone, but I don’t back down. “What am I supposed to think? You shut me out, push me away. It feels like you can barely stand to look at me sometimes.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration and something like pain flickering in his eyes. “I’m trying to protect you, Mercy. I’m trying to keep you safe. And I’m sorry if you feel like I’m going about it the wrong way, but this is the best I can do.”

He reaches out, his hand gripping my shoulder, his touch firm and grounding. “But trust me when I say I could never resent you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He sounds desperate, taking a step closer as his hands cup my face. “Baby, I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to hold onto you, but every time I look in your eyes, you look like you’re drifting further away from me. And I don’t know how to pull you back in without hurting you more.”

A shaky breath parts his lips as he lowers himself to me, his forehead pressing against my own. “Muñeca, talk to me,” he murmurs. “What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?”

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. For a moment, I’m tempted to stay silent, to keep my deepest fears and desires locked away. But as I stand here, wrapped in the warmth of his touch, I realize that I can’t keep running from the truth. I won’t ever get better if I keep hiding from the one person who loves me more than anything in this world.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I bring my hands up to his wrists, pulling away slightly to look into those beautiful golden-brown eyes of his. “I want a baby, Marcel,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I want to be a mom. But I…I know I can’t. Not right now. Not while I’m like this…a mess.”

His eyes widen, a mix of surprise and understanding flashing across his face. “Oh, baby doll,’ he murmurs, his voice soft, almost pained. “You’re not a mess. You’re healing.”

I shake my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. “Healing?” I echo, my voice hollow. “I’m jealous of my own sister-in-law, Marcel. I’m jealous of her happiness, her pregnancy. What kind of person does that make me?”

His hands fall from my face as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. He rests his chin on the top of my head, his voice soft and sincere as he says, “It makes you human, Mercy. You’ve been through hell and back, and you’re still here. You’re still fighting.”

I wrap my arms around him, my eyes fluttering closed as a tear slips down my cheek. “I’m tired of fighting,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so tired of feeling like I’m not enough.”

I feel him shake his head above my own. “You are enough, doll,” he says fiercely. “You’re everything. *My* everything.”

*And you are mine…*

A sob catches in my throat, my hands balling the back of his shirt into my fists, anchoring myself to him. “I want a future with you, Marcel,” I breathe, my voice shaking. “I want a family. And I’m scared that I’ll never be ready.”

He pulls back slightly, his hand gasping my chin and tilting my head up to look at him. His eyes search mine, a fierce determination burning in them. “You listen to me,” he says, his voice tinged with an intensity. “When this is over, when Luciano is nothing but a bad memory, I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. This life? I’m done with it. I’m going to focus on my legitimate businesses, and we’re going to build a life together.”

He offers me a small smile, a longing glint in his eyes. “And we’re going to have as many babies as you want.”

I feel a warmth bloom in my chest, a flicker of hope that chases away the shadows, the doubts. “You promise?” I ask, hating how small and uncertain my voice sounds.

He nods, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I promise, muñequita,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead. “Just hold on a little longer. Please, just hold on. It’ll all be over soon.”