Lysandra awoke slowly, her body heavy with exhaustion, but her mind clear. She blinked against the soft morning light filtering in through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.
For a moment, she forgot where she was, who she was, and who was beside her.
But as the fog lifted, she turned her head, and there he was.
Caveen.
He was sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his dark hair messy and wild, as if he hadn't moved all night. His face was set in a familiar frown, the one she knew all too well.
She hesitated, watching him sleep for a moment, his breath steady, his features softened in slumber. Something inside her twisted with the ache of wanting him—wanting this moment to last.
But she knew better.
Taking a breath, she slowly shifted her position, trying not to disturb him, to give him the space he needed, to let him sleep. Her body ached, but she didn't care. She just wanted to hold on to this moment a little longer.
But it was no use.
The moment she moved, his eyes snapped open, his pupils dilating as they found hers. The air in the room shifted, suddenly heavy with tension. His gaze was cold, detached, and sharp—like a blade drawn across her skin.
Lysandra froze, her heart skipping a beat.
"You're awake," he said, his voice rough, as though the words didn't quite fit his throat. His eyes darkened as they locked onto hers, piercing through her as if searching for something—anything—to ignite his anger. "Don't try to move so quietly."
She felt the sting of his words, but it was the weight of his gaze that made her flinch. The bitterness in his stare was enough to freeze the air around her.
"I—" Lysandra began, but he cut her off before she could finish.
"I didn't come here for you," Caveen said, his voice colder now, devoid of any warmth. "I came here because of the baby. Don't think for a second that I care about you."
His words were like daggers, each one finding its mark.
Lysandra's breath caught in her throat. He had said it so plainly—without any hint of regret, without hesitation. He didn't want her. He never had.
A sharp, raw pain spread through her chest, but she fought to hold it together. She couldn't let him see how much his words hurt. Not now. Not when she had already felt so much loss.
She lowered her gaze to her hands, clutching the blanket tightly, trying to steady herself. Her voice came out quietly, almost a whisper.
"I understand," she said, her words barely audible.
Caveen's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as if he didn't trust her response. He was waiting for something more. He was expecting anger, maybe defiance, but there was only acceptance in her eyes.
For a long moment, he didn't speak. He just stared at her with that same cold, hard expression that made her feel invisible. Then, with a slow exhale, he stood up and turned toward the door.
"You should rest," he muttered, the distance in his voice growing as he took a step away from the bed.
Lysandra didn't look up. Her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of the sheets as she held back the tremor in her hands. She knew it was pointless to hope for anything more from him—she had always known that.
The room felt too small now, the silence between them heavier than ever.
"I'll be back later to check on you," he said over his shoulder, his tone flat. "Just don't expect me to care."
The door clicked shut behind him.
And then, for the first time in days, Lysandra allowed herself to breathe. The weight of his words didn't go away, but at least now, she could acknowledge the truth. He wasn't here for her.
He was here for the baby.
Caveen's POV
Caveen's dark eyes flicked to Lysandra, her soft silhouette bathed in the morning light. That quiet beauty—so fragile, so real—hit him like a punch to the gut. Why did his heart twist in ways he didn't understand? How could he say he didn't care about her when every fiber of his being screamed otherwise?
He swallowed hard, jaw clenched tight. No. This isn't about her. The words he spat out earlier—cold, distant—they felt like a lie now. But he forced himself to believe them. It's all because of the child. Nothing else.
Still, that uneasy feeling gnawed at him, refusing to fade. His mind raced, struggling to push down the doubt, the confusion. Feelings are weakness. I can't afford that. Not now.
So he turned away, shutting his heart down piece by piece, burying those dangerous emotions deep where they couldn't hurt him. Because in this tangled mess, there was only one thing Caveen could hold on to: the child—his bloodline—and the unbreakable duty to protect it, no matter the cost.