The white dress lay sprawled across their bed like a curse.
Elira stared at it, jaw locked tight. The same dress she wore the first night Golderdy kissed her. The same one he tore off her body when she begged him to let her forget Damien.
A part of her wanted to rip it apart. Another part wanted to burn the whole damn house down.
“Are you okay?” Damien asked behind her.
“I told you,” she said without turning. “I know I’m pregnant.”
Damien exhaled. His fingers touched her back, tracing the dip of her spine. “I just don’t know if you’re okay with that.”
Elira turned to him. “I’ve carried someone else’s child before. But this one—this one’s mine. Ours. No more borrowed miracles.”
She didn’t say Amira’s name. Neither of them did anymore. The little girl still lived under their roof, sti
