The Man I Loved

Chapter Thirteen - After The Answer

For the first time in weeks, Amara slept without waking up afraid.

The DNA test had finally answered the question Damian had been carrying inside him.

The baby was his.

There was no uncertainty anymore.

No possibility.

No question mark hanging over their future.

At least, there shouldn't have been.

Yet when Amara woke the next morning, she didn't feel completely relieved.

She felt tired.

Emotionally exhausted.

She lay beneath the white sheets and stared at the ceiling.

Damian was already awake.

He was lying on his side, watching her.

"Good morning."

His voice was quiet.

"Good morning."

He smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

Amara thought about it.

"Better."

"That's good."

He reached for her hand.

She let him.

His thumb moved slowly over her fingers.

"I've been thinking about yesterday."

"So have I."

"I shouldn't have asked for the test."

Amara looked at him.

"No."

"I know I can't undo it."

"No."

"I wish I could."

She looked away.

"Damian, the result doesn't erase the fact that you asked."

"I know."

"And it doesn't erase the messages."

His hand stopped moving.

"I know."

The silence returned.

Amara sighed.

"I don't want to fight."

"Neither do I."

"Then don't make me feel like I have to."

"I won't."

She looked at him.

"I need you to understand something."

"I'm listening."

"When you asked if the baby was yours, you didn't just question the pregnancy."

She swallowed.

"You questioned me."

Damian looked down.

"I know."

"And after everything with Elena..."

His eyes closed briefly.

"I know."

"I don't know how to stop wondering if there's someone else."

"There isn't."

"You said you didn't know what you felt."

"I was confused."

"You hurt me."

"I know."

Amara pulled her hand away.

"I don't want us to keep saying that."

Damian looked at her.

"What do you want?"

"I want us to actually change."

He nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"I don't want promises."

"What do you want?"

"Actions."

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then nodded.

"Then I'll show you."

---

Later that morning, Amara found Damian in the study.

His laptop was open.

Several business documents were spread across the desk.

He looked up.

"You should be resting."

"I've been resting for three days."

"You've been worrying for three days."

She smiled faintly.

"Fair."

He closed the laptop.

"What do you need?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

She stepped closer.

"I wanted to see you."

His expression softened.

"You could have called."

"I live here."

"I know."

She smiled.

"I still like seeing you."

He stood.

They looked at each other.

Then Damian pulled her into his arms.

This embrace felt different.

Less desperate.

More deliberate.

His hand rested gently against her back.

"You're really going to be a mother," he whispered.

Amara smiled against his chest.

"And you're going to be a father."

He laughed quietly.

"I've never been more terrified."

She pulled back.

"Terrified?"

"Completely."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to become my father."

Amara's expression changed.

She had heard him mention his father before.

But never like this.

"What was he like?"

Damian looked toward the window.

"Successful."

"That's not what I asked."

He smiled sadly.

"No."

He sat down.

Amara sat beside him.

"My father believed providing money was the same thing as providing love."

She listened.

"He was always working. Always traveling. Always surrounded by people."

"What about your mother?"

"She was different."

His expression softened.

"She was the person who made our house feel like a home."

"What happened?"

"She died when I was young."

Amara reached for his hand.

Damian looked down at their joined fingers.

"I remember thinking after she died that if I ever had a family, I'd do everything differently."

He laughed quietly.

"Then I grew up and became exactly the kind of man I swore I'd never become."

"You haven't."

His eyes met hers.

"Not yet."

Amara squeezed his hand.

"You can choose differently."

He nodded.

"I want to."

---

That afternoon, Damian came home with several bags.

Amara looked at them suspiciously.

"What did you buy?"

"Nothing."

"You have six bags."

"Small things."

"Damian."

He smiled.

"Come here."

She followed him into the spare room.

He placed the bags on the floor.

Amara looked inside one.

Tiny white clothes.

She froze.

"You bought baby clothes?"

"Apparently."

She pulled out a tiny knitted sweater.

Her eyes immediately filled with tears.

"It's so small."

"I know."

She smiled.

"How did you know what to buy?"

"I didn't."

He looked embarrassed.

"I had an assistant help."

Amara laughed.

"You couldn't buy baby clothes?"

"I can negotiate a billion-euro deal."

"Apparently baby clothes defeated you."

"Completely."

She laughed again.

Damian watched her.

"I like that sound."

"What sound?"

"Your laugh."

She looked at him.

"You've said that before."

"I mean it every time."

She placed the sweater against her stomach.

"Do you think we'll have a boy or a girl?"

"I don't care."

"Really?"

"I care that they're healthy."

She smiled.

"What if it's a girl?"

"I'll be terrified."

"Why?"

"Because she'll eventually date."

Amara burst out laughing.

"It's already starting."

Damian shook his head.

"No one is good enough for my daughter."

"And if it's a boy?"

"I'll teach him to protect himself."

"Not to protect his mother?"

Damian looked at her.

"Especially his mother."

Something in his voice made her pause.

Then he smiled.

"And his father."

---

That evening, they ordered dinner instead of cooking.

They sat on the balcony overlooking the Parisian streets.

The city glittered beneath them.

Amara leaned against Damian.

His arm rested around her shoulders.

For once, there was no argument.

No accusation.

No Elena.

No DNA test.

Just quiet.

"Do you ever think about what our life would have looked like if we had never made mistakes?" Amara asked.

Damian was quiet.

"Sometimes."

"Would we be happier?"

"I don't know."

She looked up at him.

"I think mistakes change people."

"They do."

"Maybe that's not always bad."

He looked down at her.

"Do you think what happened between us was good?"

"No."

She smiled sadly.

"But I think what we do after it matters."

Damian kissed her forehead.

"I want to do better."

"Then do it."

"I will."

Amara rested her head against him.

For a while, they watched Paris together.

She allowed herself to imagine the future again.

A baby crying in the middle of the night.

Damian walking through the apartment with a sleepy child in his arms.

Family dinners.

First steps.

First words.

Christmas mornings.

Birthday cakes.

A thousand ordinary moments.

She wanted them.

So badly.

But there was something else she wanted too.

Something she hadn't said aloud.

She wanted to feel safe trusting Damian again.

Not because he promised.

Not because a test proved the baby belonged to him.

Not because he bought her beautiful things.

Because his actions made her believe him.

She didn't know if they were there yet.

But for the first time in a long time, she believed they might get there.

Damian kissed her temple.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Our future."

He smiled.

"And?"

Amara looked at him.

"I think we still have one."

His smile faded into something softer.

"Yes."

He held her closer.

"We do."

Neither of them noticed the unopened bottle of whiskey sitting inside the study.

Damian had bought it weeks ago.

He hadn't touched it since the night he came home drunk.

For now, it remained untouched.

For now, they were happy.

For now, they believed the worst of their relationship was behind them.

And that was exactly what made the future so dangerous.