Inside the sterile, high-tension atmosphere of the Sinclair Citadel, the air in Dr. Sara’s office remained thick with unspoken emotions. Amilah was still sniffling, tucked securely within the sanctuary of Lowin’s powerful embrace. She was vibrating with an electric sort of excitement, her voice a soft, melodic chatter as she rambled about the future.
"They're going to be so handsome, Lowin... can you imagine? Two little boys with your eyes," she whispered, her face glowing with a maternal radiance that should have been purely joyful.
Lowin nodded, his expression a mask of calm as he planted slow, tender kisses on her forehead. But beneath the surface, a cold seed of dread was taking root in his chest. Two sons? The thought didn't bring him peace; it brought a vision of blood and betrayal
