Page 111 of Of Oaths and Secrets

Because she’s my world, and I’ll burn down the heavens and the earth to keep her safe.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nora

The first time I wake, my eyelids feel like lead. My vision is blurry, and my head feels as though it's swimming in fog. But through the haze, one thing is clear—Rafaele. He’s sitting beside me, his hand enveloping mine, his face etched with worry and something deeper.

“Amore,” he whispers, his voice low and fervent. “You’re safe. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

I want to respond, to tell him I hear him, that I feel the strength of his love holding me steady even as the world wavers. But the pull of unconsciousness is too strong, and I slip away again.

The second time, I manage to open my eyes a little wider. The room is dim, save for the soft glow of a light near the bed. Rafaele’s face is closer now, his forehead resting against our joined hands, his lips moving silently in what could only be a prayer. Seeing him like this—vulnerable, raw—makes my chest tighten. He’s always been my pillar, my unyielding force, and now, even in his quiet despair, he’s still that for me.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmurs, lifting his head, his dark eyes glistening. “You’re the strongest person I know. You gave me areason to be better. You’ve given me everything, Nora. I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

The words wrap around me like a warm blanket as my eyelids grow heavy again.

The third time, I wake fully. The light is brighter, and the fog has cleared just enough for me to take in my surroundings. The sterile smell of the hospital is unmistakable, but it’s not what holds my attention. It’s the sight before me—Rafaele, sitting in a chair beside the bed, cradling a tiny bundle in his arms.

My breath catches. The baby is impossibly small, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, with a shock of black hair peeking out. As I focus, my heart swells. She has Rafaele’s black hair. My throat tightens as tears spring to my eyes.

Rafaele notices me stirring and looks up, his expression transforming from exhaustion to unbridled relief. “Nora,” he says, his voice breaking. “You’re awake.”

I try to speak, but the lump in my throat won’t let me. Instead, I just nod, my gaze locked on the tiny miracle in his arms.

He stands, carefully bringing her closer to me, and lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. “Amore, meet our daughter. She’s perfect—just like her mother.”

I reach out, my fingers trembling as they graze the soft blanket. Rafaele shifts slightly, bringing her closer until I can cradle her against me. The weight of her, the warmth—it’s overwhelming. She stirs, her tiny fist brushing against my hand, and I feel a sob rise in my chest.

“Look at her tiny hands. She’s perfect. How did we create something so… miraculous?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“She has your eyes—so full of life already. But the hair, that’s all me. Let’s just hope she inherits your patience.” he says softly, his hand resting over mine as we both stare at her.

I laugh weakly, the sound broken but filled with joy. “Let’s hope she gets a mix.”

We sit like that for a moment, the three of us, wrapped in a bubble of love that feels unbreakable. The pain, the fear, everything we’ve endured—it all fades in this moment. All I can see is my husband and our little girl, and it feels like the most beautiful scene I’ve ever witnessed.

“She’s so small,” I murmur, my tears falling freely now.

“But she’s strong,” Rafaele says with pride. “Just like her mother.” He rests her completely in my arms before reaching for a glass on the side table and helping me take a few sips—the water feels like heaven in my throat.

I can’t stop looking at her and the way she details me. I’m learning her face as she’s learning mine. “She’s perfection,” I whisper, awe in every word.

Rafaele kisses the top of my head, his lips against my hair. “Of course she is. You made her.”

I roll my eyes, but a tender smile plays on my lips. “We made her.”

He brushes his hand against my cheek as he leans down to press his lips to mine in a kiss so soft it feels like a promise. “Thank you for coming back to me,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion.

“I would have fought Hades himself to come back to you,” I reply, tears threatening again.

His eyes darken with intensity as he whispers against my temple, “And I would have dragged you out myself.”

I absorb his words like a vow as Paolo steps in, his usual smirk firmly in place, though the relief in his eyes is unmistakable. “Well, well, look who’s up?” he says, sauntering over. I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Instead, I glance at our daughter, her tiny form nestled against me.“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I finally manage, my voice thick with emotion.

Paolo bends down, brushing a finger gently across her soft forehead. “She really is. Perfect, just like her mother. You gave us a scare, Norina. Don’t do that again—I mean it.” He touches the tip of her button nose. “But seriously, thank heaven she didn’t get Rafaele’s nose.”

Rafaele scowls, but there’s a faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Do you ever say anything useful, Paolo?”

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