Page 59 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

Her lips part slightly. She sucks in a breath, her chest rising and falling a little more slowly now.

“Valentino… this is…”

I smile, watching her take it all in. I know exactly how she feels, it still takes my breath away, too.

“Stunning, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t respond at first, still absorbing the moment. Then, her grip on my hand tightens.

“I’m sorry for complaining so much before,” she murmurs. “I didn’t know this place meant so much to you.”

I glance at the small clearing just ahead, the place where my mother used to sit, sipping wine, laughing, telling stories.

“She used to say the climb is tough, but the view is always worth it.”

Layla watches me closely, as if trying to see past the walls I keep up. For once, I don’t mind.

“She sounds like she was a wonderful person.”

“She was.” My voice is quieter now. Because the truth is, I don’t talk about my mother. Not really. Not ever. But here? With Layla? It feels… easier.

Layla doesn’t push for more. She just strokes her thumb against my knuckles in a small, unspoken reassurance. “You didn’t deserve to lose her. None of us should have to lose our parents too soon.”

The tightness in my chest deepens, but her touch keeps me anchored.

“She loved to take us hiking while Dad was busy with work.” A small smile pulls at my lips. “She picked places with the best trails, no matter where we traveled.”

Layla tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to memorize everything I say.

“She sounds like she had an adventurous spirit.”

“Oh, that she did. That’s why my father fell in love with her.”

Layla’s eyes soften. “I’m happy you got to see what love looks like.”

A beat of silence.

“What about you?” I don’t know much about Layla’s family.

She dodges personal questions like it’s a survival instinct. But something about today feels different, maybe she’ll let me in.

Her breath catches slightly. She hesitates.

Then, she surprises me.

“My story is a little more complicated than yours.”

I don’t move, don’t push. “If you want to share, I’m here to listen.”

She sighs, rubbing her palm absentmindedly.

“I never knew my father. Never even saw a picture of him. My mom refuses to tell me anything. I guess… he really didn’t want me in his life.”

Something sharp twists in my chest.

I tighten my grip on her hand, gently but firmly. “I’m sorry, Layla.”

She shrugs, trying to brush it off. But I see the weight she carries, the unanswered questions, the years of silence.

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