Page 139 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
His gaze lifted from her smiling mouth to her eyes, bright and staring into his.
He’d been right to take her.
She was too small, too delicate, too innocent with her wide eyes and warm smile.
She wouldn’t survive without him. She was too sentimental. She was too focused on the things that didn’t matter. Feelings.Someone would take advantage of what she offered. Her riches, her softness.
‘Aurora,’ he said, and her smile spread wider. Even brighter than before.
He didn’t smile. He frowned. Did he remember how?
Did you want to remember?
He did not. His face ached at the thought of trying to lift muscles atrophied by inaction.
‘What are you doing in there?’ he asked, too harshly.
She pushed the door wide. The hem of her blue dress skimmed across her ankles, revealing her naked feet sinking into the thick pile of the cream carpet as she stepped backward.
‘Come see,’ she said, and her invitation was too warm, too tempting, Never had a door been opened to him so quickly, or had anyone been so eager to invite him inside.
He hesitated. But wasn’t that why he was here? To see what had kept her occupied?
He stepped forward and she took another step back until she stood in the centre of a room. He didn’t remember ever having set foot inside. And his body urged him to quicken his step.
She spread her arms wide, palms upward. ‘What do you think?’
He knew he should lift his gaze to the room she indicated with her gesture. But his eyes locked on her. Her hands moved to her midriff, cradled her bump, her fingers clasped together.
‘Well?’
He finally looked around the room.
‘It’s yellow,’ he said, because it was. But not just yellow. The walls were the shades of sunbeams. Hues of deeper yellows and oranges tinged with pink.
She nodded, the black silk loose at her shoulders swishing. ‘Gender-neutral.’
His eyes moved over the white units lining the walls, some with shelves, another topped with a spongy mat. A changing mat,he recognised. Just like the one he’d used for Amelia, only the plastic had been split on that one, repaired with duct tape. He ignored the pain that flashed in his chest.
It felt warm, new.
He took in another unit with a small removable bath atop it. And in another corner, there was a rug with colourful shapes, a basket of soft toys.
His chest caved in.
He understood a baby was coming. He understood he was to be a father. But…
He swallowed, trying to loosen the grip of something too tight closing his windpipe. But it didn’t help. The hold didn’t loosen.
She turned her back on him and walked to the windows to retrieve something.
She turned back to him—her hands outstretched. ‘It’s so tiny,’ she said, indicating the small outfit she held in her hands.
And he could not breathe.
He stepped back, but with each step he took, she followed him.
Her smile fell. ‘Are you okay?’
