200: Fragile Mother 200: Fragile Mother Elion’s fingers froze at Raelynn’s quiet question, his eyes locked onto hers.
For a mont, the room seed to hold its breath along with him.
The silence stretched, pressing against the fragile space between them.
Then, as if shaken from a trance, Elion’s hand lowered to her side.
He cleared his throat softly, masking the tension that flickered beneath the surface.
“I was…
nearby,” he answered.
“I heard sothing and ca to check.” It was a simple explanation—one that should have been enough.
Yet, as his fingers absently adjusted the edge of the blanket over her legs, Raelynn noticed the way his knuckles whitened.
The small flicker of pressure, barely perceptible, betrayed the tension coiling beneath his composed façade.
Her lips parted as if to press him further, but she stopped herself.
Perhaps she was reading too much into it.
Maybe he truly had been close by.
It was possible he had simply been worried, lingering outside the door after leaving Reinhart to watch over her.
Her heart whispered doubts, but she pushed them down.
Elion had always been protective when it ca to her.
That was all this was.
“…I see,” she murmured instead, forcing a small smile.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.” Elion’s gaze flicked toward her, his expression softening just slightly—but there was still sothing guarded behind those eyes, sothing hidden just out of reach.
He leaned down, pulling the blanket higher over her chest with careful hands.
“You should rest now,” he said gently.
“Your body needs ti to recover.” Raelynn nodded, though her mind remained restless.
As Elion turned away, she followed his figure with her eyes—the lean lines of his body, the way his steps were always so soundless, like a predator moving through the dark.
He crossed the room without another word, picking up the empty glass from the small table before heading toward the door.
“I’ll get you so water.” He disappeared into the dim hallway, leaving Raelynn alone in the hush of the night.
Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, palm pressing lightly over the small swell beneath her gown.
The ache from earlier had dulled to a faint throb, but the mory of it lingered—sharp and unforgiving.
Her heart squeezed at the thought of the child growing inside her.
Her mind began to replay everything—the sudden pain, Elion’s appearance, the strange way Sloane had evaded her questions…
the way Elion’s golden eyes always seed to know before she even spoke.
A chill curled through her chest.
She closed her eyes, taking slow, asured breaths.
Perhaps she really was imagining things.
Her mind was too tired, too clouded with fear and exhaustion to make sense of anything right now.
A few minutes passed before she heard the door open again.
Elion stepped inside quietly, holding a glass of water.
His expression was the sa—calm, composed.
But sothing in his gaze flicked toward her stomach, lingering for just a fraction too long before he crossed the room.
Raelynn accepted the glass with a small smile, taking a few slow sips.
The cool water soothed her parched throat, easing so of the tension in her chest.
“Elion?” He paused as he set the glass back down on the table.
“Hm?” Her fingers brushed over her stomach again, drawing slow circles over the warm curve.
Her voice ca softer, hesitant.
“Would you…
talk to the baby?” Elion’s body went rigid.
His eyes snapped toward her—startled, as if she had just asked him to do sothing impossible.
For a long mont, he didn’t speak.
The faint crackling of the candle filled the silence between them.
Raelynn’s heart clenched at his reaction.
Perhaps she was being foolish.
He had never shown much interest in the child—not in the way most fathers would.
Maybe he still hadn’t co to terms with what was happening.
She dropped her gaze, forcing a small, self-deprecating smile.
“Forget it…
it’s silly.
I just thought…
maybe if you told them not to hurt again, they might listen.” A soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, ant to lighten the mood.
But when she glanced back up, Elion was still staring at her.
His eyes flicked down to her stomach—the place where their child grew—before slowly, hesitantly, he stepped closer.
Without a word, he knelt beside the bed.
Raelynn’s breath caught.
He reached out, his hand hovering just above her stomach as if afraid to touch her.
His fingers curled slightly, knuckles tense.
Then, after a long mont, he lowered his palm against her.
Raelynn’s heart ached at how stiff he was—as if he didn’t know how to do sothing so simple, so gentle.
Her hand slid over his without thinking, pressing him closer.
“It’s okay…” she whispered.
“They’re yours too.” Elion’s throat bobbed, but he said nothing.
For a mont, there was only the soft rhythm of their breathing, the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Then, finally—his voice broke through the quiet.
“Don’t hurt your mother again,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.
His fingers flexed slightly against her stomach.
“She’s…
fragile.” Raelynn’s heart swelled at the rare tenderness in his voice.
He shifted, lowering his head slightly until his forehead almost brushed against her gown.
“Listen to her,” he added softly.
“She’s stronger than she thinks…
but not as strong as she pretends to be.” Raelynn blinked, warmth pooling behind her eyes.
Elion’s hand lingered there for several more seconds before he finally pulled away, rising to his feet with a stiffness in his movents—as if he was afraid he had already shown her too much.
Raelynn leaned back against the pillows, blinking up at him with a soft smile.
Elion then leaned down and pressed a single, feather-light kiss against her stomach.
Raelynn’s breath caught in her throat—her heart aching at how gentle he could be when he allowed himself to show it.
When he straightened, his eyes flicked toward hers.
“Sleep now.” Raelynn nodded slowly, letting her eyes flutter shut.
But long after she had drifted into sleep, Elion remained standing by the bed—his gaze fixed on the place where his hand had rested.
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