Serina Accardi had everything, and wanted for nothing. Her brother gave her whatever she desired, but kept the parts of her destined world out of her reach.
Until she lost everything in one night to a man who's eyes looks like the devils wrath.
Th...
Happy Valentine's Day, and yes The card right under this is from me to you :)
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I didn't want to lie to him. Honestly the moment was kind of a blur to me. I barely even registered what I was saying.
But whatever I was saying, it wasn't the truth.
I knew that after everything we have been through, and every time we have fought over the virtue of honesty—I knew that lying to him, especially over something like this, would hurt him.
But how was I supposed to be honest about this? How could I tell Lorenzo that there was this thing inside me, that his child, was cooking inside my uterus.
Lorenzo hadn't come to bed yet, as I swivelled my head to look at the clock and it was way past twelve, with the darkness of the sky clouding the room.
The bed was cold without him, lonely.
I wanted him. Earlier I wanted him on me for a different reason, but now, all I wanted was to feel him. I wanted to feel his warmth, I wanted him to make the fear and doubt that I felt all around me go away.
After I came in earlier he had kissed me and we vaguely fought, then he just walked into his office and closed the door a little harder then he usually did.
I knew him well enough to know he could see right threw whatever words I told him in the kitchen.
Pulling the covers up, I let out a sigh, as I rolled over to my side. My hand moving down to place over my lower stomach.
How could I have let this happen?
The skin under My hand was warm, as I smoothed my hand over the flatness. I was pregnant with Lorenzos child. The thought had my mind running a million miles a minute, thinking of the possibilities and the what ifs. Imagining myself with a swollen belly. Imagining Lorenzo holding our baby. A flutter in my chest akin to hope, happiness, made the emptiness of this room seem more hollow.
Lorenzo.
Pulling the covers away, I lifted my shirt, my fingers drawing over my stomach like a finger painting. And a tear fell from my eye as I turned my head over to gaze at Lorenzos empty side of the bed.
"Lorenzo." I said, as I pushed myself up and called down the long empty hallway, as I forced myself to stand. He knew me better then I knew myself, and I lied to him. What if he thinks I don't trust him?
He gets so angry with himself if he thinks I don't trust him. But I do. I trust him with everything I am, despite everything he is.
