Chapter 184: What I missed
After dinner, I make my way to our room, the soft click of the door barely breaking the silence. The warm glow of the lamps is muted, blending with the silvery moonlight streaming through the large windows. Thorne stands there, framed by the gentle shimmer of the night, his broad shoulders relaxed for once, his focus entirely elsewhere.
In his arms, he cradles Mirelle, her tiny body snug against his chest. She’s fast asleep, her soft breaths almost inaudible. Thorne’s hand moves in a rhythmic, absent-minded motion, lightly tapping her back, a gesture so natural and tender it takes my breath away.
I pause by the door, unable to step further into the room just yet. The sight floors me. My husband, the man who carries an aura of relentless intensity and quiet danger, looks so serene, so unguarded in this moment. The sharp lines of his face, usually set in a scowl or stoic determination, soften under the moonlight, revealing a side of him few are lucky enough to see.
It’s strange, but I feel like an outsider watching something sacred. The connection between Thorne and Mirelle is palpable, and I can’t help but marvel at the tenderness he shows her. The man feared by so many is utterly devoted to this tiny, innocent life in his arms.
I take a step forward, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene. "Thorne," I say softly, not wanting to startle him.
He turns his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the faint curve of his lips. It’s not a full smile, but it’s there, and it’s for me. "She fell asleep during the story," he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, as if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the moment.
I cross the room, drawn to him like always, and gently place a hand on his arm. "You’re amazing with her," I whisper, my voice filled with awe I don’t bother hiding.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s something raw in them, something vulnerable. "She deserves this," he says simply. "A quiet night. Peace. Love."
I lean my head against his shoulder, my heart swelling. "And so do you, Thorne," I reply, my fingers brushing Mirelle’s soft hair. "You deserve this too."