Seven months had passed, and everything around the Moretti mansion had gone quiet. Too quiet. The city whispered less, the streets rested, and for the first time in a long while, Elena and Lorenzo had peace. No gunfire, no threats, no screams in the night. Just them — together, living like the world hadn't tried to destroy them.
Elena's belly was now round and full; she was eight months pregnant and glowing with both beauty and mischief. Lorenzo never left her side, always holding her hand whenever she walked down the stairs, always the first to wake whenever she shifted in her sleep.
But even in peace, rumors traveled. Lorenzo's men had reported whispers that Elena's stepmother had joined forces with her father. Nobody knew where they were hiding, but Lorenzo didn't want to tell Elena — not yet. He wanted her to rest, to smile, to laugh, even if it was just for one more month before everything started again.
Elena, however, was not making that easy. She was driving him absolutely crazy — in a way only she could.
It was past midnight when Lorenzo felt her elbow nudge his side for the third time.
"Lorenzo…" she said softly, her tone both innocent and demanding.
He sighed, rolling onto his side. "What is it this time, my love?"
"I want noodles," she said, pouting. "But not the one from the kitchen. The one from the restaurant down the street."
Lorenzo blinked. "It's 2 a.m., Elena. Everything is closed."
She frowned and turned her back to him. "You don't love me anymore."
He sat up immediately, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "What? Of course I love you."
"Then prove it," she said, crossing her arms. "Get me noodles."
He chuckled softly, kissing her neck. "You're lucky you're carrying my child, woman."
By the time he returned with warm noodles thirty minutes later — thanks to one of his terrified men — Elena had fallen asleep holding his pillow. Lorenzo just stood there smiling, watching her sleep, brushing her hair away from her face. "You're going to be the death of me, Elena," he whispered, though his voice was full of love.
The next morning, she woke up craving something else. This time it was ice cubes, then oranges, then milk mixed with chocolate syrup. Lorenzo followed her around the mansion, trying to keep up with her every wish. His men often laughed quietly watching their once-fearless boss running around carrying bowls, spoons, and snacks.
At one point, Elena came to his office looking upset.
"Lorenzo," she said sternly.
He froze. "What did I do now?"
"Why didn't you kiss me before you left for your meeting?"
Lorenzo stared at her, completely lost. "You were asleep."
"So what? You could've kissed me while I was sleeping."
He blinked twice, then started laughing. "You're unbelievable."
"Unbelievably in love with you," she said with a sly smile.
He couldn't argue with that. He walked to her, pulled her close, and kissed her forehead gently. "Better?"
She nodded, resting her head against his chest. "Much better."
Every night, Lorenzo would stay awake watching her breathe, counting down the days until their child would come into the world. He'd whisper to her belly, telling their unborn baby how strong their mother was — how she had fought, cried, bled, and survived.
"Your mother's crazy, you know that?" he'd whisper with a small smile. "But she's my kind of crazy."
Sometimes she'd wake up to hear him talking, pretending to be asleep just to listen. Those moments made her heart melt more than any gift ever could.
As the days passed, the bond between them only grew stronger. The house was filled with laughter, and though everyone knew darkness was waiting somewhere beyond the walls, for now — there was light.
The world outside could wait.
For now, Elena was Lorenzo's peace, and he was her home.