ANMELDENALARIC The note remained on my desk long after Kimani had fallen asleep. She had been calmer than I expected during the drive home. She had explained everything without embellishment, handed me the folded paper, and trusted me to handle it. After dinner, she had carried on with her evening as though nothing had happened. We watched television together for a while before she excused herself, claiming the day had finally caught up with her. Within minutes of lying down, she was asleep beside me. I, however, wasn't. The bedroom was quiet, illuminated only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. I sat in the armchair near the window with the note unfolded in my hands, reading the same three sentences over and over again. Just because no one is saying anything doesn't mean you are free. I will expose all you have done and everything about you. You do not deserve Mr. Walker. They weren't empty words. Whoever had written them had taken the time to walk into another department, wait u
Hospitals had a way of making everything feel still. Too still. Like the world outside had been paused, waiting for something important to finish before it could start again. Inside Kimani’s room, however, there was no such thing as stillness. There was life. Three tiny, soft, unpredictable lives. And Kimani couldn’t stop staring. “They’re real,” she whispered, almost to herself. Alaric, seated beside her bed, followed her gaze to the bassinets lined neatly beside her. Three of them. Side by side. Each one holding a piece of them. “They are,” he said quietly. Kimani exhaled slowly, her hand resting gently over the closest one. “They were inside me.” Alaric raised a brow. “Yes. That is typically how that works.” She shot him a look. “Don’t ruin my moment.” “I’m not ruining it,” he said, completely unbothered. “I’m grounding it.” She huffed softly, but her lips curved. Her attention drifted back to the babies. “They’re so small,” she murmured
Labor did not begin the way Kimani expected. There was no dramatic scream in the middle of the night. No sudden rush of panic. It started… annoyingly. “Alaric.” He didn’t look up immediately, still focused on the document in his hand. “Hmm?” “Alaric.” Something in her tone made him pause. He slowly lifted his head. Kimani was standing in the middle of the room, one hand on her lower back, the other resting protectively over her stomach. Her expression was… off. Not pain. Not yet. But something close. “What is it?” he asked, already standing. “I think…” she hesitated, brows furrowing slightly. “I think something’s happening.” Alaric was beside her in an instant. “What kind of ‘something’?” he asked carefully. Kimani opened her mouth— Then froze. Her grip tightened on his arm. “…Okay,” she whispered. “That… hurt.” Alaric’s entire body went still. “How bad?” he asked. She exhaled slowly, eyes closing. “Not… terrible,” she said. “Just… weird.” A beat. Then ano
Peace in Alaric’s house never lasted long. Kimani had just started enjoying one of those rare, quiet afternoons—the kind where everything felt still, calm, and manageable. She was curled up on the couch, a bowl of cut fruits beside her (which she had insisted must include mangoes, strawberries, and—strangely—pickles), scrolling through her phone. Alaric sat nearby, working, though his attention shifted to her every few minutes like it had become second nature. Everything was calm. Suspiciously calm. Which meant— The door burst open. “WE’RE HERE!” Kimani didn’t even flinch. She just closed her eyes. “…I spoke too soon.” Alaric didn’t look up immediately, but the tightness in his jaw said everything. Ava walked in first, full of energy, sunglasses perched dramatically on her head like she had just returned from a red carpet event instead of… wherever she actually came from. Behind her, Alex strolled in like he owned the place, hands in his pockets, completely unbothered.
Bonus Chapter 1 Three Heartbeats Pregnancy, Kimani quickly discovered, was not the soft, glowing, effortlessly beautiful experience people loved to romanticize. It was chaos. Glorious, emotional, unpredictable chaos. And Alaric… was in the middle of it. --- It started small. At least, that’s what Kimani told herself. One minute, she was perfectly fine—calm, composed, enjoying her morning. The next? “I want mangoes.” Alaric looked up from his tablet. “Mangoes?” he repeated. “Yes.” “At eight in the morning?” “Yes.” He studied her face carefully. “You don’t even like mangoes that much.” “I do now.” Alaric leaned back slowly. “Noted.” Ten minutes later, he was on the phone. “Get me fresh mangoes,” he said calmly. “Not store-bought. I want them ripe, organic, and perfect. If they’re not perfect, don’t bother coming back.” Kimani blinked at him. “You’re threatening someone over mangoes?” “I’m ensuring quality,” he corrected. She stared at him for a moment. Then sm
THIRD PERSON'S POV Months Later The city glittered beneath them, alive with its usual restless energy—but inside the penthouse, time felt slower. Softer. It had been months since the island. Months since golden sunsets, salt-kissed air, and quiet mornings where the world felt distant and unimportant. Life had returned to its usual rhythm—meetings, schedules, responsibilities—but something had shifted. Something permanent. Kimani stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress for what felt like the hundredth time. It was simple, elegant, and soft against her skin—nothing too dramatic, but enough to make tonight feel special. Because it was. She smiled faintly at her reflection. “Relax,” she whispered to herself. “It’s just dinner.” But it wasn’t just dinner. It was their anniversary. One year since everything had changed. One year since a wedding that wasn’t supposed to happen had turned into the beginning of something neither of them could live wit
KIMANI By the time the gala finally ended, my feet were screaming help and my stomach was blissfully stuffed with enough sweets to last me till Christmas. Not till Christmas actually, because I will still eat more when I have the chance. The ride home was quiet, the city lights blurring past as
KIMANI “Where are we?” The question slipped out of me in a breath, barely louder than the waves rolling against the shore below. Alaric stood in the doorway, watching me from across the room as dawn began to bleed into the horizon behind me. The sky was shifting from deep navy to soft gold,
KIMANI When we sat, Alaric gave a small nod to the people closest to our table. The executives, it was subtle and effortless. A quiet acknowledgment that somehow carried weight. Heads dipped back in return, polite smiles exchanged. I followed his lead, smiling too, and was met with warmth inste
KIMANIAfter dinner, the house felt unusually calm—softer somehow, warmer than usual. Maybe it was the smell of roasted chicken still floating faintly in the air, or the sweetness of the cupcakes cooling on the counter. Maybe it was the quiet jazz humming through the lounge speakers. Or maybe it wa







