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THE WEIGHT OF FOREVER

Penulis: Amira Lords
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-07-22 20:51:46

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:

“You’re pregnant.”

Dimitri’s voice cracked in the small bathroom as he stared at the two pink lines on the test, his hand trembling where it gripped the counter. Lyra stood frozen beside him, heart hammering so loud she could barely hear anything else.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, the words barely making it past the lump in her throat. Tears flooded her eyes instantly. “We’re having a baby.”

He spun toward her, pulling her into his arms so fiercely she lost her breath. “Ly
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  • MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING    EIGHT

    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-THREE: “Fear without a plot doesn’t sit in the corner. It sits on my chest.”Theo said it in the kitchen at 7:05 a.m. already standing, already locked, eyes on Dimitri like the night had been a long argument with no audience.Dimitri set the coffee down. “I know.”“You don’t.” Theo’s voice was fast, tight. “You said let it sit. I tried. It doesn’t sit. It presses. Eight days of this and I’m supposed to treat the pressure like weather. Weather moves. This doesn’t move. It just gets denser.”Lyra turned from the fridge. “Denser isn’t the same as permanent. You’re closer. Closer makes every feeling denser. That doesn’t mean the feeling gets the wheel.”“I’m not giving it the wheel.” Theo’s hands locked under his arms. “I’m telling you the stripped version is heavier than the version with inventions. At least the inventions gave me a task. Now I’ve got weight and no task except not inventing. That’s not a task. That’s a non-task. My brain hates non-tasks.”Silen

  • MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING    NiNE

    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-TWO:“I can’t invent my way out. That’s worse than the inventions.”Theo said it in the living room at 4:50 p.m., backpack still on, standing like the floor had tilted under the realization.Lyra looked up from the mail. “You tried.”“All day.” His voice was fast, tight. “On the bus. In math. Walking home. I built postponements, disqualifications, versions where you decide I’m too volatile to sort anything. Every one of them hit the same wall. The table stays. Nine days. No exit. I finally believe you. I hate that I believe you.”Dimitri came in from the hall. “Believing us isn't defeat. Treating belief like a trap is the leftover switch.”“It is a trap.” Theo’s hands locked under his arms. “A trap I asked for. That’s the part that makes me want to put my fist through the bare wall. I demanded a door. You built it. I tried to wire it, cancel it, and invent it. It’s still there. Now I have to walk toward it with no story left that gets me out.”Silence stretch

  • MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING    TEN

    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-ONE: “Ten days. Say it out loud so it stops living only in my head.”Theo stood in the kitchen at 7:00 a.m. already dressed, already braced, eyes locked on Lyra like the number needed witnesses.Lyra didn’t look away. “Ten days.”“Again.”“Ten days,” Dimitri said from the doorway with Anna on his hip.Theo’s mouth twitched, not a smile. “It doesn’t get smaller when other people say it. It just gets more real.”June hovered near the table. “Is that good or bad?”“Both,” Theo said. “Real means the table is coming. Real means I can’t keep treating it like a story you might cancel if I get difficult enough.”Silence stretched. Anna reached for toast. The bare wall held its empty hook. Ten sat in the room like a third adult.Lyra set the spatula down. “We were never going to cancel it because you got difficult. Difficult is the baseline. The table was built for difficult.”“You say that.” Theo’s hands locked under his arms. “Then the day gets quiet and I start in

  • MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING    THE FINAL STRETCH

    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY:“Eleven days. That’s not a stretch anymore. That’s a fuse.”Theo stood in the office doorway at 6:55 a.m. staring at the circle like it had shortened overnight while he wasn’t looking.Lyra stopped behind him with coffee. “It’s the same circle. You’re closer to it.”“Closer means the math changes.” His voice was fast, hard. “At thirty I could pretend the review was a concept. At eleven it’s a room I’m going to walk into with a twitching hand and a titled complaint about mornings and no clean speech. The fuse is lit whether you like the metaphor or not.”Dimitri came down the hall with Anna. “Then we walk into the room with what we have. Not with what we wish we had by day thirty.”“What we have is a boy who still reaches for a dead switch.” Theo turned on them. “A sentence he hates and needs. A count that owns his mornings even after he named it. A file that opens on soft coughs. You’re going to sit me down in eleven days and ask me to sort tools like I’m qu

  • MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING    TWELVE

    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-NINE:“Naming it didn’t free the morning. It just gave the ownership a title.”Theo stood in the kitchen at 7:10 a.m. staring at the bare wall, cereal untouched, voice already scraped raw.Lyra set a plate down harder than she meant to. “You wanted one true thing. You got it on the record. Now you’re mad the record didn’t rewrite your nervous system overnight.”“I’m mad that true things don’t move.” His hands locked under his arms. “I said the count owns my mornings. I woke up and the first thing in my head was twelve. Not the wall. Not the calendar. Just the number. Title and all. Still owned.”Dimitri came in with Anna. “Titles don’t unlock doors by themselves. They mark which door we put hands on at the table.”“That’s twelve days away.” Theo turned on him. “Twelve more owned mornings. You keep talking like the table is a tool I can use now. It isn’t. It’s a date. Between here and there I’ve got a titled problem and the same automatic math.”Silence stretc

  • MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING    ONE TRUE THING

    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-EIGHT:“I want the count to stop owning my mornings.”Theo said it in the kitchen at 7:05 a.m. like the sentence had been carved out of him with a dull knife, backpack already on, eyes locked on Dimitri.Lyra turned from the coffee. “That’s specific.”“It’s one thing.” His voice was fast, tight. “Not a full list. Not a middle manifesto. One true thing I can say without the scoreboard eating it. The count owns my mornings. I want that stopped. I don’t know how. I just know that’s true.”Silence stretched. June paused mid-pour. Anna smeared cereal. The bare wall held its empty hook.Dimitri set his mug down. “That’s a real item. Not total burn. Not total keep. A cost with a name.”“Don’t compliment it.” Theo’s hands locked under his arms. “If you turn it into a good job for finding the middle, I’ll stop talking. I’m not performing insight. I’m trying to see if one true thing can exist in this house without becoming a project.”Lyra’s eyes flashed. “It can exist

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