Chapter Sixty Four

Mira’s P.O.V

The silence in the bedroom was heavy.

Not the comfortable kind we had sometimes shared, when words weren’t needed and presence alone was enough. No, this silence had edges...sharp, unyielding.

I sat at the edge of the bed, my hands resting on the curve of my belly, almost seven months now. The weight of the child inside me was a reminder of how far things had gone, how deeply intertwined my life had become with Luca’s. But right now, instead of feeling secure, I felt suffocated.

Luca stood near the balcony doors, his back turned to me. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared, as if he was holding himself together by sheer will. The faint glow of the city lights outside cut around him, shadowing his face. He had been like this for days...distant, withdrawn, his words clipped and his touch hesitant.

It tore at me more than I wanted to admit.

“You haven’t said a word since dinner,” I finally murmured, my voice low, tired.

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t turn.