HE IS NOT IMPOTENT

AISHA

That night went by, and we slept like two total enemies sharing the same bed.

Every single time my body accidentally brushed against his under the heavy sheets, Damian shifted away instantly, moving closer to the very edge of the mattress. I tried pulling closer to him, desperate to feel his warmth and bridge the painful distance between us, but he kept silently pushing me away, erecting an invisible wall of ice between us that hurt worse than any slap.

Early in the morning, a sudden knock on the main door echoed through the pack house.

When I went down to see who it was, I stood in absolute disbelief. It was Mabel. She had walked straight into our home, holding her baby, claiming she came to thank Damian personally for attending her presentation ceremony yesterday. It was completely uncalled for, an audacious move meant to provoke me, but I forced myself to maintain my composure.

I invited her into the sitting room and quietly prepared a tray of tea. As I poured a steaming cup for her, I looked down at her with a calm, artificial smile.

"Drink this, Mabel," I said softly, handing her the cup. "It’s a special blend—good for breast milk."

Mabel looked at the tea, then looked up at me with a sharp, cold sneer. She pushed the cup away so hard the hot liquid nearly spilled over the rim.

"Any woman that sleeps with my husband can kill me," Mabel spat sarcastically, her eyes flashing with venom. "Take your poison away."

To my absolute shock, Damian—who was sitting on the leather couch across from us—let out a deep, amused laugh.

I stood there, holding the tea tray, my jaw tight. I did not see anything funny in her disrespectful comment at all, but seeing Damian laugh hurt my heart in a strange way. It had been months since I heard him laugh, and the fact that Mabel brought it out of him felt like a quiet dagger to my chest.

Mabel set her baby down on the sofa, and surprisingly, Damian reached out and lifted the child into his arms. He carried the baby for the longest time, rocking him gently, staring down at the tiny face with an unreadable look in his eyes.

I hated seeing Mabel so close to Damian. I hated how comfortable she acted in our space. But as I watched them, a heavy, suffocating realization settled over my soul: I had completely lost the right to ask Damian any questions about the women he chose to be around. My own betrayal was far bigger than anything Mabel was doing. I had shattered his trust, and now I had to eat the bitter fruit of my actions.

After Mabel finally gathered her child and left the house, an uncomfortable silence fell over the living room. Damian remained seated, staring blankly at the empty doorway.

I stepped closer to him, my hands trembling slightly as I looked down at my feet. The desire to repair our life, to anchor myself back into his world, overwhelmed me.

"Damian..." I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I want us to try again. I need a child... I want to give you a baby."

Damian didn't look up immediately. He slowly raised his head, his dark eyes meeting mine with a cold, mocking glint. A faint, bitter smile touched the corner of his lips.

"Samson is impotent," Damian said smoothly, his tone laced with quiet sarcasm. "And maybe that is why you are not pregnant yet."

That hit so hard. The words sliced right through my pride, leaving me completely speechless.

Damian stood up and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the quiet room. His words kept echoing in my head, burning like hot iron. I felt a desperate, raging need inside me to prove that Samson was not impotent—to prove that my time with Samson wasn't with a man who was broken, and to prove to myself where I truly stood.

But how do I do this? I thought, my chest heaving with conflicted emotions. How do I find out the absolute truth without destroying whatever little is left of my life?