365 DAYS AS HIS WIFE의 모든 챕터: 챕터 31 - 챕터 40

**CHAPTER 032**I stared at her.The words wouldn't come out.*Doctor, what the hell are you saying.* I turned it over in my head, trying to make it make sense, trying to find the part where it became logical and landed properly. *How the hell would Rosa be pregnant. I never — I always used protection. Every single time. So how—*A sound from behind me.Small. Quiet. Suspiciously close to laughter.I turned.My mother sat with both hands folded in her lap and her expression perfectly composed — except for the very corner of her lips, where a smirk was sitting that she was making absolutely zero effort to hide."Except," she said pleasantly, "maybe someone forgot to use protection once." She tilted her head slightly. "Cassian. You used to come home drunk. Regularly. So there is a very real possibility that on one of those nights you were not quite as careful as you thought you were." She paused, letting that sit. Then she waved a hand. "But that's by the way." Another pause. A shorter

**CHAPTER 034** He was still on one knee. I was still standing there with my hand over my mouth and my eyes doing something embarrassing and my brain running approximately four seconds behind everything else. Michael Cross. On one knee. In my bedroom. With a ring. Say something, I told myself. Rosa. Open your mouth and say something. Anything. One word. You know words. You've been using them your whole life. Just— "I—" I started. Stopped. Started again. "You—" I pointed at him vaguely, which was not the word I was looking for but was what came out. The corner of his mouth moved. Just slightly. "Rosa." "I know, I know, just—" I pressed both hands to my face for a second, took one breath, lowered them. "Give me a moment." "Take your time," he said. Still on one knee. Completely composed. Like kneeling on the floor of someone's bedroom holding a ring box was a perfectly comfortable position that he could maintain indefinitely. I looked at him. Really looked at him. At the ste

CHAPTER 036**ROSA'S POV**Michael had been gone for about an hour.The room was quiet and warm, and full of flowers that were still doing what flowers did when someone had put genuine thought into them, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges than rooms usually were.I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.Not because anything was wrong. That was the strange part. Nothing was wrong. Everything was, by any reasonable measure, the opposite of wrong, and that was precisely why I was still awake at whatever hour this was, staring at the ceiling with my left hand resting on my chest, the cool metal of the ring against my sternum, and my brain absolutely refusing to stop moving.I replayed it.The dark room. The lights coming on. The flowers everywhere, not Michael's usual precise arrangements, but something fuller, something that had decided abundance was the right answer and committed to it completely. And then turning around and finding him on one knee, with that box

**CHAPTER 038****ROSA'S POV**I wanted to tell him. In fact, I almost told him.I had the whole thing ready—the sitting room, the juice, Elena's face when she said be careful and looked at my stomach—all of it sitting right at the front of my mouth.But then I saw his face.He was smiling.Not the small, controlled version he usually wore, the one that lived at the corner of his mouth and required close attention to catch. This was the fuller one—relaxed, beautiful—and he was talking about Elena with the particular warmth of someone talking about someone they'd known their whole life and trusted completely. How long it had been since she visited. How she always brought the house alive when she came. How he hoped I liked her.I sat there and listened and felt the words I'd been about to say settle back down into my chest, where they came from.He won't believe me, I thought. Not yet. Not without something to show him.Because that was the thing about Elena Cross—she was good. Genuinel

**CHAPTER 040****ROSA’S POV**The room was quiet.The kind of quiet that had weight to it — the specific quiet of a space that had recently held too many people and too much tension and was now empty of both, still carrying the echo of everything that had just happened.I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.My shoulder ached. My hip ached. The baby was moving in that slow rolling way she did when she was settling, like she could feel that things had calmed down and was responding accordingly. I pressed my hand over her and let the movement ground me.She’s okay, I thought. We’re both okay. For now.For now.That was the part I kept getting stuck on.Because Elena was still in this house. She was still down the corridor somewhere, probably in her room, probably sitting exactly as composed and unbothered as she’d looked when she walked out that door. And Michael was somewhere in this house believin