Lydia didn’t move when Adrian stepped closer. Not an inch. Her newborn son lay against her chest, warm and impossibly small, his breath soft against her skin. Every rise and fall of his tiny body felt like a promise—fragile, sacred, hers.She had brought him into this world alone.She would protect him the same way.Across the room, Adrian looked nothing like the man she had once loved. His gray eyes were wide, raw, almost unrecognizable. There was no cold calculation left in them, no distant indifference—only something broken. Something desperate.It didn’t matter.“Don’t.” The word came out quiet.Adrian froze instantly. His hand—mid-reach—stopped inches from the baby’s cheek, fingers trembling as if the air itself had turned to glass.Lydia lifted her gaze to his, steady and unyielding.“You don’t touch him,” she said. “Not after what you did.”Adrian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “Lydia… please—”“I ran,” she cut him off. Her voice rose, not loud, but fierce—raw in a way
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