CHAPTER 150: SUNDO

–Livana–

It’s strange—everything is so bright, yet so blurred. But I know one thing: I can see. My husband approached, his tall figure softened by the haze, and in his hand was a rose. A thorny one, or so it should have been. He had already stripped it bare with his Swiss knife, leaving only its velvet bloom.

"What do you think?" he asked, leaning closer, his eyes locked on mine with such intensity that even through the blur, I felt pierced. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it? A purple rose."

I glanced down at the flower, then back at him.

"It’s... fine."

"I’ve been enhancing the greenhouse," he continued proudly, "making sure every shade of violet blooms there."

"Because it’s your favorite color?" I tilted my head, a sly smile tugging at my lips.

"My favorite color," he replied smoothly, "is the color of your eyes."

He said it so casually, yet it stole the air from me. Why does he look even more handsome when he’s cheerful? But then, he’s too dangerously attractive when he’s angry—or laughing like a madman. Damn him. He’s hot either way.

I shook off the thought. Insolent. Ridiculous.

Never in my life had I entertained such notions—perhaps because I was too busy savoring the way he worshipped me, body and soul, every time he took me.

"Oh, look. The twins," he said suddenly.

"Twins?" My gaze drifted toward two children, small figures running toward us, their laughter echoing faintly. "I stole them from your sister," Damon whispered with a conspiratorial grin. It should have been absurd, but we used to spirit them away as though they belonged to us.

When I turned back, Damon was watching me with that crooked smile.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me."

I scoffed, shaking my head at his teasing.

"Liva," a familiar voice called, laced with a scent that made me freeze. My breath caught. That voice...

"Oh, it’s your mom!" Damon announced lightly.

My heart faltered. My mother? But she was gone. Long gone. Wait—am I dreaming?

I turned, my vision struggling to sharpen. There she was, in a peach dress, walking toward me. Her face was blurred, but clearer than the children’s.

"Hi, Mom!" Damon grinned, oblivious. "Liva finally told me she loves me. Can you believe it?"

I barely heard him. My hand reached out, trembling.

"Do you want to come with me, Livana?" my mother asked, her voice suddenly so clear it rattled me.

I froze. Sundo. That’s what they call it—a dead relative visiting you in your dreams, a gentle grim reaper, come to take you. Was she here to take me?

"Mama!"

The twins suddenly ran toward Laura’s figure, their laughter distorting the air. My gaze snapped back to my mother, torn between longing and fear.

I gasped, eyes flying open. My chest heaved. A silhouette loomed in the dim light—a nurse with a mask. She squeezed my hand softly, grounding me. The faint scent of her soap, the sterile air, all of it—too real. Yet my mind clung to the fragrance of my mother from the dream. Maybe I was still trapped between worlds.

My eyes fluttered shut again, sinking back.

"Liva?"

That voice. Damon’s. Urgent, cracked with relief. My eyes opened once more, his face blurring into focus as he leaned close. His breath brushed my skin.

"Hey," he sighed, pressing his forehead to mine. "Livana... you scared me."

"Hmm?" The sound was all I managed. My throat felt sandpapered, my body weak. My skull throbbed as if split in two. I could see, but only shadows and smudges.

"Liva, I’m here."

Another voice—Laura’s—called from my left. I turned weakly, my muscles sluggish, as though dragging chains.

"You scared us all. The doctor said you’d wake within twenty-four hours... but it’s been three days!" Her voice cracked with tears.

"L–raa..." I forced out the syllables heavy on my tongue.

"Doctor!" Damon roared.

Laura gripped my left hand, her warmth trembling against me. "Squeeze my hand, Liva. Please."

I tried. My fingers barely twitched, more ghostly than firm. It didn’t even feel like I’d done it.

"Hmm..." I groaned. "I... bathroom." The word slurred.

"What do you need?" Laura asked urgently.

"I feel... sick."

Damon moved quickly, already holding a bin, already adjusting the bed to ease me upright. He guided me, steady and unshaken, as I vomited into the bin. My stomach churned, vicious and sour, as though my body wanted to purge every trace of weakness.

When it passed, the doctor examined me, shining a light into eyes that should have been blind. He knew, of course. But I had to play my part, gathering myself into the fragile mask I always wore.

Later, after tests, warm soup was fed to me. Then Damon, despite his own injuries, tended to me as if nothing could stop him. He bathed me gently, his hands steady, his movements reverent.

With him, I felt... comfortable. Safe. Yet when I glanced up, his eyes told another story—dark, burning, hurt. His jaw clenched at every bruise, every scar he had failed to shield me from.

He dressed me softly, almost as if I were made of glass. Then, he kissed me. A whisper against my lips:

"I’m sorry, my love."

"What for?" My voice was still fragile.

"For not protecting you enough."

"We couldn’t have predicted it," I murmured. "Even with shadows around us."

"You scared the hell out of me when you wouldn’t wake up. Do you know I nearly beat the doctor bloody?"

"I was... resting," I whispered faintly. "I think I woke last night. Or maybe... it was a dream."

"Last night?" His brows furrowed. "Why didn’t I notice?"

"Maybe you fell asleep."

He supported me to the sink. My hands trembled on the toothbrush until he guided me, giving calm instructions. It was clumsy, but it was us. Within minutes, he had me back in fresh sheets, tucked carefully as though guarding me from the world.

I kept my expression blank as faces began to arrive—grandparents with food and balloons, their kisses soft against my cheeks. The weight of the bandage on my head reminded me that I wasn’t whole.

"Hello, family!" the doctor greeted cheerfully, stepping in with a clipboard.

"Hello, doc. How’s our girl?" Grandpa Belinda asked warmly.

The doctor’s smile lingered. "Well, I have some good news. But I think I should share it with the couple first."

Break it to the couple first? I frowned inwardly, curiosity gnawing at me. What could possibly warrant such suspense?

The doctor stepped closer and handed a set of documents to Damon. My husband froze. Completely. I watched him—waiting, impatient. Yet he remained silent, eyes locked on the papers. One minute passed. Then another. Even the family grew restless, their curiosity as sharp as mine.

Finally, the doctor cleared his throat.

"So, we ran preliminary tests before the surgery, just to ensure everything was safe. Fortunately, every medicine we used was approved for pregnancy."

My breath hitched. "Pregnancy?"

"Yes," he said with a smile. "At first, it was too early to confirm. But today, the results came back positive. Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwell."

I turned to Damon. His silence stretched on, suffocating.

"Damon? Why are you so quiet?" My voice sliced through the air.

He didn’t answer, still staring at the papers like they were written in flames. Perhaps he didn’t even know how to process it all.

"Thank you, Doctor," I said smoothly, offering the smile Damon couldn’t.

Inside, though, I scoffed. This bastard is more shocked than I am. Honestly, what did he expect? I had thought myself barren by now, yet he’s been relentless—taking me every single day, more than once a day, without fail, never letting a single drop go to waste. And now? He looks like a man struck dumb by his own success.

A sudden squeal broke the silence. Laura. Then the rest of the family erupted into cheers. I shook my head at their chaos.

The doctor chuckled softly. "I’ve already called Dr. Green. She’ll be here soon for an ultrasound, once you’re ready."

"Yes, thank you, Doctor," I replied, exhaustion tugging at me. "But right now, I think I need more sleep than all this ruckus."

"That’s perfectly fine," he said with a reassuring nod.

"Let me see that." Mother Amiliee plucked the papers straight from Damon’s hands. He still hadn’t moved, still staring as if the words might change if he looked hard enough.

I arched a brow. "What the hell is wrong with your son? Surely, he should have expected this."

Amiliee burst into laughter, her voice ringing through the room.

"Yeah!" Laura chimed in, her laughter bubbling over. "They’ve been fucking nonstop ever since."

"Laura," Grandma Olivia scolded sharply. "Mind your language."

"Alright, alright," Laura said between giggles. "They’ve been banging nonstop then." She collapsed into more laughter, her husband joining her.

I chuckled despite the unease coiling in my stomach. Pregnant. Me. The word clung to me like something fragile and terrifying.

Pregnant—and we only found out after the surgery, after the accident.