Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

Darius heard her laugh—her real laugh—for the first time.

It wasn't the careful, polite chuckle she usually offered, nor the brittle, sharp-edged one laced with sarcasm. No, this sound slipped past her lips unguarded, soft yet full, untainted by restraint. It caught him off guard, striking something deep within him he hadn't realized was vulnerable.

His chest tightened, unfamiliar warmth blooming beneath his ribs. It was disarming, how something so simple—a laugh—could shift the ground beneath him.

He found himself wanting more. Wanting to see her like this more often, to memorize how her eyes crinkled at the corners, how the edges of her mouth lifted without hesitation, unshadowed by grief or suspicion.

Lea and Sasha were walking toward the door now, their heads bent together as they chatted animatedly, the conversation light, effortless. Sasha's smile lingered, a glow radiating from her face he could barely reconcile with the guarded woman he knew.

For a moment, she seemed untouched by pain. Untouched by betrayal. Untouched by the storm that had shaped both their lives.

But as soon as she crossed the threshold back into the room, it vanished.

Her expression shifted subtly but unmistakably—the brightness dimmed, her shoulders drew inward slightly, and that familiar quiet stillness settled over her like a veil. The transformation was swift, practiced. The moment had slipped through his fingers before he could hold onto it.

Silently, she walked over to the bed, her movements careful, deliberate. She scooped up Damien with a gentleness that spoke of something sacred, something unwavering. As if he were the only piece of her life she still trusted completely.

Cradling the baby close to her chest, she pressed her lips to each of his tiny fingers, the reverence in her touch making something tighten painfully in Darius's throat.

"My baby," she murmured softly, her voice breaking into a tenderness that didn't match the steel she usually showed him. She scattered a flurry of kisses across Damien's forehead, her eyes shuttered, almost as if she were hiding behind her son.

Darius stood silent, his gaze fixed solely on her. Watching. Measuring.

"You were saying something earlier," he reminded her quietly, though his voice held that unmistakable firmness, the one that brooked no escape. His eyes flicked toward her, sharp. "But before that—why did Samuel call you?"

The question cut cleanly through the air, leaving little room to deflect.

Sasha froze, her lips hovering over Damien's forehead mid-kiss. Slowly, carefully, she laid her son back down on the bed, her hands smoothing over the blanket as if trying to anchor herself in the simple act.

"He was just checking on me," she said at last, her tone neutral, eyes cast downward. "I hadn't told him I was coming here. He must've gone to my place and found it locked."

Her explanation sounded rehearsed, lacking weight, and Darius caught it immediately.

His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking. "Why was he there? Does he visit you often?"

Sasha lifted her gaze, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Why would he?" she countered lightly, though they both knew it wasn't an answer.

His eyes darkened, hard and unrelenting. "Don't twist my words, Sasha," he said, voice low, sharp. "Just answer me."

She inhaled slowly, knowing she wouldn't be able to sidestep him, not this time.

"He doesn't come often," she admitted finally, voice tight. "But… sometimes, yes. He checked on me. That's all."

Darius's eyes narrowed. "Why did he lend you money?"

Sasha frowned, something close to irritation flashing across her face. "You really don't know anything, do you?" she said quietly, the bitterness slipping into her tone before she could stop it.

Darius's gaze sharpened like a blade. "What do you mean?"

For a moment, she hesitated, feeling the weight of the years pressing down on her shoulders. Then, as if a dam broke inside her, the words came tumbling out, raw and heavy.

"You don't know," she breathed, more to herself than to him. The realization was dizzying. He had never known.

She swallowed hard, gathering herself, fingers tightening over the edge of the bed. No more running. No more secrets.

"Do you not know why I tried to kill you?" she asked quietly, her voice roughened by something fragile. "Do you not know the truth about my uncle? His son? How they tricked me?"

For the first time, something flickered across Darius's otherwise unreadable expression. A faint crease appeared between his brows, his gaze sharp but laced now with something else—uncertainty, curiosity.

Sasha felt her pulse hammering beneath her skin, but she pressed on.

"My parents were murdered when I was thirteen," she said, the words jagged, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. "I was their only child. And before they died, they'd already passed everything—our family's inheritance—down to me."

She glanced at him, gauging his reaction, but he remained still.

"My uncle… he twisted the story. Told me you were responsible. That you killed them, that you stole everything. He convinced me that revenge was the only way to honor them." Her throat tightened. "And I believed him. I built my life around that lie."

The silence between them was thick, suffocating.

Darius didn't speak, his eyes locked onto hers, but something in his gaze had shifted. He was listening.

Sasha exhaled shakily and forced herself to continue.

"But after I… after I carried out my plan," she said, her voice breaking slightly over the admission, "my uncle and Ryan changed. They started pressuring me to marry Ryan. I'd always refused before, but that night—"

Her hands curled into fists, fingernails digging into her palms.

"That night, I woke up to Ryan in my room," she whispered, her voice hollow. "His hands were on me. He—he tried to touch me, kiss me."

Her breath shuddered, but she didn't stop.

"I fought back. I grabbed the first thing I could—a vase—and hit him. He passed out. I thought… I thought my uncle would protect me. But instead, I overheard them talking later, laughing about how they tricked me. How they used me to get rid of you. How they wanted my inheritance."

Her voice broke on the last words. Tears welled up, but she wiped them away quickly, refusing to let them fall.

"If I had known the truth earlier," she said quietly, her voice raw, "I never would've done it. I swear to you, Darius. I never would've hurt you."

The silence that followed was heavy, weighted with everything unsaid between them.

Darius's gaze remained unwavering, his expression carefully blank, but his eyes burned with something indecipherable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "And how did you end up in Campfires?"

Sasha swallowed. "I ran," she said simply. "I drove for hours. I didn't care where I ended up. I just needed to get away. That town… it felt safe."

He didn't respond immediately. His face unreadable, his body unmoving.

The quiet stretched between them like a taut wire.

"Darius?" she called hesitantly, voice softer now.

He let out a faint hum of acknowledgment, eyes never leaving hers.

She licked her lips nervously, then asked, "Why didn't you know about this? About what they did?"

His answer was blunt, cutting straight to the heart. "Because I wanted to hear the truth from you."

Her breath caught, a painful hitch in her chest.

"You found me," she said after a beat, her voice trembling slightly. "You knew where I was. But you never came?"

He held her gaze, something hard flickering beneath the surface. "Did you want me to?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She didn't know how to answer.

He didn't wait for her.

"You could've called me," Darius continued, his tone quiet but edged with something sharp. "If you knew you weren't at fault… why didn't you?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and pointed.

Sasha dropped her gaze, the weight of guilt pressing into her chest like a stone. She had no answer—not one that wouldn't sound hollow.

Silence lingered until she finally spoke, her voice cautious, deliberate.

"As far as I know you," she murmured, "you always get what you want. And after I betrayed you, after I left you bleeding… I thought you would come for me. I thought you would demand answers."

Her voice dropped lower, nearly a whisper now.

"But you never did."

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, Darius's eyes darkened, shadows pooling there, his gaze sharp but wounded.

"Why should I have?" he asked quietly, bitterness woven through each word. "Wasn't that what you wanted? To be free of me?"

Her breath hitched painfully.

And in that instant, the truth unraveled between them.

He had never hated her. He hadn't chased her down, not out of indifference, but because she had cut him deeper than she realized. Instead of seeking her out, he had let the wound fester in silence. And she—she had done the same. Both too proud, too hurt, too afraid.

Her heart clenched painfully. If only she had known. If only she had seen past her own guilt, past the lies.

If only she had gone to him instead of running.

Unable to contain the storm of emotions crashing inside her, Sasha turned away from him, her back curling defensively as though she could shield herself from the weight of his gaze. Silent tears welled, slipping past her lashes, soaking into the pillow beneath her cheek.

The night stretched on, thick with unspoken words and the kind of stillness that hummed with unease. Neither of them spoke, and the darkness seemed to press down heavier for it.

Dinner had been no different—eaten in strained, suffocating silence.

Damien, oblivious to the tension that blanketed the room, had fallen asleep between them, his tiny breaths steady, his small hand wrapped trustingly around Sasha's finger. She focused on feeding him, letting her fingers gently trace over his delicate knuckles as if grounding herself through the simple, quiet act.

Beside her, Darius lay still, his body close but distant, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity she could feel but didn't dare meet. He said nothing. The space between them felt like an ocean, vast and unbridgeable.

Then, at last, his voice broke through the heavy silence—a voice roughened not just by exhaustion but by years of torment and unanswered questions.

"That night," he said, low and raw. "Was it part of your plan too?"

Sasha froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes widening, shimmering with the pain she had buried deep. His question sliced straight through her, cutting past every defense she'd tried to cling to.

"Was it meant to make me trust you?" His tone didn't waver, but there was something brittle beneath it, something that sounded dangerously close to breaking.

Tears gathered, trailing silently down her cheeks. The ache in her chest bloomed sharp and merciless.

Her voice came out soft, shaky. "Didn't I already have your trust before that?"

Darius's jaw tensed, the muscle ticking. His eyes darkened as if the answer he sought only twisted the knife deeper.

"Then why?" he ground out, the question ragged, desperate in its simplicity.

She dropped her gaze, unable to hold his stare. Her arms curled protectively around Damien as she breathed unevenly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Because… because I wanted it."

The words hung there, fragile and exposed, and she felt the shift in the air between them—the way his breath caught, stilled completely.

Her fingers grazed Damien's downy hair, as if drawing courage from the tiny life they'd created. She forced herself to meet Darius's eyes again, her voice trembling but honest.

"It wasn't a part of my plan, Darius." Her confession felt like tearing open an old wound. "That night… it was never a lie."

A shadow flickered over his face—something dark and unreadable, something she couldn't name. His eyes searched hers, but whatever he found there wasn't enough to soothe the storm raging beneath his composed surface.

"Then why did you still do it?" he asked, quieter this time, but no less deadly. There was a weight behind the question, as if he needed to understand, needed something—anything—that would make sense of the betrayal.

Her lips parted, but no words came. There were too many truths tangled inside her, too many regrets, too many broken pieces that refused to fit together neatly.

Before she could force herself to speak, his phone rang—sharp, slicing through the fragile moment.

He snatched it up quickly, careful not to disturb the child sleeping between them. Without another glance in her direction, he stood and walked out of the room, the sound of the door closing behind him like a final blow.

Sasha sat there, unmoving, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. She wiped at her damp cheeks, forcing back the last remnants of her tears.

The truth was finally out.

She had given him the answer he'd waited years to hear.

But the hollow ache inside her whispered what she feared most.

It might not be enough to fix what they had broken.