The older woman looked like she was reeling, looking up at Amara with the same green eyes.
“That-that’s your father, Mumu.”
Amara felt her heart stop.
No.
No way.
What the hell was she talking about?
“No,” Amara whispered.
She felt Dante’s grip tighten on her hip, his eyes on her mother.
“Are you sure that’s the same man? Amara’s father?”
Her ma nodded, looking closely at the screen. “He’s aged but it’s definitely him. He ordered your abduction? That’s not possible. No. He’s your father!”
Her father? She’d never had a father. He had left so early in her life she didn’t even remember him anymore. It hadn’t traumatized her or anything. Her mother had been more than enough for Amara. But what the hell?
“I don’t understand,” Amara croaked, confused, scared, not good.
“I kicked him out soon after you were born, Mumu,” her mother told her. “He had been… toxic and I didn’t want that in your life. So I asked him to leave and he left. I was prepared to tell you about him but you never asked in any detail.”
She hadn’t seen that one coming.
She had absolutely not seen that one coming.
It felt surreal. She couldn’t believe this. She wouldn’t believe this. Because believing this meant believing that her father had been the one to sanction her trauma, her torture, her rape. Believing this meant believing he’d been the one to hold Dante’s brother hostage while making his mother bleed. Believing this meant believing he was a monster and not just a stranger who never wanted to be a part of her life.
It was the silence in the room that slowly made it real to Amara. She felt the tar in her lungs again, dripping, pulling her under, weighing her down as she started to breathe faster. Her mind started to process but failed. Her heart started to hammer and her stomach got tight.
She felt something heavy on her chest as her vision blurred, swaying slightly on her feet. Something pulled at her arms, making her fall and sit on something warm. The scent of masculine, musky cologne cut through the fog, seeping into her lungs, dispersing the tar with the feeling of safety it brought.
Amara focused her gaze to find herself sitting on Dante’s lap, his strong, muscular arms around her, squeezing her tight.
Lulu jumped on the table, coming towards her, years of being with Amara having made her sensitive to an anxiety attack.
Amara took a deep breath and pulled the pet into her arms, hugging her to her bosom, stroking her as the cat started vibrating like a little motor against her, calming down her racing heart.
“So, MrX is my father,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word as she felt her man still, before he relaxed again, giving her a soft squeeze before staring at her mother.
“What did he do when you were with him?”
The words were quiet, permeating the air in the room.
Her ma inhaled, her slightly wrinkled hands shaking as she absorbed the news. Amara couldn’t even imagine how she must have been feeling. “Xavier was a soldier in the Outift at the time. It was right around when I joined the staff as a cook. He was very brazen, and we spent a night together, and it got very toxic, very fast. He’d had a horrible upbringing and the more I saw him, the more I realized just how… wrong he was. Your birth gave me the push to throw him out of our lives. I never wanted his shadow to touch you.”
Amara felt her throat get tight at the love her mother had for her, relating to it now in a way she never had before. Hadn’t she done the same when she’d found out she was pregnant? Hadn’t she run away to protect her child from this world?
Amara took a hold of her mother’s hand, her eyes shimmering. “I love you, Ma.”
Her mother’s gaze softened. “I love you, Mumu. Are you okay, baby?” she asked her.
Amara shrugged. She didn’t know.
Dante kept his arms around her, his voice kind as he spoke. “Will you give us the room, Zia? And please get yourself some tea and come back.”
Her mother nodded. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
Amara watched her walk out and close the door behind her, and she let the cat down on the floor, turning in Dante’s lap to look at him.
“Now I know how Morana feels,” Amara told him softly, her heart hurting. “The sins of our fathers do stay with us. I’m sorry for what he did to your mom, Dante.”
Dante’s jaw clenched under his scruff, his dark eyes closing as he put a hand behind her head and pulled her forehead to hers, just breathing her in, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythm.
“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” he told her, his voice gruff.
Amara swallowed. “He was there. He came to see me there and let it happen. What kind of a monster does that?”
His hand on the back of her head tightened. “Promise me something, Amara.”
Amara opened her eyes to see the dark chocolate pools of his, waiting for him to continue.
“If I ever lose my way, lose my soul to this place-” he told her, his eyes fierce “-and become toxic to you or our children, promise me that you’ll end me.”
“Dante-”
“Promise me.”
Her mouth trembled. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”
He pressed his forehead to hers deeper, and they stayed silent, absorbing the dark drop of ink that swirled in their lives.
“Any soreness?” the gynecologist asked Amara, rubbing cold gel over her lower abdomen.
Amara shook her head, Dante holding her hand. “I’m feeling tired though. I don’t know if it’s everything going on mentally or because of this little one.”
The doctor smiled. “Your body is creating another human being, Amara. It’s taxing. You need to rest more if you feel like it. In fact, I recommend you don’t get yourself in stressful situations given your risky pregnancy.”
Amara nodded and she and Dante both looked at the screen as the wand moved over her skin, the black and white flaring to life.
“Ah, look at that,” the doctor told them. “Do you want to know the gender? I can see it.”
“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” Dante asked from her side, rubbing her ring.
“Indeed it is,” the doctor confirmed, pointing to a white shape on the screen. “That’s her right there, nestled in her mother’s womb, all comfortable and safe. And she looks healthy. Congratulations.”
Amara felt her throat lock as emotion clogged her, the reality of the life inside her crashing over her, the reality of the life that should have been there but they’d lost weighing her down. She could feel the same emotions rolling over the man at her side, his fingers flexing against her hand, his eyes surprisingly moist.
“Could you take some pictures please?” Dante asked in a heavy voice.
The older woman nodded. “Sure.”
Dante looked at her, pressing their foreheads together.
One baby there, one baby missing. Amara didn’t think that would ever not hurt.
“How are you dealing with it, Morana?” Amara asked as they talked on video again, her with a hot chocolate in her bedroom and her friend with some wine in the living room.