Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

Darius held Sasha's hand, his grip firm yet achingly gentle, as though afraid she might shatter beneath his touch if he held her any tighter. The contrast between his strength and the delicate way he handled her felt unnatural, foreign, even to himself. She lay motionless, her face pale, lashes casting faint shadows against her skin, yet there was a peaceful stillness to her features—serene, fragile.

His gaze flickered anxiously over her face, searching for the smallest sign—an eyelid twitch, a shift in her breathing, anything to show she was coming back to him. But there was nothing. Only the quiet rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin hospital blanket.

The faint creak of the door broke the silence like a ripple in still water. Darius turned sharply, every muscle coiled tight, only to see the nurse stepping inside, her expression soft and understanding. In her arms, she carried a small, tightly wrapped bundle.

She approached him quietly, her voice low and careful, as though wary of disturbing the fragile moment.

"A boy," she said softly, almost reverently, sensing the gravity of what she was handing over.

Darius already knew. The doctor had told him earlier. Yet hearing the words spoken aloud again, paired with the solid, impossible weight of the bundle placed into his arms, sent something sharp and unfamiliar tearing through his chest.

He looked down, drawing back the corner of the blanket to reveal the tiny face beneath. His breath caught.

It was like staring into a mirror from another lifetime—one where the edges were softer, the lines still unfinished. His nose. His lips. The sharp cut of his cheekbones, unmistakable even in miniature form. The resemblance was undeniable.

His son.

The realization hit harder than he expected, tightening something in his throat. His grip shifted instinctively, more protective now, his large hand cradling the baby's fragile head with a care that felt instinctive, primal.

A flicker of wetness stung at the back of his eyes. He blinked it away before it could fall, swallowing hard.

The baby slept soundly, unaware of the tempest of emotions raging inside the man holding him.

Then, a small sound—barely audible, but sharp enough to cut through the fog clouding his thoughts.

Darius's gaze snapped toward the bed.

Sasha stirred.

Every nerve in his body went taut as he watched her face, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly, achingly, her lashes fluttered open, dark eyes hazy and unfocused as she fought her way back to consciousness.

Her gaze sharpened—and the very first thing she saw was him.

And then, she noticed what he held.

Her eyes dropped to the small bundle resting securely in his arms, and realization dawned. It hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her before she could brace herself.

Tears welled instantly, spilling down her cheeks unchecked.

Darius leaned forward without hesitation, his movements precise and careful, as though afraid any sudden motion might frighten her away. He shifted, lowering the baby gently onto her chest.

Sasha let out a shaky, breathless sound—half sob, half laugh—as she looked down at the tiny life nestled against her.

Her son.

Her Damien.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out, feather-light, to stroke his soft cheek. His skin was impossibly smooth, impossibly warm, and she couldn't stop the fresh tears that slid down her face. She dipped her head and pressed a tender kiss onto his downy hair, inhaling the faint, new scent of him like it was the first clean breath she'd taken in years.

"My baby," she whispered, voice quivering, barely audible beneath the lump in her throat. "I waited so long for you. You're finally here… I'm so happy."

Darius said nothing, only watching the scene before him in utter silence. His eyes were unreadable, but something burned behind them—something he refused to let spill over.

Slowly, Sasha lifted her gaze, meeting his. Her heart clenched.

She wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, to feel the solid comfort of his chest beneath her cheek, to confess how much she had missed him, how much it hurt to be apart. To share this overwhelming, heart-wrenching joy with him.

But the words caught in her throat. She hesitated, trapped in the fragile space between them.

There was something else she needed to say. Something she had carried with her for months—an unspoken promise. She wanted to tell him their son's name. Damien. A name she had chosen carefully, with Darius always in her mind. But would it bridge the distance between them? Or widen it further?

Before she could gather the courage to speak, the door creaked open once more.

Lea and Leon stepped into the room.

Lea's eyes immediately softened as they landed on Sasha. Without hesitation, she crossed the room quickly, her movements light but purposeful.

"Sasha, are you okay?" Lea's voice brimmed with warmth, concern radiating from every word. She leaned close, eyes scanning Sasha's face. "How do you feel?"

Sasha hastily wiped at her tears, forcing a small, shaky smile despite the knot still lodged in her chest. "Yeah… the stitches hurt, though," she admitted softly.

Lea's expression melted, and she bent down to press a gentle kiss to Sasha's forehead. "You're strong. I'll ask the doctor to give you something for the pain."

Sasha nodded faintly, relief swirling faintly beneath the exhaustion.

"Are there any complications?" she asked, her voice quieter now, afraid of the answer.

Lea settled onto a stool beside her bed, shaking her head reassuringly. "None. Everything went smoothly. You and the baby are both fine."

A wave of relief washed over Sasha, easing some of the tightness in her chest.

Lea's gaze dropped to the bundle nestled against Sasha. Her smile softened, her voice filled with gentle curiosity. "And how is he?"

Sasha glanced down at the sleeping infant, her fingers brushing over his tiny back. Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "He's fine."

Lea's eyes sparkled. "Can I hold him?"

Sasha hesitated just for a moment, protective instincts warring briefly with trust. Then, carefully, she passed the baby to Lea, watching closely as Lea cradled him with practiced ease, her movements sure, confident.

Sasha's breath caught again.

Had Darius looked closely at their son? Had he seen it—the undeniable reflection of himself in the baby's features?

Lea glanced down at the infant in her arms, a knowing smile slowly spreading across her lips.

"The baby definitely got Darius's genes," she murmured, casting a brief glance toward Darius, then back at the child. "Like father, like son."

Sasha's heart swelled at the words, her smile growing wider despite the tears still drying on her cheeks. The acknowledgment felt like a balm, wrapping around the ache inside her.

Then, suddenly, Lea gasped.

A warmth spread across her blouse, and she looked down, startled, before breaking into laughter.

"Well," she grinned, shifting the baby slightly in her arms, "someone's already making his mark."

Sasha laughed softly, a watery sound, her eyes flicking instinctively to Darius again.

And in that brief, unguarded moment, something unspoken passed between them—a fragile thread neither was quite ready to grasp, but it was there nonetheless.

Sasha frowned, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head slightly. "What's so funny?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.

Lea could barely catch her breath between fits of laughter, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "Your son doesn't like me," she finally managed, giggling. "He just peed on me!"

Sasha's lips parted in surprise before a laugh bubbled up, unexpected and warm. The sound felt foreign after everything she'd endured, but comforting all the same. The word **"son"** echoed in her mind, resounding like a bell she hadn't realized she'd been waiting to hear. A strange, tender ache bloomed in her chest, making her heart swell painfully.

The baby stirred in her arms, his tiny nose wrinkling, mouth twitching as his face scrunched up. Within seconds, a sharp, insistent cry burst from his lips, filling the room.

Lea's smile softened as she gently reached out, taking the baby with practiced ease. "Looks like he's hungry again," she murmured, shifting him carefully. "You need to feed him."

From across the room, Leon had been leaning casually against the wall, arms folded, his sharp eyes scanning everything in quiet calculation. At Lea's words, he straightened, clearing his throat deliberately. "Alright, Lea. Let's wait outside," he said, giving her a pointed look. "Call if you need anything."

Lea lingered, her gaze flickering between Sasha and Darius, tension pressing between her brows. She hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave Sasha alone with him after everything. Finally, she glanced down at the damp patch on her dress and lifted an eyebrow at Leon. "My dress is wet," she announced smoothly, her voice light but purposeful. "Come help me wash it."

Leon shot her a quizzical look, clearly not fooled, but said nothing. He merely gave her a brief nod before following her out, closing the door behind them without a word.

As soon as they left, silence settled over the room like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

Sasha swallowed, the air suddenly feeling too dense in her lungs. She shifted slightly in bed, trying to sit up straighter, but pain lanced through her abdomen, sharp enough to steal her breath. She let out a gasp, instinctively clutching at the sheets.

Darius was beside her before she even registered his movement.

His large hands were on her shoulders, steady but firm, grounding her effortlessly. "Don't move," he ordered, his voice quiet but carrying that familiar authority she hadn't heard in months.

Sasha froze beneath his touch, her pulse skittering.

The feel of him—solid, warm, unshakable—sent a ripple through her. His scent, faintly familiar beneath the sterile hospital air, hit her next, awakening something fragile and raw deep inside her chest.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard, determined to suppress the swirl of emotions rising too quickly—anger, longing, regret, confusion—all tangled together in a knot she couldn't unravel.

Darius's hands lingered a second longer than necessary before he pulled back, his expression unreadable. But the faint crease between his brows betrayed something beneath his cool exterior.

Without a word, he reached for the buttons of her hospital gown, undoing them one by one with careful, controlled movements. His knuckles brushed lightly against her skin, each touch igniting sparks that made her stomach tighten, even as she kept her face neutral.

Positioning the baby gently, he guided Damien to her breast, his actions precise, measured, as though any show of softness might crack the fragile veneer holding them both together.

Sasha remained silent, biting down on every word hovering on the tip of her tongue. There was too much unsaid, too much between them.

As Damien latched, a sudden sharp pain shot through her, catching her off guard. She hissed in a breath, wincing, her body tensing involuntarily.

Darius caught it instantly.

His dark eyes flicked to hers, narrowing slightly. "Should I call Lea?" he asked, his voice lower, a hint of concern threading through his usual cool tone.

Sasha's lips trembled as she swallowed hard. "Maybe… ahh!" Another wince escaped her before she could mask it.

Without hesitation, Darius turned on his heel and strode toward the door, disappearing into the hallway.

Moments later, the door swung open again, and Lea rushed inside, her expression tense. She moved quickly to Sasha's side. "What's wrong?" she asked, scanning her face, then the baby.

Tears pricked at the corners of Sasha's eyes, her frustration mounting. "I don't know why, but it hurts when he's feeding," she confessed, her voice catching.

Lea's gaze softened, and she crouched down to Sasha's level, observing carefully. After a few seconds, she adjusted Damien's position gently, angling his body closer.

"He wasn't latched deep enough," she explained patiently, her tone soothing. "Here, pull him in tighter. He needs to be flush against you like this."

As soon as the adjustment was made, the discomfort began to ebb, replaced by a steady pull that felt bearable, almost natural.

Sasha exhaled shakily, relief washing through her. "Oh… so that's why it hurt?"

Lea smiled, nodding. "Yeah. It's normal at first. Are you feeling better now?"

"Much better," Sasha murmured, glancing down at Damien, who was now peacefully nursing, his tiny fists curling against her skin.

A quiet smile tugged at her lips despite herself. Her fingers drifted over his downy-soft hair, marveling at the delicate warmth of him.

"You're so active, baby," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Leaning down, she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, then another, and another, unable to stop herself.

Lea watched silently for a moment, a knowing look in her eyes, before she rose and quietly stepped back, giving them space.

The minutes stretched out, filled only by the baby's soft sounds and Sasha's shallow breaths.

Eventually, Darius returned, the door clicking softly behind him.

He paused at the foot of the bed, his gaze unreadable as it lingered on her, then drifted down to the baby in her arms.

Sasha lifted her eyes briefly, her lips parting, unsure how to bridge the yawning distance between them. She searched for something neutral, something light to shatter the growing tension.

"How long does it take for a baby to finish feeding?" she asked, forcing a small smile, her voice almost casual.

Darius's gaze didn't waver. His eyes darkened slightly, the shadows under them more pronounced. "As long as he needs," he replied, his tone clipped, each word measured.

But there was something else beneath it.

Something cold.

Something distant.

Maybe even resentful.

The smile slid from Sasha's face, her throat tightening. She didn't dare meet his eyes again.

Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on Damien, focusing on the rise and fall of his small chest, the gentle weight of him in her arms, anything to avoid the heaviness pressing between her and Darius like a wall.