Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

With the knowledge I now carried, a sudden chill crept over me the next morning as I found Stefan curled up quietly in his mother’s bedroom. The atmosphere in the room was thick, almost suffocating, as if the very walls still held the weight of Adrian’s vivid, raw memories. It was so intense that I could almost see the shadows of the past lingering there.

My throat tightened painfully as I hesitated in the doorway. Stefan lay on his side, small and still, his dark hair tousled against the pillow like a wild tangle. There was a peacefulness about him that shattered my heart rather than comforted it. I couldn’t help but wonder what fragments of that night he remembered, what images had etched themselves into his mind, and how much Adrian had fought to shield him from those horrors.

I moved forward slowly, my footsteps barely making a sound on the soft carpet beneath me. For the first time, I truly noticed every element in the room—the pale curtains swaying gently with the morning breeze, the faint lingering scent of perfume that hadn’t quite faded, and the bed that no one had slept in for far too long. How must it feel for Adrian to walk through this room day after day, carrying the weight of what had happened here?

Gently, I knelt down and slid my arms beneath Stefan’s small frame. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to waking in my embrace. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but he still fit perfectly against me, his tiny arms instinctively wrapping around my neck. The simple act of holding him softened a knot in my chest I hadn’t realized was there.

Just then, Adrian appeared from the nursery, Sofia balanced carefully on his arm. She babbled softly, tugging playfully at the collar of his shirt. His gaze flickered toward the bed briefly before settling on Stefan. With a quiet tenderness, Adrian reached out and ruffled Stefan’s hair. Stefan lowered his head slightly, leaning into the touch but avoiding his father’s eyes.

Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I offered Adrian a small, reassuring smile—one meant to say, “You’re doing okay.”

“I’ll be home in time for dinner,” he promised quietly before heading out.

Like every morning, Elia drove the kids, Milo, and me to the park. The day was crisp and bright, the sun shining but the air still biting with cold. Stefan insisted on holding Milo’s leash, not once asking for his tablet. Instead, his attention was fully on the dog, laughing softly when Milo tugged him toward a patch of grass or barked at the pigeons fluttering nearby. Watching the boy and his dog together filled me with a warmth I hadn’t felt in days—a quiet, steady comfort.

Elia settled onto the usual bench, his scarf pulled high against the wind, while I crouched beside Sofia. She clung tightly to my fingers, wobbling unsteadily as she tried to stand.

A few feet away, Stefan had dropped to the ground beside Milo, using a stick to help the dog dig into the earth. His coat was already smeared with mud, and I was fairly certain digging holes in the park wasn’t allowed, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. He looked so genuinely happy, so free in that moment.

“Milo,” Stefan said suddenly.

The word was soft, nearly swallowed by the breeze, but I heard it clearly. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. Then I noticed Elia’s head turn, his eyes widening just slightly. My chest tightened so sharply I almost dropped Sofia, who let out a frustrated wail.

Stefan didn’t seem to notice our reactions. He simply kept digging. I wanted to ask him to say it again, to coax more words out of him, but I held back, even though it was difficult.

Adrian sighed quietly through the line, exhaustion threading through his voice. “It still doesn’t explain why he’s so attached to that dog. It’s like an obsession.”

Then, hearing the frustration and confusion beneath his words, something clicked for me. “For Serena, Milo reminded her of Lorenzo,” I said gently. “But for Stefan, it’s different. The dog reminds him of her—of his mother. He lost her so young. If Milo brings him comfort, that’s not something we should fight. It’s healthy, Adrian. It’s him holding on in a safe way.”

Another sigh, longer this time, almost resigned. “Maybe,” he murmured. I could tell he wasn’t fully convinced, but at least he wasn’t arguing anymore. “I need to get back to work.”

“All right,” I said, trying to sound casual even though I wished he would stay on the line a little longer. “Will you still be home for dinner?”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “You did. Thank you. I… I really enjoy having dinner with you.”

I hung up immediately, not wanting to get too sentimental, but my heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.