Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 85

**Through Shadows We Painted Our Forever by Erynn Vel Coren**

**Chapter 85**

**VALENTINA**

The sounds of laughter filled the air, a delightful symphony of childhood joy echoing through our home. Stefan had invited a friend over from school, a boy named Ethan, and their exuberant voices danced together like a playful melody.

They sprawled on the living room floor, completely absorbed in their world of Legos, where the colorful bricks transformed into castles and spaceships, their imaginations soaring higher than the ceiling. I leaned against the doorframe for a brief moment, allowing myself to bask in the warmth of their happiness. Stefan’s grin was radiant, illuminating his face in a way that made my heart swell. It was remarkable how effortlessly children could bounce back from heartache; just a few hours spent with a friend could wash away the shadows of lonely nights filled with silence.

Sofia, my little artist, was stationed at the kitchen table, surrounded by a riot of crayons. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips in concentration as she diligently colored a crooked rainbow, the colors bleeding into one another in a chaotic yet charming masterpiece. At her feet, Milo and Luna lay curled up, their gentle snores punctuated by the occasional twitch of their tails, dreaming their own doggy dreams.

It was one of those rare mornings when everything felt deceptively normal, as if the universe had pressed pause on our troubles, allowing us to breathe.

I poured myself another steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling my senses, and settled down at the kitchen island. The steam rose, momentarily clouding my vision, and in that fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of her again—long, dark hair cascading down her back, the faint silhouette of a woman turning away. I blinked, and the image evaporated like morning mist.

Days had slipped by since I last ventured upstairs, days since I stood in that stark, sterile white room, listening to Serena unravel a story that felt like a distant echo in my mind, something I could barely grasp. The more I replayed her words, the more they transformed from a dream to a haunting reality. She had spoken with such quiet precision, each detail meticulously placed, yet perhaps therein lay the problem. It all felt too perfect, too constructed.

I shook my head, forcing myself to anchor back into the present.

“Mom?” Stefan’s voice broke through the fog, his tone bright and hopeful. “Can we go outside later?”

“After lunch,” I replied, my voice automatic, almost robotic.

“Okay!”

The sound of their laughter faded away, swallowed by the rhythmic clatter of Lego bricks, a comforting backdrop to my swirling thoughts.

The laundry basket loomed by the kitchen door, an ever-present reminder of mundane responsibilities waiting to be addressed. I sighed, pushing my coffee mug aside, and picked it up. Perhaps engaging in something as ordinary as folding clothes would help quiet the chaotic noise echoing in my mind.

As I rifled through the basket, Adrian’s shirts still carried the faint trace of his cologne, a scent that both soothed and unsettled me. I pressed one to my face, inhaling deeply, but quickly folded it and set it aside, unwilling to dwell on memories that threatened to overwhelm me.

Just then, my phone buzzed to life, a text from him lighting up the screen.

[Why didn’t you answer when I called? – A]

I exhaled slowly, placing a hand to my forehead as a headache began to throb behind my eyes. I didn’t answer because I was terrified of the emotional avalanche that might follow if I heard his voice. The thought of breaking down and spilling everything was too much to bear.

No, I typed back swiftly, my fingers moving with a determination that belied my inner turmoil. Plus: How’s work going? – VI

His reply arrived almost instantly, but I chose to ignore it for the moment, my mind occupied by the task at hand.

I picked up one of Stefan’s sweatshirts, smoothing out the sleeves when a crayon tumbled from the pocket, clattering to the floor. As I crouched to retrieve it, something else caught my eye—a small glint of gold hardware peeking out from one of my jeans that had been languishing in the basket for a while now.

Curiosity piqued, I tugged it free.

It was a hair clip.

My throat went dry as I recognized it. It was the same hair clip I had found in the living room before, and now, having met Serena, its presence felt disturbingly significant. It must have belonged to her.

I sank down slowly onto the edge of the counter, still clutching the clip in my trembling fingers. It was as if the air around me had thickened, the weight of the moment pressing down with an eerie intensity.

“Mom!” Stefan’s voice sliced through my reverie, pulling me back to reality. “Ethan wants to stay for lunch. Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah,” I managed to call back, my voice barely above a whisper, thin and fragile. “That’s fine.”

I set the clip down on the counter, but my fingers refused to release it. I stared at it, lost in thought, until I forced myself to tuck it into my pocket, as if hiding it could somehow erase the unsettling feeling it brought.

The dryer buzzed suddenly, startling me.

I picked up my phone, my heart racing, and dialed Adrian’s number.

“Valentina?” His voice was a balm, yet it stirred a tempest within me.

“I’m sorry, I just got a little busy. I miss you,” I said, my voice trembling with unspoken emotions.

“I miss you too. I’m sorry that I had to extend the trip a little longer. There’s just a lot of work to do.”

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