Chapter 297

For a split second, I felt my heart stop. Nathan straightened, looking back at Layla.

“How about that tour of the library?” he asked Layla, shooting me a momentary sideways glance as though trying to prove a point to me. “Like I promised.”

Layla’s eyes shone with interest. “I thought we would go tomorrow,” she said, “but now is good, too. What do you say, Olivia?”

I swallowed, nodding. “Sure.”

As we walked toward the library, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia.

The library had been our sanctuary, a place where Nathan and I had spent countless hours reading when we were kids. Almost every weekend, we would head to the library and leave with a new stack of books to read.

But now, the sight of its burnt sections and the ongoing construction was a tangible reminder of our vulnerability.

Layla looked around, observing the expert builders that Nathan had hired hard at work. They were meticulously crafting, replicating the once magnificent wooden carvings and detailed masonry. It was obvious that they were taking their time to make sure that the repairs were seamless.

“I have contacts,” Layla mentioned casually, brushing her fingers over a partially charred section of a wooden pillar. “They can help source some of the rare materials you need for the restoration. The library should be a monument to your leadership, Nathan.”

Nathan nodded, visibly pleased. “That would be helpful. Thank you.”

“We’ll discuss the details in our private meeting later,” Layla replied, giving Nathan a significant look.

I felt my heart skip a beat.

A private meeting?

I wasn’t informed about this. I tried to mask my unease, but the weight of exclusion settled heavily on my chest. I was supposed to be Nathan’s Luna, his queen, the woman beside him through thick and thin.

Yet, there I was, feeling like a third wheel, while my mate discussed important matters with his ex.

The memories of our shared moments in the library rushed back. The countless evenings we spent nestled in its alcoves growing up, surrounded by stories about valiant knights, true love, and exciting endings.

How had things become so complicated?

As Layla continued her observations and discussions on the library’s restoration, I felt more like an observer than a participant. I wanted to be involved, to share Nathan’s burdens and triumphs, but the wall between us was palpable.

He had done so much since the attack on the town, and yet I felt as though I knew about none of it. All because of a decision that I had to make during a dire situation.

By the time we made our way back to the square, Layla was smiling confidently, as though she had achieved a victory. Nathan seemed deep in thought, likely pondering the reconstruction plans.

And me? I was grappling with a blend of jealousy, regret, and a fierce determination to reclaim my rightful place beside Nathan.

“Well,” Layla said with a smile, “it was nice seeing both of you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nathan.”

“Yeah,” he said, pinching the infant’s cheeks again and making the baby giggle. “See you tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything.”

Nathan turned to me, just as Layla’s slender form began to fade into the distance.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, the shadows of the park’s tall trees playing over his face.

I tried to hold back the torrent of words that bubbled up, simply turning my gaze to the picturesque pond adjacent to us. Ducks floated peacefully on the water, the small ripples glittering in the waning sunlight. Their serenity only seemed to highlight the storm brewing within me. But before I could slip away and find refuge on one of the benches or hidden pathways, Nathan’s hand lightly touched my arm, stopping me.

“Olivia,” he began, trying to search my face for answers, “you can’t just walk away. I told you that Layla is here to help. Don’t you realize that now?”

The once charming path with its cobblestone finish seemed to narrow. The soft chirping of birds and the distant laughter of children playing felt stifling. I inhaled deeply, the fresh scent of the nearby roses doing little to soothe my mounting frustration.

“It’s Layla’s baby,” I finally uttered, the weight of the revelation making my voice quiver.

“What about him?” Nathan asked, genuinely perplexed.

“He has your eyes,” I whispered, my gaze fixating on the pond, hoping the gentle sway of the water would somehow absorb the tension. “The same shade, the same... intensity.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. The sturdy oak trees around us seemed to lean in, their leaves rustling as if they too awaited his response. “You think that child... is mine?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” My voice broke slightly, the surrounding scenery now a blur. “The way Layla looked at you when she talked about her son. The resemblance in his eyes. It’s hard to ignore.”

“Olivia,” he began, pausing to compose himself, “that’s a serious accusation to throw around.”

“I know what I saw, Nathan.”

My eyes stung with impending tears. The park, once a place of comfort and retreat, now felt like an arena of confrontation. Couples strolled hand in hand, children raced past with ice creams, yet it felt as if we were in our own isolated bubble of conflict.

Nathan’s face was a canvas of emotion. Surprise, anger, confusion—all these feelings played out in rapid succession.

“Do you honestly believe, from the bottom of your heart,” he began, his voice dripping with disbelief, “that I would father a child with my ex and keep it from you?”

I took a shuddering breath, trying to find the right words. “Given how distant you’ve been lately, yes, I think you’re capable of hiding things. It’s been difficult, Nathan. Every day, feeling like there’s more space growing between us.”

He clenched his fists, clearly grappling with a mix of emotions. The distant echo of children's laughter sounded, highlighting the sharp contrast of our situation. “This isn't about the baby or Layla,” Nathan finally retorted. “This is about us, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s about us!” I exclaimed, frustration evident in my voice. “You’ve been distant, Nathan. And now, seeing Layla here with a child that has a striking resemblance to you... How am I supposed to feel?”

“Confused, hurt, yes. But to accuse me of being the father of another woman’s child? Olivia, that’s not the solution.”

I stared at him, the weight of our shared past heavy between us. The park, with its lush green lawns and serene ambiance, seemed at odds with our heated exchange. A gentle breeze tousled Nathan’s hair and sent ripples through the pond. For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“You’ve been away, Nathan. Leaving me to tend to Aurora and Elliot all alone,” I said softly, desperation creeping into my voice. “Do you even realize how that feels? Especially after... after everything that’s happened?”

His gaze held mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. But the hurt from past arguments, past mistakes, clouded the connection that once was so clear between us.

“You’ve always found a way to make it about you,” Nathan countered, his voice cold. “Yes, I’ve been distant, but have you ever thought about why? Maybe I’ve been trying to process everything too. Our disagreements, the decisions you’ve made...”

“And you think that gives you the right to abandon me with the twins?” I shot back, the pain evident in my voice. “To make decisions without even consulting me? To have… To have private meetings with your ex?”

He hesitated for a brief moment, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chirping of birds filling the gap. “Olivia, this isn’t just about me. We’ve both made mistakes. We’ve both said and done things we regret.”

The setting sun cast long shadows on the cobblestone path, the golden hues painting the scene with an ironic tranquility.

“You say that as if it’s so easy to forget. As if it’s simple to move on,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Nathan looked away, his eyes darkening. “You’re the one who agreed to give Aurora over to that witch,” he said, his voice heavy with bitterness.

“And I’ve paid for it,” I murmured. “I’m trying to figure out how to stop this. How to fix it. But you’re not helping.”

Nathan paused for a moment, clearly hurt.

“I would help,” he said, his voice soft. “Except I’m not Aurora’s ‘real dad’. Remember?”