Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 184: What I missed

Chapter 184: What I missed

After dinner, I make my way to our room, the soft click of the door barely breaking the silence. The warm glow of the lamps is muted, blending with the silvery moonlight streaming through the large windows. Thorne stands there, framed by the gentle shimmer of the night, his broad shoulders relaxed for once, his focus entirely elsewhere.

In his arms, he cradles Mirelle, her tiny body snug against his chest. She’s fast asleep, her soft breaths almost inaudible. Thorne’s hand moves in a rhythmic, absent-minded motion, lightly tapping her back, a gesture so natural and tender it takes my breath away.

I pause by the door, unable to step further into the room just yet. The sight floors me. My husband, the man who carries an aura of relentless intensity and quiet danger, looks so serene, so unguarded in this moment. The sharp lines of his face, usually set in a scowl or stoic determination, soften under the moonlight, revealing a side of him few are lucky enough to see.

It’s strange, but I feel like an outsider watching something sacred. The connection between Thorne and Mirelle is palpable, and I can’t help but marvel at the tenderness he shows her. The man feared by so many is utterly devoted to this tiny, innocent life in his arms.

I take a step forward, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene. "Thorne," I say softly, not wanting to startle him.

He turns his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the faint curve of his lips. It’s not a full smile, but it’s there, and it’s for me. "She fell asleep during the story," he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, as if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the moment.

I cross the room, drawn to him like always, and gently place a hand on his arm. "You’re amazing with her," I whisper, my voice filled with awe I don’t bother hiding.

His eyes meet mine, and there’s something raw in them, something vulnerable. "She deserves this," he says simply. "A quiet night. Peace. Love."

I lean my head against his shoulder, my heart swelling. "And so do you, Thorne," I reply, my fingers brushing Mirelle’s soft hair. "You deserve this too."

For a moment, neither of us speaks. We just stand there, wrapped in the quiet, the weight of the day forgotten in the glow of the moon and the warmth of our family.

I finally decide to bring it up, the question that’s been lingering in my mind since dinner. "I saw you tonight, during dinner," I begin softly, brushing a few strands of hair off Mirelle’s delicate face. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Thorne grumbles, his voice low and evasive as always when he doesn’t want to talk.

"Thorne," I say again, this time in warning. He knows I won’t let it slide.

He exhales heavily, the kind of sigh that carries the weight of unspoken thoughts. Slowly, he turns to face me, his gray eyes meeting mine. There’s a vulnerability there he rarely lets show, and it tugs at my heart.

"It’s just..." he starts, his voice quieter now, "hearing you talk about the pregnancy. I kept thinking about all the moments I missed—moments I couldn’t be there for you."

His words hang in the air between us, heavy with regret.

I reach up, my hand finding his cheek, my thumb brushing against his skin. "Thorne," I say gently, "it’s not your fault."

"I should have found you sooner," he insists, his jaw tightening. "If I had—"

"If you had," I interrupt softly, "things might have turned out differently, yes. But that doesn’t matter now. You’re here, Thorne. You’re here for me, for Mirelle. That’s what matters."

He looks down at our daughter, still asleep in his arms, her tiny face peaceful and unaware of the turmoil in her father’s heart. "I wanted to protect both of you," he murmurs. "I still do. But I can’t help thinking about what I missed—her first kicks, the cravings you always laugh about, even the nights you couldn’t sleep."

I smile faintly, leaning closer to him. "You’re making up for it now, every single day. And Mirelle? She’s going to grow up knowing how much her father loves her. That’s what’s important, Thorne. Not the past, but what we’re building now."

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. He just looks at me, then down at Mirelle, his expression softening as he pulls me closer. "You make it sound so simple," he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"It is," I say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We can’t change the past, but we have now. Let’s focus on that."

Thorne nods, his arms tightening around me and Mirelle as if grounding himself in the present. "I’ll always be here," he promises, his voice steady and sure.

"I know," I reply, resting my head on his shoulder. And in that moment, with the three of us together under the glow of the moonlight, it feels like enough.

I step closer to him, my heart full as I rise onto my tiptoes, leaning up for a kiss. Thorne doesn’t hesitate, meeting me halfway, his lips warm and sure against mine. It’s not just a kiss—it’s an outpouring of everything he feels but struggles to say. His love, his regret, his devotion—it’s all there, and it makes my chest tighten in the best way possible.

It’s so cute, so thoroughly him, and I can’t help but smile even as I pull away, resting my forehead against his.

"I love you, my beloved star," he says, his voice soft but filled with certainty, his gray eyes searching mine as if he’s etching the moment into his memory.

"And I love you too," I reply with a smile that feels like it could light up the whole room.

In this quiet moment, with the moonlight bathing us and Mirelle sleeping peacefully between us, I feel something I haven’t in a long time—complete and absolute contentment.

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