Chapter 8.2
Chapter 327
Chapter 8.2
At midnight, the bells of the nearby church rang out, their chimes carrying through the cold winter air. Andrea lay still in bed, silent tears sliding down her checks, soaking into her pillow as she listened to the distant voices singing Christmas carols. Somewhere out there, people were celebrating–families gathered around warm fireplaces, children laughing, homes glowing with soft golden lights.
But not here. Not for her.
Through her bedroom window, she could see the decorations strung across neighboring houses, twinkling in reds, greens, and golds. A picture of warmth. Of
love. Of everything she had never truly known.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop crying, but the ache inside her only deepened.
She had spent every Christmas like this–alone. Struggling. She had been born to a mother who had barely cared, who had seen her as an obligation rather than a child to be loved. And just like that, year after year, Christmas had come and gone, another reminder of how little she mattered to the world.
For a brief, fleeting moment, she had believed things might be different.
Victor Remington had made her believe. Charming, wealthy, magnetic Victor. He had spun dreams out of sweet words and grand gestures, made her feel like she finally belonged somewhere. That she was finally wanted.
But it had all been a lie.
And now, she was back to where she started–except worse.
A single mother. Alone again. Trapped in the same cycle her own mother had lived.
다
She covered her face with her hands as another sob escaped her lips, her shoulders trembling. Her child would be born without a father, just as she had been. Would they grow up resenting her, the way she had resented her mother? Would they see her as weak? Would they hate her for not being enough?
The fear wrapped around her chest, suffocating.
Andrea curled her hands over her belly, as if she could somehow shield her child from the loneliness clawing at her soul.
“I’ll do better,” she whispered, voice thick with tears. “I promise, I’ll do better.”
But promises made in the dark felt small and fragile, easily shattered.
“Hey, Andrea… Andrea…”
A gentle knock on the door, followed by soft footsteps. She barely registered them.
Asher entered the bedroom, his voice cautious, his presence warm. But Andrea didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her, pulling her into a side hug.
“Shh… everything’s okay. Shhh…” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.
1
“No, I know,” Andrea choked out between hiccups, but she wasn’t fooling anyone–not him, not herself.
1/2
5:01 pm
Chapter 327
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the snot she wiped hastily on the bedsheet. It was an ugly cry, the kind she had been holding back for months, maybe even years. But Asher didn’t seem to care. He just held her, steady and unwavering, as if he had nowhere else to be.
She felt his eyes on her–soft, kind, endlessly understanding–and something inside her cracked wide open. Her head dropped onto his shoulder, and she broke.
She cried like she had never cried before, sobs tearing from her chest, shaking her entire body. She clung to him, burying her face into the fabric of his shirt. and let it all pour out–the loneliness, the exhaustion, the overwhelming fear of a future she had no control over.
“Andrea,” Asher whispered, rubbing slow circles on her back. “Talk to me.”
Her voice trembled, nearly lost beneath her sobs. “My baby is going to hate me…”
Asher stiffened slightly behind her, his grip tightening. “Why would you even think that?” he asked, his voice Jow, as if the very thought pained him.
“Because–because he’ll be just like me.”
The words spilled out in broken pieces, raw and desperate.
“I won’t be able to give him Christmas gifts… just an old sock, a broken radio, five dollars to buy candy if it’s a good year.” Her breath hitched. “He’ll hate me because I won’t be able to afford his football classes, or school trips to see the Statue of Liberty. He’ll hate me because he’ll have to wear the same pair
of torn shoes for three years, even when they don’t fit anymore.”
She sobbed harder, gripping his shirt in her fists, her entire body trembling.
“He’ll hate me because he won’t have a father.” Her voice broke. “Because a few years from now, he’ll probably be right here in this same room, staring out at other people’s decorated houses, watching their warm Christmas dinners from the outside. And all he’ll know of Christmas is that it’s just another day…
another reminder of what he’ll never have.”
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At midnight, the bells of the nearby church rang out, their chimes carrying through the cold winter air. Andrea lay still in bed, silent tears sliding down her checks, soaking into her pillow as she listened to the distant voices singing Christmas carols. Somewhere out there, people were celebrating–families gathered around warm fireplaces, children laughing, homes glowing with soft golden lights.
But not here. Not for her.
Through her bedroom window, she could see the decorations strung across neighboring houses, twinkling in reds, greens, and golds. A picture of warmth. Of
love. Of everything she had never truly known.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop crying, but the ache inside her only deepened.
She had spent every Christmas like this–alone. Struggling. She had been born to a mother who had barely cared, who had seen her as an obligation rather than a child to be loved. And just like that, year after year, Christmas had come and gone, another reminder of how little she mattered to the world.
For a brief, fleeting moment, she had believed things might be different.
Victor Remington had made her believe. Charming, wealthy, magnetic Victor. He had spun dreams out of sweet words and grand gestures, made her feel like she finally belonged somewhere. That she was finally wanted.
But it had all been a lie.
And now, she was back to where she started–except worse.
A single mother. Alone again. Trapped in the same cycle her own mother had lived.
다
She covered her face with her hands as another sob escaped her lips, her shoulders trembling. Her child would be born without a father, just as she had been. Would they grow up resenting her, the way she had resented her mother? Would they see her as weak? Would they hate her for not being enough?
The fear wrapped around her chest, suffocating.
Andrea curled her hands over her belly, as if she could somehow shield her child from the loneliness clawing at her soul.
“I’ll do better,” she whispered, voice thick with tears. “I promise, I’ll do better.”
But promises made in the dark felt small and fragile, easily shattered.
“Hey, Andrea… Andrea…”
A gentle knock on the door, followed by soft footsteps. She barely registered them.
Asher entered the bedroom, his voice cautious, his presence warm. But Andrea didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her, pulling her into a side hug.
“Shh… everything’s okay. Shhh…” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.
1
“No, I know,” Andrea choked out between hiccups, but she wasn’t fooling anyone–not him, not herself.
1/2
5:01 pm
Chapter 327
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the snot she wiped hastily on the bedsheet. It was an ugly cry, the kind she had been holding back for months, maybe even years. But Asher didn’t seem to care. He just held her, steady and unwavering, as if he had nowhere else to be.
She felt his eyes on her–soft, kind, endlessly understanding–and something inside her cracked wide open. Her head dropped onto his shoulder, and she broke.
She cried like she had never cried before, sobs tearing from her chest, shaking her entire body. She clung to him, burying her face into the fabric of his shirt. and let it all pour out–the loneliness, the exhaustion, the overwhelming fear of a future she had no control over.
“Andrea,” Asher whispered, rubbing slow circles on her back. “Talk to me.”
Her voice trembled, nearly lost beneath her sobs. “My baby is going to hate me…”
Asher stiffened slightly behind her, his grip tightening. “Why would you even think that?” he asked, his voice Jow, as if the very thought pained him.
“Because–because he’ll be just like me.”
The words spilled out in broken pieces, raw and desperate.
“I won’t be able to give him Christmas gifts… just an old sock, a broken radio, five dollars to buy candy if it’s a good year.” Her breath hitched. “He’ll hate me because I won’t be able to afford his football classes, or school trips to see the Statue of Liberty. He’ll hate me because he’ll have to wear the same pair
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
