Chapter 191: Chapter 191

I was starting to think my husband had a secret desire to drive me insane.

Every morning began with the same argument or rather, the same overly sweet interrogation disguised as concern. It was a great way to rile me up.

"Did you eat well last night?"

"Did you drink enough water?"

"Are you sure that chair’s comfortable?"

And the one that made me want to scream, "Should you really be walking that much, baby?"

I huffed and puffed in between answers but he never seemed to get the message. I was six months pregnant, not made of glass for goodness sake! But Jace Romano had apparently decided that my pregnancy was a high-risk international mission requiring twenty-four-hour surveillance. I was sick of it.

This morning was no different. I was standing in the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized shirts that barely fit over my growing bump, trying to make pancakes before he came downstairs. I knew if he saw me holding a pan, he’d confiscate it like it was a weapon. The chef was yet to come in for the day, and honestly I didn’t want to wait when I could handle it myself.

But of course, he appeared right on cue. He was barefoot, grey sweatpants, sleepy-eyed, and already suspicious.

"Mira," he said in that low, warning tone that made my name sound too good. "What did we say about you cooking?"

I rolled my eyes, flipping the pancake. "We said you’d stop hovering over me like I’m carrying a ticking time bomb. And yet, here you are." Follow current novels on ⓝovelFire.net

He crossed the kitchen in three long strides and plucked the spatula right out of my hand. "You shouldn’t be standing this long."

"Jace—" I was already protesting but he cut me off.

"I’m serious." He turned off the stove like a man saving the world from disaster. "You should be resting."

"I’ve been resting for hours. You’re acting like I’m about to deliver a baby in the kitchen." I laughed.

His eyes softened but didn’t back down. "If you did, at least I’d be right here."

I stared at him, torn between laughing and throwing the spatula at him. "You’re impossible."

"And you love me," he said smoothly, setting the plate aside and helping me to the nearest chair like I was ninety.

"I tolerate you," I muttered, even as I leaned into him.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You tolerate me because I make sure you don’t fall on your face."

I tried to hide my smile but failed miserably. "You really need a hobby, Jace."

"I have one," he said, placing his hand gently over my bump. His voice dropped. "You and this little troublemaker."

The warmth of his palm seeped into my skin, and for a second, the irritation melted away. He was gentle now, eyes soft with that look that always made me forget what I was supposed to be mad about.

"She kicked again last night," I whispered.

Yes, our gender reveal party was a few weeks back and we found out we’re having a girl. I had never seen Jace so happy. Even though a part of me worried he would be disappointed because I was yet to give him a male heir.

His question cut through my thoughts.

I nodded. "Mhm. While you were in the shower."

I dozed off shortly after so I wasn’t able to tell him about it until now.

"Traitor." His lips curved. "I’m missing all the good parts."

He crouched down in front of me, resting his chin lightly against my knees as he stared at my belly like it held the universe. "She’s gonna have your smile. I just know it."

"And your stubbornness," I teased.

His grin widened. "That’s how we’ll know she’s ours."

The baby kicked again right then. It was just a small flutter and his entire face changed

. I saw it then. It was awe. Pure, unfiltered awe. It reminded me of the first time he’d seen me in my wedding dress; that same reverent silence, like he didn’t deserve what he was looking at.

"She’s going to be a very active girl,," he murmured, voice low.

"She’s you," I said softly.

He looked up at me, and for a heartbeat, it felt like time paused. That was the thing about Jace. Even after everything, the chaos, the violence, the scars we’d both carried he still looked at me like I was the calm that saved him.

And maybe, in some strange way, I was.

"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly, blinking rapidly too.

I blinked, titling my head in what he now knew as my warning stare. "Why else would I be downstairs so early in the morning, Jace?"

"Apologies ma’am. I’ll take that as my permission to flip more pancakes in the pan."

He leaned in, cutting me off with a kiss that left no room for protest. It was soft, teasing, but deep enough that I forgot what we were even talking about. When he finally pulled away, his smirk said it all. "You were saying?"

"Always." He gave me a cheeky grin.

He got up, picked up the pan, and began humming while he cooked. My pregnancy may have taught him a thing or two about kitchen duties because I got cravings at odd hours and the chef couldn’t always be available. Of course he wouldn’t let me cook either as the doting husband he was.

I watched him move around the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy, that faint scar near his temple catching the light. This was the same man who once ordered hits, who made enemies tremble, now fussing over pancake batter like it was a matter of national security. And just like that, the morning felt brighter.

How did we get here? I wondered.

Some days it still amazed me that this was our life now peace, laughter, love. The absence of fear.

He turned to me with a plate a few minutes later. "Your highness, breakfast is served."

"Pancakes with extra strawberries?" I arched a brow.

He narrowed his eyes. "You know the doctor said—"

He sighed. "Fine. A little."

I smiled in victory and took a bite. "Perfect."

He sat beside me, watching me eat like it was his favorite movie. "You know, if I didn’t love you so much, I’d be jealous of how much attention you’re giving that pancake."

"Don’t be dramatic." I grinned. "It’s just food."

"It’s my food. Which makes it special. You love food."

I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my fork.

He loved that sound. I could tell his expression softened instantly. "You should laugh like that more often," he murmured.

I reached for his hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles. "Then stop giving me reasons to argue."

We sat like that for a while, just eating and talking about little things — baby names (he still wanted something classic, I still wanted something Italian), nursery colors, Donna’s endless stream of advice over video calls.

And for a brief moment, I realized how simple happiness could be. Not loud or perfect, just steady.

If someone had told me years ago that my mornings would look — my wife glowing, my kitchen smelling like pancakes with me actually making them, my biggest worry being whether she’s eating enough... I’d definitely have called them insane.

Mira was six months pregnant, and somehow, I was more terrified now than I’d ever been facing a gun.

She caught me staring. "What?"

"Nothing," I said softly. "Just wondering how something so small can terrify me so much."

She raised a brow. "You? Terrified?"

"Completely." I leaned in, resting my forehead against hers. "You and her... you’re everything that could break me."

Her smile faded into something softer. "You’re not going to break."

I wanted to believe that. But a part of me still saw blood when I closed my eyes with ghosts of old sins that whispered I didn’t deserve this peace.

Still, when I looked at her, all that noise quieted.

"I think she’s going to look like you," I said, placing a hand on her bump again.

"And I think you’re going to be the kind of father you never had."

That hit me harder than I expected.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kissed her knuckles gently. "If she gets even half your heart, she’ll be unstoppable."

She smiled. "Then we’ll be fine."

I nodded, watching her for a long moment, memorizing the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the faint curve of her full lips, the quiet contentment that had replaced all the fear we used to carry.

I didn’t know what the future would look like but for the first time in a long time, I really wanted to find out.

Because it was ours now.

With pancakes and laughter and a love I never thought I’d deserve.