Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Victor's gaze darkened as he stared at her in silence for a long moment.

Under the weight of his scrutiny, Isadora shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't trying to be difficult, nor did she doubt him; she simply needed to process her tangled emotions alone.

The stillness between them thickened, every tick of the clock stretching out.

Then Victor spoke, his deep voice breaking the quiet. "Alright."

Relief washed over Isadora at his agreement. She glanced toward the spare room. "You can sleep in the guest room. There's fresh bedding in there."

With that, she turned and slipped into her own bedroom. She pulled out a set of pajamas from the wardrobe and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. The day's constant tension left her exhausted; by the time she lay down, she drifted into sleep almost instantly.

Out on the balcony, Victor stood with one hand in his pocket, his dark eyes unreadable as he gazed into the night.noveldrama

The evening moon hung high in the vast sky, casting a silvery glow. Beneath its cool light, Victor's silhouette looked solitary, almost fragile against the dark.

He fished a cigarette from his pocket—a rare indulgence since Isadora's pregnancy had begun, but tonight his nerves were frayed. He lit up, drawing deeply, letting the nicotine burn in his chest.

From the balcony, he could see the window to Isadora's room. The light went out.

So she really had gone to sleep.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

Finishing his cigarette, Victor

stepped inside for a shower. But instead of heading to the guest room, he settled onto the living room sofa. The place at Brocade Heights was small; from the couch, he could see the master bedroom door. The sofa itself was a tight fit for someone of Victor's tall, broad frame, but he leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried to rest.

Around midnight, Isadora woke, parched. Still half-asleep, she tossed aside the covers and started to get up for a glass of water-only for a sudden, sharp cramp to seize her calf.

She winced, stifling a cry, and pressed her hand to the knotted muscle.

At that moment, the bedroom door swung open. A tall figure filled the doorway, and the room was instantly flooded with light, making Isadora squint.

Before she could react, Victor strode over and sat beside her, lifting her leg onto his lap. His hands found the cramped muscle, kneading expertly.

"Here?" he asked, voice low.

Isadora grimaced. "A little lower."

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Victor bent over her leg, brows drawn together in concentration. Isadora couldn't help but notice the strength and gentleness of his hands, the warmth of his fingers easing the pain from her calf and spreading comfort through her body.

"Feeling better?" he murmured, his dark eyes lifting to meet hers.

Isadora didn't have time to look away. Their gazes collided, unexpectedly close. She could almost feel his breath mingling with hers.

Victor looked into her clear, dark eyes, seeing his own reflection in their depths.