Where Darkness Learned Breath by Rylor Dusk 92

Posted by ADMINMMADMIN, ? Views, Released on January 17, 2026

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92 Chapter 92: That Evening

Aria pov

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Noah bounced into the living room wearing his dinosaur pajamas, his hair still damp from his bath. Water droplets clung to the ends, leaving dark spots on his collar. He smelled like vanilla bubble bath and toothpaste.

“Mama! Daddy says we can have ice cream!” He

launched himself onto the couch next to me. The cushion dipped under his weight, bouncing me slightly. His small body was warm against my side, still radiating heat from the hot bath.

“Did he now?” I looked over at Damien, who stood in the kitchen doorway looking decidedly guilty. He had one hand braced against the doorframe and the other was shoved in his pocket.

“Just a small bowl,” Damien said. “He ate all his

vegetables.”

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“It’s a school night.” I kept my voice firm, but

Noah’s fingers were already playing with the hem of my shirt. His hands were soft and slightly

damp.

“It’s also Tuesday.” Noah’s logic was flawless. “Ice cream Tuesday!”

“Since when is Tuesday ice cream day?”

“Since Daddy said so!” Noah grinned. His teeth were bright white, freshly brushed. “Right, Daddy?”

Damien’s mouth twitched. I could see the smile he was fighting. “I may have mentioned something about ice cream Tuesdays being a

tradition.”

“A tradition that started tonight?” I raised an eyebrow.

“All traditions start somewhere.” He moved into the kitchen. I heard the freezer door open, the

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suction breaking with a soft pop. The metal scrape of a drawer as he pulled out the ice cream scoop. “Besides, it’s been a long day we all

deserve ice cream.”

Noah nodded sagely. “Very long day.”

I fought a smile, my chest felt tight but in a good way. “What was so long about your day, mister?”

“Finger painting!” He held up his hands

dramatically. I could still see faint traces of red paint under his fingernails. “So much painting,

Mama. I’m exhausted.”

“Exhausted,” I repeated. “I see.”

Damien returned with three bowls of ice cream.

The bowls were cold against my palms when he handed me mine. Condensation was already forming on the outside. The ice cream was vanilla with chocolate swirls–Noah’s favorite, the sweet

smell mixed with the vanilla from his bath.

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He settled on Noah’s other side as the couch dipped again. Now Noah was sandwiched between us, his little legs swinging happily.

We ate in comfortable silence. The only sounds were spoons scraping against bowls and Noah’s running commentary on his day. The ice cream was cold and smooth on my tongue. Sweet enough to make my teeth ache.

“And then Tommy said dinosaurs are extinct but I said maybe some are hiding.” Noah took a big spoonful of ice cream. Some of it stuck to his upper lip. “In caves and stuff.”

“Smart thinking.” Damien ruffled his hair as water droplets scattered, catching the light from the lamp.

“That’s what I said!” Noah beamed. “Tommy doesn’t know everything.”

“No one knows everything,” I said softly, looking

at Damien over Noah’s head.

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92 Chapter 92: That Evening

His eyes met mine. They were that ice–blue color

that Noah had inherited. In this light, they looked

darker.

“Some of us are still learning,” Damien said quietly, his voice was rough, lower than usual. “Still trying to figure things out.”

“Daddy’s learning to make different types of pancakes!” Noah announced.

“Progress,” I murmured, my gaze still locked with

Damien’s.

“Definitely progress.” His voice was rough. I saw

his throat move as he swallowed.

The moment stretched. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

Noah yawned, breaking the tension. The sound was small and squeaky. “I’m sleepy.”

“Bedtime.” I stood, taking his empty bowl. The ceramic clinked against mine. “Come on, baby.”

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“I’m not a baby.” Noah protested sleepily, his eyes. were already half–closed. “I’m almost four.”

“Almost four,” I agreed, leading him toward his

room.

Damien followed us. I could feel him behind us, close but not touching. His footsteps were soft on the hardwood floor.

He hovered in Noah’s doorway as I tucked him in. The nightlight cast soft shadows across the walls.

Noah’s room smelled like clean sheets and the

lavender spray I used on his pillow.

“Mama?” Noah grabbed my hand. His grip was getting weaker as sleep pulled at him. “Can Daddy read the story tonight?”

I glanced back at Damien, his shoulders were

tense. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“If Daddy wants to.”

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“I want to.” Damien moved to the bed as the mattress creaked slightly as he sat. He picked up the dinosaur book on Noah’s nightstand. The pages were worn soft from constant reading. “But I have to warn you, I’m not very good at the roaring parts.”

“That’s okay.” Noah snuggled into his pillow as the fabric rustled softly. “I’ll help.”

I watched them–Damien reading with exaggerated voices, Noah correcting his dinosaur facts. Their heads were bent together. Noah’s dark curls against Damien’s darker hair. Both of them completely absorbed in each other.

My chest ached. Actually ached, like something was pressing against my ribs from the inside.

This was what I’d wanted. What I’d dreamed of during those lonely nights in London. A father for my son, a family. But wanting it and trusting it were two different things.

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“The end.” Damien closed the book. The pages whispered shut. “Goodnight, buddy”

“Goodnight, Daddy” Noah’s eyes were already closing. His breathing was slowing down, evening out. “Love you.”

Damien froze. His hand, reaching to turn off the lamp, trembled slightly. I could see it shake in the soft light.

“I love you too,” he whispered as his voice cracked on the last word. “So much.”

Noah was already asleep, his chest rose and fell steadily. His mouth was slightly open. We left the room quietly as I pulled the door mostly closed behind us. It made a soft click. The hallway seemed darker after Noah’s nightlight. Cooler too as I wrapped my arms around myself.

“He said he loves me.” Damien’s voice was rough.

His

eyes were suspiciously bright and wet “He

said”

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“He does.” I touched his arm, his skin was warm through his shirt. I could feel the tension in his muscles. “You’re a good father, Damien.”

“I’m trying.” He looked down at me, we were standing close. I could smell his cologne- something woodsy and clean. “I’m trying to be what you both deserve.”

“I know.”

We stood there in the hallway. The silence felt heavy. Thick. I could hear the clock ticking in the living room, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen even my own breathing.

“About the gala” he started.

“I’m still going with Lucas.”

His jaw tightened, i saw the muscle jump. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Why?”

“Because I want to.” I crossed my arms, the fabric of my shirt felt thin suddenly. “Because it’s my

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choice. Because I don’t have to explain myself to

you.”

“I’m not asking you to explain.” He stepped closer. I could feel the heat coming off him. “I’m asking you to reconsider.”

“Why should I?”

“Because” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. It left the dark strands sticking up messily. “Because the thought of you with him makes me want to put my fist through a wall.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes blazed. Even in the dim hallway light, I could see the intensity in them. “You’re doing this deliberately. Pushing my buttons, testing my limits.”

“Maybe I am.” I held my ground even though my heart was pounding. “Or maybe I just want to go to a party without my ex–husband hovering.”

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92 Chapter 92: That Evoning

“I’m not hovering.”

“You’re hovering right now.” I could feel his presence like a physical weight.

He opened his mouth then closed it. I saw him swallow hard. Then he stepped back. The air

rushed in between us, cold where his warmth had been.

“You’re right.” He held up his hands but they were shaking slightly. “I’m sorry. You should go, try to have some fun. Lucas is” He swallowed hard again as his throat moved. “Lucas is a good man.”