Craved by the Wrong Volkov-Chapter 294: You can’t fix this

Braelyn’s POV

I couldn’t take my eyes off Raphael as he stood there, rigid, his shoulders tense. His jaw was clenched, fists tight at his sides, but it wasn’t anger that held him frozen.

It was hesitation. His eyes, so often sharp and confident, flickered with uncertainty. The baby’s heartbeat echoed faintly from the monitor, and for the first time that night, I saw the conflict warring behind his calm facade. It was the first time he was hearing a baby heartbeat.

He didn’t want this. Not really. He had always wanted a child of his own, yes, but this... this wasn’t the plan. This was Amelia’s child, and that truth sat like a weight he hadn’t yet learned to carry.

I studied him closely, the way his lips pressed into a thin line, the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders as he fought to process the reality of what was happening. And yet, beneath that hesitation, I saw something he didn’t know I could see. The part of him that longed for this, that always had.

It was buried under layers of calculation, pride, and control, but it was there, undeniable, as real as the tiny heartbeat echoing through the room.

My chest tightened. Relief, sorrow, and something I couldn’t name twisted inside me. This was his child, a living reminder of what he truly desired, yet it wasn’t coming from me not that it really mattered but I felt my self-worth shrink. I knew my thinking was right, but

A long breath escaped my lips.

Natalia and the rest were excited, but I felt out of place, an intruder in a moment that was not mine. A sore eye stung.

I glanced at the monitor once more, my gaze lingering on the tiny, rhythmic pulses. "Congratulations," I whispered softly, my voice barely above the sound of the heartbeat. I didn’t know if he heard me, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t want to linger in this room. It felt suffocating, like something was pressing down on me. I quietly slipped out, my footsteps soft against the floor, my heart still hammering in my chest.

Outside, my gaze landed on the figure leaning against the wall with a bored expression. Lucien was waiting just outside the room, leaning casually, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You alright?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he crossed the hallway toward me.

I gave him a small nod, more out of habit than anything else. "I just... need some air," I said, forcing a calmness I didn’t feel.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself as my feet led me down the hallway. Lucien’s worried gaze stayed locked on my back, he knew I needed space. But barely had I taken a few steps when the door pushed open, and I felt Raphael behind me.

He didn’t speak at first, only walked briskly, matching my pace, closing the distance. Then he reached for my arm, his grip was firm, grounding me. His voice was low, almost vulnerable. "Braelyn, wait," he said, catching my gaze. It was like he finally registered my earlier words.

"I... I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t... I didn’t expect to feel this way," he stuttered. "Please don’t give me that look," he pressed.

I arched a brow at him, my green eyes studying him closely. "What look?" I asked, dumbfounded, my gaze drifting to Lucien, who was watching like a hawk, ready to step in the moment things got out of hand.

He released a heavy breath. "Like you have given up," he said carefully. "Like you’ve already given up on us." He repeated my gaze.

I gave him a smile. "What do you think?" He flinched at my words despite my tone being calm.

"I can fix this. I will find a way to," he argued, trying to sound calm, but I could sense the panic underneath.

"Fix this..." I scoffed, finding his words ridiculous. I almost laughed. "How are you going to fix this?" I waved at the door.

My voice grew steady. "Not everything can be fixed. It is already too late, Raphael." I said coldly, pulling my hand from his grasp.

His shoulders slumped slightly, something flickering past his eyes. "It’s too late, Raphael? Action has consequences. What do you plan on doing? Making me adopt your bastard child? What exactly?" I asked, and his face paled.

"Nothing can fix this. You can’t fix the fact my heart doesn’t race for you anymore." His face fell. He reached for me, but I evaded his touch. "It feels like I stopped loving you. I gave up long ago, and the only thing that kept me was the will," I admitted.

"Braelyn... please... I didn’t..." he pleaded.

I stopped him, then took a step closer, my chest tightening at the honesty in his tone. "I know," I said softly, my voice quiet, steady. "It’s not what you planned. But it’s alive. That’s what matters."

His shoulders slumped slightly, a breath escaping him that I hadn’t known he’d been holding. "She can... Amelia can..." he began, and then faltered, the weight of responsibility crashing down on him.

I stepped closer, though not too close, giving him space yet presence. "She can abort it," I completed his statement, and he froze. He really wanted to give up on the child despite craving it.

"How can you suggest that? It’s a life. A life I could never create..." His expression faltered. "I will never be the reason for an innocent life to be taken." I pointed at his chest, poking his heart.

My voice grew heavy, and my eyes stung, but I held it in. "It is your blood, Raphael. Are you really going to throw it away?"

His eyes met mine, and in that moment, raw emotion shone through the mask of calculation he always wore.

He exhaled, a shaky breath that I felt more than heard. "I... I just... I didn’t know," he confessed, and for the first time, he wasn’t the cold, untouchable man I knew. He was a man caught between desire, fear, and responsibility.

"I don’t know what to do, Lynn. I love you," he said. "I love you more than everything, even that child." His voice was choked with emotion.