Pansy was in the middle of another grueling round of potty training with Princess Peony, who, for the third time that morning, had decided the parlor rug was the ideal place to relieve herself. "Honestly, Peony, this is the last time!" she muttered, hands on her hips as she surveyed the tiny pug with a mixture of exasperation and affection. Lady Lemongrass watched from her favorite spot on the couch, looking altogether too pleased with the chaos that her new "sister" was causing.
Just as Pansy began rolling up the rug with a heavy sigh, her fireplace erupted in green flames, and Luna's tear-streaked face appeared, looking frantic.
"Pansy!" Luna's voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but laced with panic.
Pansy's heart dropped instantly. She abandoned the rug and crouched in front of the fireplace. "Luna? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
Luna nodded but sniffed, her voice thick with emotion. "I… I think I need help, Pansy."
"Oh, Merlin, love—just stay where you are. I'm coming over right now." Without a second thought, she threw on her robe, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and called back to Lady Lemongrass and Peony, "Hold down the fort, girls." She stepped into the flames and called, "Nott Manor!"
The living room was a chaotic mess, as if a storm had torn through. Cushions were strewn about, shards of glass glittered across the floor, and several pieces of furniture lay overturned. Every detail spoke of a frenzy, but it was the faint sound of Luna's muffled sobs, carried through the silence, that sent Pansy's heart racing with worry.
"LUNA, DARLING, WHERE ARE YOU?" Pansy called out, straining to keep her voice steady as she looked around.
"In the bedroom!" Luna's voice was hoarse and trembling, barely audible, but it was enough.
Without a second thought, Pansy rushed up the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing against the silence. Pushing open the bedroom door, she found Luna curled up at the foot of the bed, surrounded by a cluster of anxious house-elves who were doing their best to console her. Their small hands reached out to offer tissues, murmur words of comfort, but Luna's face was buried in her hands, her body trembling with quiet sobs.
Pansy's heart clenched at the sight. She approached, her usual confident stride softened with genuine care as she settled down beside her friend. Without hesitation, she wrapped an arm around Luna, pulling her close.
"Luna, love, what happened?" she whispered, brushing a tear-streaked strand of hair from Luna's cheek. "Shh, I'm here now. Whatever it is, we'll handle it together."
Luna tried to speak but broke into sobs, her hands clutching Pansy's arm as though afraid to let go.
One of the house-elves, Bobsy, clambered up onto the bed and joined them, his eyes wide and somber. Pansy gave him a comforting smile and a quick kiss on his wrinkled cheek. "Bobsy, darling," she said gently, "please, tell me what's going on. Why is she so upset?"
Bobsy looked down, wringing his hands as he sniffled. "Oh, Miss Pansy, it was terrible… Miss Ginny—she was here last night. She tried to hurt Master Theo!"
Pansy's stomach dropped, and her grip tightened around Luna. "What do you mean? Ginny tried to hurt him? Why?"
Luna, her voice barely more than a whisper, took a shaky breath. "She barged in… it was so sudden. Theo and I were… making love. She just appeared, furious, and before we could react, she… she had a knife, Pansy. She went after Theo, screaming that he'd pay, that he deserved to suffer."
Pansy's face darkened with shock and fury, her hand reflexively rubbing Luna's back as her friend trembled. "Merlin's sake… she actually came here, armed?"
Luna nodded, her eyes wide and glassy as she recounted the terrifying ordeal. "Theo managed to get away, but… but she wouldn't stop. She chased him across the room, yelling that she knew what he'd done."
Bobsy stepped forward, nodding grimly. "Yes, Miss Pansy, she said Master Theo was to blame, that he was responsible for… for Mr. Weasley's death."
Pansy's heart pounded. The tangled emotions Ginny must have been harboring—the grief, the anger. It all made sense, but Ginny crossing that line? It was unthinkable.
"She thinks it's Theo's fault," Luna murmured, her voice breaking. "She knows he's the one who created the Fiendfyre that… that led to Ron's death. She blames him, Draco, and Blaise for it all."
Pansy's mind raced as she took in the gravity of Luna's words. It was true that their husbands had been involved in that violent moment, but she also knew each of them had taken actions they believed necessary to protect those they loved. Ron's death had left a scar, but Ginny… Pansy could hardly believe she'd taken matters into her own hands.
"It's not just Theo," Luna murmured, her voice tight with a painful mix of guilt and frustration. "She resents all of us, Pansy. She can't understand why we stayed. Why we chose… this life. She hates that we're in love with them, even after everything."
Pansy bit her lip, feeling a rush of both anger and helplessness. "To be fair, the boys did… well, they did kill Ron and Lavender," she said softly, acknowledging the harsh truth. It was the kind of unspoken acknowledgment that kept the threads of their world stitched together but made everything so complicated.
Luna's eyes flashed with anger, her voice raising an octave as she replied. "I know, Pansy. But she tried to kill my husband! My husband!" She clenched her fists, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, as if finally releasing the full weight of what had happened.
Pansy immediately pulled her into a tight hug, stroking Luna's hair as her own anger simmered beneath the surface. "Shh, darling, it's okay. You're safe now. Tell me what happened… what did she do exactly?"
Luna took a shaky breath, her body still trembling as she leaned against Pansy. "I called Hermione and Draco for help when Ginny barged in. She was out of her mind, screaming and brandishing that knife. They managed to disarm her, thank Merlin, but… I was… oh, Pansy…" Luna buried her face in her hands, her voice breaking. "I was naked, in front of everyone. It was humiliating. Hermione had to help me get dressed, and we came upstairs to get me away from everything. I just felt so… exposed. Like I didn't belong in my own skin."
"Oh, sweetheart," Pansy murmured, holding Luna even closer. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that—none of this is your fault. And don't worry about them seeing you. I promise you, no one looked at you. And even if they did, they didn't see you."
"But Draco and Blaise?" Luna whispered, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I know they were busy with Ginny, but… it was mortifying, Pansy. I just… I wish I could disappear."
Pansy brushed a tear from Luna's cheek, speaking with a fierce protectiveness in her voice. "Listen to me, love. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. You're stronger than anyone else I know, and you handled yourself with so much grace—even when things spiraled out of control. You are allowed to feel exposed and hurt, but you don't have to feel ashamed. Draco and Blaise were concerned with Ginny; you know how protective they are of you and Theo. That's all they saw—your well-being."
Luna sighed, her hand still trembling as she clutched Pansy's arm. "I don't know, Pansy. Everything feels so fractured. We were all once so close, and now… now it's like I don't even know Ginny anymore. And she's carrying a child—Blaise's child. She can't be this reckless, not now. We need an intervention or something. This has gone too far."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Parkinson sunroom, a gilded cage of opulence, was suffocating in silence. The only sound was the relentless ticking of the grandfather clock, a metronome of impending doom. Pansy was a statue of icy composure, her black cocktail dress a stark contrast to the storm brewing beneath the surface.
"Well," she began, her voice a brittle whisper, "let's get this over with. Care to explain why everyone gathered at our house for this intervention?" Her gaze, cold and calculating, swept the room, daring anyone to challenge her.
A hush fell over the room as everyone exchanged nervous glances. It was clear that this was no ordinary
"We have a huge rift in the family," Luna said, her voice as serene as ever. The words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the casual tone. "I invited everyone here to neutral territory so that we can have a normal conversation."
Neville's eyes darted around the room, a mixture of concern and apprehension etched on his face. "Go on," he urged, his voice barely a whisper.
Luna continued, her voice steady and firm. "We need to address the escalating tension. Ginny, please explain your actions towards Theo. Blaise, we need clarity on your decision to confide everything in her. And Draco, I expect a justification for involving everyone in this turmoil."
Ginny shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to Blaise before she spoke. "I needed to know the truth. I couldn't live with the lies anymore."
Blaise sighed deeply. "I confided in her because she deserved to know the truth. I hadn't anticipated such a drastic escalation."
Draco leaned back, his expression a mask of frustration and defiance. "I owe no explanations to anyone."
Ginny's voice, a raw and trembling cry, pierced the air. "How can you possibly deny killing my brother?"
Hermione sat in tense silence, her composure a barely held facade. Little Lysander, slept peacefully in her lap. Beside her, Lady Lemongrass, offered silent companionship and a calming influence.
Everything was her fault. Ron's death. Ginny's suffering.
"Baby girl, listen," Blaise began gently. "I know you idolise your brother. He was your brother. But it's important to understand that others perceive him differently."
Ginny stared at her husband, her expression a mixture of disbelief and anger.
"Ask Saint Potter why they haven't spoken in years," Theo said flatly. "Ask him what he's done."
She finally found her voice. "Ginny, Ron was not perfect," she began carefully. "He wasn't always the best partner."
Ginny's voice was a raw scream. "So, that's why you had them kill him?"
"Your brother was abusive," she retorted, her voice rising. "Not just to me. Get off your high horse, Ginny."
"How can you be the only one of our group who doesn't understand the concept of found family?" she continued, her voice laced with disbelief. "How can you be pregnant and actively resent your husband? What happened to you, Ginny?" Her voice trailed off as she retreated into herself.
"What did he do?" Ginny whispered, her voice barely audible.
Draco scooted closer, his hand reaching out for hers in silent support.
"He... he was abusive, Ginny," she explained, her voice trembling. "He did unspeakable things to me and his other girlfriends. Have you never noticed Lavender's bruises? The constant clumsiness? I beg to differ."
Ginny sobbed uncontrollably, her body wracked with silent sobs. The weight of the revelations was crushing. She stumbled to her feet, her vision blurred with tears, and fled the room, the heavy front door slamming shut behind her.
She sat there silently, her mind racing. The weight of what she'd just heard was immense. A heavy silence settled between all of them, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock.
"I wondered for a long time, what my life could've been if instead of coping, I'd been healing from the things that weren't my fault," she finally murmured, her voice barely audible. "And then I found Draco. The true Draco."
"Darling, this is not your fault, it never was," he comforted her, his voice gentle and reassuring. He reached out to take her hand, offering silent support. "You are brave, my love. Stronger than anyone in this room."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neville sat alone in the dining room, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. The flickering candlelight did little to soften the storm brewing inside him. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table as he waited for her to return. The tension was palpable, a thick, suffocating silence enveloping the room.
When she finally entered, her face was a mask of uneasy composure. She knew this conversation was inevitable, but the dread that accompanied it was overwhelming. She opened her mouth, perhaps to try and lighten the mood or explain herself, but his voice cut through the air, sharp and unyielding.
"Well, that was a shit show," he said dryly, his tone laced with disappointment.
"Oh, it was," she replied, feigning casual agreement, though she felt her heart racing. She hated feeling cornered, especially by someone who could disarm her with a single look.
His gaze turned colder as he studied her, as though searching for something hidden behind her composed exterior. "So… you knew about it?" His question was simple, but his tone spoke volumes. The unspoken frustration, the sense of betrayal—it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.
She faltered, caught off-guard. "I… I did," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. There was no point in lying; he could read her too well.
Silence stretched between them like a chasm. His jaw tightened, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something unfamiliar, something that made her stomach twist uncomfortably. "So you decided to keep information from me again, Pansy?"
Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the ground shifting beneath her, the solid foundation they had built together cracking. "Nevie, I didn't… it was before—"
"Enough," he cut her off, his voice low and hard. He didn't shout, but the restrained anger was far worse. "Get out of my sight."
"Ne—Nevie," she stammered, the nickname slipping out instinctively. It was the name she always used to soften him, to remind him of their connection, but tonight it fell flat, dissolving in the charged air between them.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if her plea pained him, but when he opened them, the warmth she sought was absent. "Parky," he said, the nickname almost an accusation, "do not talk to me right now."
The silence that followed was deafening. She felt an ache bloom in her chest, sharp and unrelenting. She tried to speak, to explain herself, to make him understand, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she took a tentative step toward him, her hand reaching out as if to bridge the distance between them.
But his gaze remained cold, his expression unyielding. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh finality, and without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving her standing there, alone in the dim light.
As the door closed behind him, she felt the weight of her choices settle on her shoulders, heavier than ever before. She sank into the nearest chair, her hands trembling. She had always prided herself on her ability to keep secrets, to navigate the murky waters of alliances and betrayals. But this was different. This was Neville, the one person she never wanted to hurt, the one person who had shown her unwavering loyalty and love.
Minutes passed, though it felt like hours. She sat there, replaying every word, every look, every moment of the confrontation, wondering if she could have said something differently, if she could have stopped him from walking away. She realized then, with a sharp pang of regret, that her secrecy—her need to control everything around her—had finally come back to haunt her in the most personal, devastating way.
Slowly, she rose from the chair, her movements heavy with exhaustion and sorrow. She made her way upstairs, to the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom, though it felt emptier now than it ever had. She climbed into bed, curling up on her side, the emptiness beside her a harsh reminder of what she'd risked. And as the weight of her choices pressed down on her, she couldn't shake the fear that she'd finally pushed him too far.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor toward his study. She knew him well enough to know that's where he'd retreat when he needed space, but tonight she couldn't bear the distance. Tonight, she needed him to hear her out, even if he didn't want to.
When she pushed open the door, she found him seated in his usual armchair, his gaze distant, staring out the window as though looking for answers in the dark night beyond.
"My love," she ventured softly, almost hesitantly.
His eyes flickered toward her, his face an unreadable mask. "What is it that you want, Pansy?"
The clipped tone and the use of her first name sent a jolt through her. She took a step closer, trying to gather her thoughts. "To apologize," she said, voice wavering slightly. "To tell you I'm sorry for keeping things from you."
His expression hardened, a flash of pain crossing his features. "For breaking my heart? Over and over again?"
She winced. She'd been bracing herself for his anger, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel infinitely more real. "Nevie, please… don't do this. I know I fucked up, but I'm here, and I'm apologizing. Sincerely."
For a long moment, he just looked at her, his eyes searching her face, as if he were assessing the truth in her words. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders dropping a fraction. "Come here, Parkinson."
Parkinson. The surname hit her like a slap. She knew it was his way of keeping her at arm's length, a cold reminder of how deeply he'd been hurt. But she wouldn't back down, not this time.
Summoning a boldness she didn't fully feel, she crossed the room and stood in front of him. After a pause, she slipped onto his lap, settling herself gingerly. She expected him to push her away, to tell her to leave him alone, but he didn't. Instead, he looked at her, his gaze softer but still shadowed by the pain she had caused.
"Look at me," he said quietly, his tone edged with frustration and sadness.
She met his eyes, feeling as though he could see straight through her, into every corner of her soul, exposing the fear she'd tried so hard to hide.
"Why are you doing this to me, Pansy?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What are you so afraid of?"
She swallowed, her throat dry. "I'm scared… scared that you're going to leave me," she admitted, her voice breaking. The vulnerability of the confession hung in the air between them, raw and exposed.
His expression softened, though the hurt was still there, lingering like a shadow. "And you think keeping secrets from me, shutting me out… that's supposed to help?"
She shook her head, feeling the weight of her mistakes settle heavily on her shoulders. "No, it doesn't. I know that now. It's just… habit. My life has always been about control, about not letting anyone see the weak parts of me. But you… you see them anyway."
Her gaze fell, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt as she struggled to find the words. "And that terrifies me, Nevie. Because if you really see me, all the ugly parts, all the things I've hidden… I don't know if you'll still want me."
Her lips brushed over his neck, each soft kiss laced with an apology, a promise, a plea. She traced gentle, wet trails across his skin, her breaths light but unsteady, trying to reach him through touch where her words had failed. She felt him tense beneath her, his silence heavy and unyielding. Finally, he pulled back, his expression unreadable.
"Get on your knees," he murmured, his voice low, controlled, but with a familiar warmth. His command was as much a test as it was an invitation to rebuild the trust between them, on his terms.
She slid off his lap without hesitation, her eyes never leaving his, both a show of submission and of unwavering trust in him. She felt his hand in her hair, gentle yet firm, grounding her.
"I'm going to make you work for this apology, my love," he whispered, his tone both tender and unyielding. "For the next few minutes, you're letting go. You're letting me take control."
"Yes," she breathed, her voice a quiet but willing surrender. "Please."
She parted her lips, anticipation in her gaze as she looked up at him. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin before he slid himself fully into her mouth, making her eyes water at the intensity.
"This," he murmured, his voice low and firm, "is for keeping secrets from me." His movements were unrelenting, each thrust deliberate, his eyes locked on hers as he maintained control, ensuring she felt every moment.
"Look at me," he commanded, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as she obeyed. "Let me see that you're sorry."
The intensity built as he held her attention, pushing deeper with a primal determination, until he finally spilled himself down her throat. He exhaled, his hand lingering in her hair as he pulled back, watching her catch her breath.
With a slight smile, he buttoned his trousers, then extended his hand to help her rise.
"What do good girls say?" he prompted, his tone softening as he watched her.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice soft and sincere. "Thank you, Sir."
A slow, approving smile played at his lips as he pulled her close, a silent promise lingering in his gaze that he was far from finished with her
He looked at her intently, a mixture of frustration and hurt flickering in his eyes. The weight of her previous secrecy hung heavy in the air, an unspoken barrier that had grown between them over the past year. Pansy shifted slightly on his lap, her heart racing as she faced him.
"Good girl, now apologize," he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for defiance. She could feel the authority in his voice, a reminder of the trust they shared, even amid the turmoil. Taking a deep breath, she sat back on his lap, her gaze unwavering.
"I would like to sincerely apologize," she began, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability. "I wasn't fully transparent with you, and I realize now how much that must have hurt you." She could see the way his jaw tightened slightly, an indication that the wounds from her secrets were still fresh.
"I knew it before it happened," she continued, her gaze softening as she recalled the past. "I knew before the brunch where Lavender was there, before all the chaos erupted. The plan was in place for months, and I should have told you."
His expression darkened, the hurt flashing in his eyes like a storm brewing on the horizon. "So you kept it from me for a year now?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, yet each word carried the weight of betrayal.
"I did, yes," she admitted, her heart pounding as she braced for his reaction. She watched as he processed her words, his brows furrowing as the realization of her deception sank in. "I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. I didn't want to add to your burdens, especially with everything that was happening at that time."
He shook his head, disbelief mingling with disappointment. "But you didn't trust me enough to share it. You thought you could carry this alone without involving me."
"I was scared," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "Scared of what you might think of me, scared of how it could change everything between us. I thought I could handle it on my own."
"Handle it?" he echoed incredulously, his gaze piercing into hers. "This wasn't just about you, Pansy. This was about us. We're supposed to face things together. I needed to know, especially when it directly affected both of us."
"I know," she replied, her voice breaking. "I realize that now. I should have had more faith in you, in us. I should have trusted you to support me. I'm so sorry for putting you through this."
He took a deep breath, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface, but she could see the vulnerability in his eyes as well. "Apologies are just words unless you mean them. How can I trust you moving forward?"
She shifted closer, her heart aching at the hurt she had caused him. "I promise to be honest from now on, no matter how difficult it may be. I want to build our future on trust, not on secrets. You deserve that."
Her sincerity seemed to penetrate the walls he had built around himself, and for a moment, the tension began to dissolve. His expression softened, though the hurt still lingered. "I want to believe you, Pansy. But this isn't something that will just vanish overnight. It's going to take time to rebuild what was lost."
"I understand," she replied, feeling tears prick at her eyes. "I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Just tell me what you need from me. I want to show you that I can be the partner you deserve."
He reached up, his fingers brushing away a stray tear from her cheek, his touch gentle yet firm. "I need you to be open with me, to share everything—especially when it's difficult. We can't go through life dancing around the truth. It only breeds more pain."
She nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. "You're right. I want us to be stronger, to communicate openly and honestly, no matter how hard it is."
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, his warmth enveloping her as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm willing to try, but you have to meet me halfway."
"I will," she promised, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I love you, Neville. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to protect you, but I see now how foolish that was."
He sighed, his breath shaky as he held her tightly. "Let's take it one step at a time. Just remember that you're not alone in this. We'll face everything together from now on."
She whispered, too afraid to say it out loud, "I'm scared... that someday, you might stop loving me."
He kissed her deeply, letting his touch speak before his words. Pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, he whispered, "You will never be unloved by me. You are too well tangled in my soul."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She stood in front of the window, watching the evening light fade over the grounds of Parkinson Manor. Shadows lengthened across the gardens, their slow creep a reminder of how much time she had spent wrapped in secrecy and half-truths. And now, as she let herself breathe in the cool twilight air, she felt a weight settle on her chest—one she was determined to release once and for all.
She made a decision, more concrete than any resolution she'd ever considered. Her life needed to change. She had spent too long weaving intricate webs of secrets, too long testing his patience, balancing on the razor's edge of trust and deceit. It had become a part of her, a habit so deeply ingrained she hadn't even realized its full extent until she saw the look in his eyes earlier, when he confronted her.
The hurt, the betrayal, the weight of every hidden truth sat between them, a silent force she could no longer ignore.
She would never lie to him again.
Finally that was the truth.
She repeated the vow to herself, like a prayer, feeling its promise settle into her bones. She would tell him everything, no matter how painful. It was the only way forward, the only way to keep the love they'd built from crumbling under the weight of secrets. She closed her eyes, imagining his face—his warm smile, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her. That face deserved honesty, loyalty, and respect. She would no longer taint it with deceit.
Her past was a twisted maze of dark corners and shadows, choices made for survival, alliances forged out of necessity, and secrets that felt as vital as the air she breathed. But her past didn't have to be her future. Not anymore. She would find a way to free herself from its chains, to become a woman deserving of his love and trust. For too long, she had let herself believe that a heart like his would forgive anything—that he would always understand her reasons and her fears. But he was not invincible, and she knew now that his patience had limits.
The resolve built inside her, layer by layer, until it felt like steel in her chest.
She would sit down with him, lay every truth bare, and face the consequences. It would be painful, and she knew it might take time for him to trust her again, but she was prepared to work for it, to rebuild from the ground up if that's what it took. She wanted a life untainted by lies—a life of real love, trust, and transparency.
Stepping away from the window, she took a deep breath, gathering her courage, feeling it rise like a tide. She wouldn't just change for him, but for herself, for the woman she wanted to become, for the future she wanted to embrace—one where love and honesty were her true foundations.
The journey would be difficult, but she was ready for it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She waited in the dimly lit hallway, hearing the familiar creak of the front door as it opened. Neville stepped inside, his face softening as he spotted her waiting for him. After a long day, he was visibly tired, but he managed a warm smile, walking over and gently taking her hand.
"Parky," he murmured, brushing his lips against her knuckles. She could feel her heart pound in response—there was something so steady and reassuring about him, something she had leaned on without realizing how deeply she needed it. And tonight, she was ready to open up to him in a way she never had before.
"Nevie," she began, her voice a little unsteady. She took a breath, gathering her thoughts and her courage. "I... I've been thinking a lot lately. I know we've talked about this. I want to have a baby. And... I want to start now."
He looked at her carefully, a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. They had discussed children before, always in abstract terms, like something for a distant future. But the look in her eyes told him this wasn't just a casual conversation—it was something she'd been thinking about, perhaps even agonizing over.
"We already talked about this, Parky," he replied gently, his hand finding its way to her cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. "We'll have a baby, in time. But there's something we need to work on first."
Her brows furrowed, a pang of worry pricking her heart. "What do you mean?" she asked, searching his face.
He paused, choosing his words with care, his expression sincere but unwavering. "Our dynamic needs to change, my love. I need you to be completely honest with me—no more secrets, no half-truths. You have to trust me enough to share everything, even the things you think I won't understand or the things you worry will hurt me. Especially those things."
Her breath caught as she processed his words, feeling a mix of vulnerability and resolve. She'd been carrying so much, hiding behind the fear of disappointing him, of losing his respect. But he was right—if they were to build a future together, one that included a child, they couldn't do it on a foundation of hidden fears and buried truths.
"I promise, Nevie. I do," she said, her voice almost a whisper, but the promise in her words unmistakable. "I want this as much as you do—our future, our family. I'll be open, I'll be honest. Even if it's hard."
He nodded, his gaze filled with understanding, his arms drawing her close. She melted against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the security of his presence.
They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other, allowing the weight of the conversation to settle, each aware of the changes to come. The road ahead wouldn't be easy—she knew there would be times she'd struggle to keep her promise, to resist her instinct to hide or evade. But she was ready to try, with him by her side, willing to build a love stronger than anything she'd ever known.
"I'll hold you to that promise," he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Because if we're going to bring a child into this world, I want them to grow up in a home built on trust. And I want them to have parents who can show them what real love and honesty look like."
She nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. She knew she was ready, not only to have a child but to be the kind of partner Neville deserved. And in that moment, she felt a sense of purpose stronger than any she had ever known, a determination to be better—for him, for herself, and for the life they would one day create together.