Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 262

ASHER

For a long time, there was only silence between us. I could feel her watching me. I could feel her presence behind my back like a weight I couldn’t escape, but she didn’t move or speak. The quiet stretched, almost unbearable, until finally, she broke it.

Her voice was quiet, so quiet I could have almost missed it.

“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to,” she said.

I dragged my hands down my face and looked at her. “I know,” I murmured, my voice rough. “I’m honored.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “Then, if you know, why are you still here? Why don’t you just leave? I know you don’t want to be here.”

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. Because the truth felt too heavy to speak aloud. Because leaving felt worse than staying.

“Because the truth seems too much and too hard,” I admitted finally. “Because walking away feels even worse than sitting here. It’s better to be close to you and burning… than far away from you. Because that should feel worse than the fire.”

Her expression softened, but she didn’t say anything more. I knew she wanted to. I could feel it in the air between us, heavy with words unspoken. Silence settled between us again.

I leaned back, letting my hands fall into my lap, my voice breaking just slightly as I spoke.

“I don’t know if you can ever find it in yourself to forgive me,” I said. “But I just hope that one day I will be worthy enough of that forgiveness.”

“Asher....”

Her voice pulled my head around. I turned toward her, finding her watching me carefully. She shifted a little on the bed, her movements slow, uncertain, then patted the space beside her. It wasn’t an invitation filled with warmth, more a quiet offering, a test. It was as if she wasn’t sure she wanted me close, but some part of her still needed to see if I would take that step.

I stared at the space she had made for me. For a moment, I didn’t move..Then I stood, my body and crossed the room slowly. I sat down where she had gestured, careful to keep just enough distance between us that she wouldn’t feel trapped but close enough that I could feel her presence.

Neither of us spoke right away. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly, but it was full, filled. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

“I’m sorry.”

It startled me. My head turned toward her. “You’re sorry?” I asked, my voice thick. “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about.”

She shook her head slightly, her eyes fixed somewhere far beyond me.

“No,” she whispered, “I should have told you.... You don’t know how many times I’ve regretted that decision. Maybe… maybe if I had told you I was pregnant before I ran away, it wouldn’t have changed anything. But maybe it would have.

“Or maybe I should have told you about the contract, told you that your dad didn’t just come home to finalize the agreement for you and me to get married, that there were so many things involved in it. You should have known. You deserved to know.”

Her words trailed off, her gaze distant, her expression caught somewhere between pain and memory. I reached out without thinking, my hand resting gently on her arm through the blanket.

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