Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 59

ེ 。 ཅ ཆ ཇ ༤

BIANCA

But the heart, I was learning, didn’t care about logic or timing or caution.

It wanted what it wanted.

And right now, it wanted the man down the hall who looked at me like I was precious rather than convenient. Who’d saved my life without demanding anything in return. Who’d opened his home and his heart and trusted me with his son’s well–being.

Who made me feel safe in a way I’d never felt with Matthew.

I was considering the wisdom–or lack thereof–of getting up to raid the kitchen for stress–eating supplies when I heard a soft knock at my door.

“Bianca?” Rivera’s voice, quiet and careful. “Are you awake?”

My heart rate kicked up immediately. “Yeah. Come in.”

The door opened, and he stepped inside, backlit by the hallway light. He was wearing pajama pants and a t–shirt, his hair slightly mussed like he’d been trying to sleep and failing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked unnecessarily.

“Not really.” He moved further into the room, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that I could see his expression in the dim light filtering through my curtains. “Kept thinking about today. About the exam approval. About Louis’s multiplication

homework.”

“Louis’s homework kept you awake?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No.” His lips quirked in a small smile. “Louis asking me later why I didn’t just marry you already so we could be a proper family kept me awake.”

Oh God. Heat flooded my face. “He said that to you?”

“In slightly less diplomatic terms, yes.” Rivera moved to sit on the edge of my bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “He pointed out, with distressing logic, that I’m clearly interested in you, you seem to like me back, and waiting is ‘just wasting time when we could be having fun as a real family.“”

“He’s very… direct,” I managed.

“He gets it from me, unfortunately.” Rivera’s gaze held mine. “But he’s not wrong, is he? About me being interested. About you maybe feeling the same?”

My breath caught. We were really doing this. Having this conversation. At nearly midnight in my bedroom with the vulnerability that came from darkness and honesty.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I admitted. “It’s complicated, Lucian. It’s only been a month since-

“Since your husband tried to kill you and you had to fake your death to escape,” he finished bluntly. “I know. Believe me, I know this is terrible timing. That you need space to heal, to figure out who you are without someone else defining you.”

“But?” I prompted, sensing there was more.

“But I also know that life doesn’t wait for perfect timing. That sometimes the right person shows up at exactly the wrong moment, and you have to decide if you’re brave enough to take the risk anyway.” He leaned closer, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “I’m not Matthew, Bianca. I’m not going to demand you sacrifice yourself for me or mold you into someone you’re not or treat you like an obligation instead of a choice.”

gratitude? Or proximity? Or-”

“Time,” he said simply. “You’ll know with time. But Bianca, I’m not asking you to marry me or make life–altering decisions tonight. I’m just asking if you’re willing to consider the possibility. If you’re open to seeing where this goes.”

I looked at him–really looked at him—and saw nothing but sincerity in his expression. No manipulation, no hidden agendas, no expectations beyond what I was willing to give.

“I’m scared,” I confessed. “Of getting hurt again. Of trusting someone and being wrong. Of—”

“I know.” His hand found mine in the darkness, his fingers warm and steady. “But Bianca, you can’t live your whole life protecting yourself from potential pain. At some point, you have to be brave enough to try again.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

“Then we wait. I’m patient.” His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, the touch casual but intimate. “Louis and I aren’t going anywhere. This isn’t conditional on you deciding right now or even deciding at all. You have a home here for as long as you want it, relationship or no relationship.”

The sincerity in his words made my throat tight. “You really mean that.”

“I really do.” He squeezed my hand gently. “Now, try to get some sleep. You have studying to do for that exam, and Louis has already started planning your celebration dinner outfit with alarming specificity.”

He stood to leave, and without thinking, I tightened my grip on his hand.

“Lucian?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m open to the possibility,” I whispered. “I can’t promise anything more than that right now, but… I’m open to seeing where this goes.”

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