Chapter Ten: Little Footsteps

Skyla's pov

The sound of laughter pulls me from sleep. Soft, sweet, and full of life nothing like the cold silence that wrapped around me last night. For a moment, I forget where I am. The silk sheets beneath my fingertips, the faint scent of salt drifting through the open balcony doors ,it all feels too foreign.

And then it hits me.

I’m married. To a man who barely looks at me. In a house that doesn’t feel like mine.

The ache I buried last night pushes to the surface, but the sound of another giggle breaks through it. I slip out of bed, wrapping a robe around myself as I follow the noise.

The hallway is quiet, sunlight spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks along the polished wood. The house feels too big, too still, like it was never meant to hold real warmth. But as I draw closer to the grand staircase, the soft sound of tiny footsteps fills the air.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alejandro stands with Ana, his small face lit with joy as he spins in a slow circle, his arms stretched out like an airplane. His dark curls bounce with every move, and a peal of laughter spills from his lips.

He’s beautiful. And so heartbreakingly innocent.

Ana spots me first, her face softening into a smile. “Good morning, Señora Ignacio.”

Alejandro stops mid-spin, his wide brown eyes locking onto mine. For a second, I worry he won’t remember me, that I’ll be another stranger in this cold house but his face lights up with recognition.

“It’s you!” His voice is bright as he rushes toward me.

I barely have time to kneel before he throws himself into my arms, wrapping his little hands around my neck. The warmth of his hug is so unexpected, so real, it steals the air from my lungs.

“You came back,” he says, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

I swallow the sudden knot in my throat. “I told you I would.”

He pulls back, his face glowing with happiness. “Does this mean you live here now?”

I hesitate, unsure how much he knows how much I’m allowed to say. But the hope in his eyes makes it impossible to lie. “Yes,” I answer softly. “I live here now.”

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Good! ’Cause I missed you.”

I blink back the sudden sting behind my eyes. It shouldn’t be this easy connecting with him. But it is.

Ana watches us with quiet warmth. “Alejandro was just helping me set the breakfast table,” she says gently. “Would you like to join us?”

Before I can answer, Alejandro grabs my hand, tugging me toward the dining room. “Come on! I’ll show you where to sit.”

The room is flooded with light from the arched windows overlooking the garden. A long mahogany table stretches across the center, laid with fresh fruit, pastries, and pitchers of juice. It’s the kind of breakfast spread you’d see in a magazine perfect, polished, too much for three people.

Alejandro climbs into the chair beside me, his feet swinging as he reaches for a piece of toast. “Do you like strawberries?” he asks, his voice earnest.

“I love them,” I say, smiling.

“Good. ’Cause Ana cuts them the best.” He leans closer, like he’s sharing a secret. “Better than Papa.”

The mention of Alonso sends a shiver down my spine. It’s easy to forget him when it’s just me and Alejandro ,when there’s warmth in the air instead of tension.

“Does your papa eat breakfast with you?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

Alejandro shrugs, stuffing a strawberry slice into his mouth. “Sometimes. But not today. He had work.” His face brightens again. “But it’s okay ’cause now you’re here!”

Something heavy tugs in my chest. He doesn’t sound sad when he says it just accepting, like he’s used to Alonso’s absence.

“I’m here,” I promise softly, brushing a curl from his forehead.

His little hand curls over mine, holding on like he doesn’t want me to let go. And for the first time since this marriage began, I feel something other than emptiness.

I feel needed.

Alonso's pov

I pause just outside the dining room, unseen, watching as Skyla laughs softly at something Alejandro says. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders in soft waves, her face glowing in the morning light. There’s a softness to her something warm and real that doesn’t belong in this cold house.

And Alejandro… he’s smiling in a way I haven’t seen in a long time.

A flicker of something unfamiliar stirs in my chest something too close to guilt. I told myself this marriage was a necessity, a calculated move to secure his future. But watching them together, it feels like more.

It feels like a life I’m standing on the outside of.

“You’ll be late if you keep standing there,” a voice murmurs behind me.

I turn to find Ana watching me with her usual knowing gaze.

“He likes her,” she adds quietly. “More than I’ve seen him like anyone.”

I stiffen, pushing the feeling aside. “That was the point.”

Ana sighs, but she doesn’t press. “Your coffee is ready in your study, Señor Ignacio.”

I give a curt nod, tearing my gaze from the scene and striding away.

But even as I bury myself in work, Skyla’s laughter lingers. And for the first time in a long time, the silence in this house feels heavier than it should.

Skyla

By the time breakfast ends, Alejandro’s hand is still clasped in mine as he pulls me toward the back garden. The air is cool and crisp, the scent of sea salt clinging to the breeze.

“This is my favorite place,” he announces proudly, pointing to a small wooden playhouse tucked beneath a sprawling oak tree. “Papa built it for me.”

I glance toward the house, surprised. “He did?”

Alejandro nods, his curls bouncing. “He works a lot, but he always keeps his promises.” His little face is so earnest it makes my heart ache.

I kneel beside him, brushing a smudge of jam from his cheek. “That’s important, isn’t it?”

He nods again, quieter this time. “Are you gonna stay too?”

The question hits harder than it should. I’m supposed to be here for him to play a role, to fulfill my father’s demands and Alonso’s expectations. But when I look at Alejandro, I don’t see an obligation. I see a little boy who just wants someone to stay.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time since this began, I mean it.

But somewhere deep inside, a question lingers

What happens when the truth comes out?