"What? Don’t tell me you’re shy," a soft but weak voice drifted through the cozy hospital ward.
Veronica turned scarlet, her body burning up, cheeks red as tomatoes.
Lyra sighed at the sight. "Still acting like a little girl... He’s your husband too," she said, shaking her head gently.
"Besides, I’m not exactly in shape to help him through this... phase," she added, her voice teasing at first, but tapering off into something more fragile—tinged with sadness.
Veronica opened her mouth to speak but faltered, overwhelmed. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and swirling thoughts.
Lyra watched her with slightly glazed eyes, lips curled in a soft, bittersweet smile. Though fear and pain haunted her features, she wouldn’t let that stop Veronica—her best friend, her sister, her co-wife—from stepping up and being the woman Luiz needed now.
Finally getting herself under control, Veronica let out a hiss. "You’re too considerate for your own good."
Lyra grinned, and just like that, Veronica’s composure crumbled all over again.
At that moment, the door creaked open.
The Patriarch of the Crimsons, was now a shell of the man he once was. The former gleam of regality was gone, replaced by a haunted roughness.
Dark bags hung beneath his eyes like anchors, his frame weary, his presence burdened. It looked like sleep had abandoned him entirely.
He paused at the entrance, his gaze resting on the two women.
In his eyes swirled a storm of helplessness, shame... and unrelenting determination.
Slowly and heavily, he dragged himself into the room. Each of his steps echoed like thunder in the quiet, as if he bore the weight of a thousand worlds with every movement.
When he reached Lyra’s bedside, he stood tall for a moment.
Then, without a word, with utmost sincerity, he bent at the waist, and gave a ninety-degree bow—full of remorse.
"Luiz? What are you doing?" Lyra gasped, voice strained with both confusion and alarm.
But he didn’t respond—his head remained bowed, unmoving, like a statue carved from shame and regret.
Veronica stood quietly, her earlier fluster gone, replaced with a solemn stillness.
"Luiz, stop this," Lyra urged, her voice trembling now.
Still, he didn’t move.
Lyra turned to Veronica, eyes pleading for help, but the other woman only met her gaze with quiet understanding—and didn’t move an inch. She didn’t interfere.
Because she felt it too.
In that bow, wasn’t just apology... there was grief, pain, helplessness. A crushed pride struggling to still stand tall. A desperate attempt to make up for all the things he couldn’t fix. She knew Lyra felt it too.
And maybe that was why she was reacting this way—because the weight behind that bow didn’t just belong to Luiz. It felt... overwhelming in a way.
For a full minute that stretched like an eternity, Luiz remained bowed. When he finally straightened, his face was a mask of shame and fatigue.
He thought perhaps he should smile, offer some gesture of reassurance. But he couldn’t. The emotion just wouldn’t come. Instead, he felt weaker, heavier.
Somehow, he was relieved, as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulder. But remembering why he came, it felt like an even greater burden had taken its place.
He gathered his thoughts and looked toward his first wife, meeting her gaze—one filled with surprise and sorrow.
Though Luiz had suffered physically, emotionally, and mentally, he wasn’t sure if Kallen’s disappearance had struck him as hard as it had Lyra. Especially in her fragile state, clinging to life or perhaps already losing the fight.
Noticing his conflicted expression, Lyra tapped the bed beside her, patting it twice.
Luiz slowly sat, still unsure where to begin.
"You should rest," Veronica said softly from the opposite edge of the bed, her voice carrying quiet concern.
He clenched his fists, a sharp pang of resistance rising...
"It doesn’t make you weak," Lyra said, cutting through his thoughts like a blade of light, severing his doubt before it could take further root. Her tone left no room for argument.
"You need rest to face everything with a clearer purpose... I trust Kallen is safe," she added, smiling faintly. "I know my boy."
Luiz stared at her, stunned. How could she still hold on to so much hope? He loved his son, yes... but the bond she had with Kallen ran far deeper. And yet, here she was, smiling, calm.
As if reading his thoughts, she added, "Sometimes, we need to take a step back. Breathe. Look at things through a positive lens of hope."
From the corner of her eye, she winked at Veronica. The younger woman’s face flushed, and she quickly looked away.
Luiz was quiet for a long moment.
"...Thank you," he finally said, his voice low and ragged.
And just like that, it was as if admitting his weakness unlocked all the stress he’d bottled up behind a wall of desperate resolve. He felt lighter.
"There will be negotiations with the Valgorians... regarding Kallen’s whereabouts." He began, his tone shifting to a grim strategy.
"After inspecting the bodies from the attack, it’s clear—the entire planet of Ares is at war with the Crimson family."
He paused, glancing between the two women.
"I’m not sure we can handle this alone. For the first time, I feel... cornered from all sides. If we involve the other human clans, we risk rebellion—betrayal. But if we act without them, their greed might still drive them to sabotage us. Every path leads to the same end."
Then, for the first time in days, he smiled... faintly, but genuinely.
"Thankfully, your father is a head of the Valgorian council. He’ll Keep reading on NovelHub - where stories come alive! He seemed genuinely shocked by the attack, so I doubt he had any part in it."
He leaned back slightly, his voice tinged with doubt.
"That said, if even someone of his rank was kept in the dark, blacklisted, probably because of his connection to us—then his sway in the council may not be as strong as we hope. Even if he believes otherwise."
Lyra snorted softly, a trace of her old self surfacing. "He could be a stubborn mule sometimes."
"Yeah..." Luiz chuckled under his breath, recollecting some memories. "We’ll just have to take it one step at a time. One race after the other. The road ahead is quite steep."
His expression hardened as he looked between the two women.
"And if things don’t go well; if every path closes, then we only have one option left..."
His voice dropped to a near growl.