Page 50 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Fifty

That word

The rest of January passed in a blur. Kai had been home the whole time—present, attentive, and carefully distant. Now it was February, and Lyric was seven months pregnant.

She woke to the familiar weight of Kai’s arm around her, his hand resting on her belly like he was anchoring her to him. Morning light filtered through the drapes in soft gold streaks, catching the edge of his jaw and the faint flutter of his lashes.

For a moment, everything felt still. Almost safe.

His voice broke the silence, thick with sleep. “We still haven’t picked a name.”

She turned toward him, stretching lazily. “I know.”

He shifted to face her more fully, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “So, what are you thinking?”

She hesitated. “I… like Noah.”

He blinked, repeating it aloud as if tasting it. “Noah.”

It felt fragile the way he said it. Like glass in a man’s mouth.

“It’s soft,” he added carefully. “Don’t you think?”

She felt her spine tighten just slightly. “It’s gentle. Strong in its own way.”

Kai sat up a little more, the sheets rustling around him. “I’ve actually been thinking of something more… grounded. Classic. Something with weight. ”

She already knew what was coming. The chill ran through her like instinct.

“Edwin,” he said.

Her chest ached, but she forced her face to stay calm.

“It’s a family name,” Kai continued. “My mother thought it would suit him—said it’s strong. Noble. Her first name is Editha—Editha Thornwick. She says a strong name builds a strong legacy. And she would know.”

“Or Edmund,” he added casually. “She said that would be fitting too.”

There it was.

That word—legacy

The name tasted like dust in her mouth.

She pulled the sheet higher over her chest and turned onto her side, hiding her face.

“That’s a lot of tradition for a baby,” she said softly, hoping it would land as gentle deflection.

Kai didn’t laugh. “It’s not just tradition. It’s legacy .”

She almost spoke. Her lips parted.

This isn’t your mother’s child.

But she looked at him—so assured, so certain—and swallowed the words.

He smiled then, like it was decided. “Edwin Thornwick. You can picture it, right? It sounds like someone destined for something great.”

She nodded, barely.

“Sure,” she murmured. “It’s a strong name.”

He leaned over, kissed her temple. “Then it’s settled.”

When he rose from bed and disappeared into the bathroom, Lyric stayed where she was—cold under warm sheets.

Edwin.

Editha.

The names clung to each other like ivy around a crypt.

She slid her hand to her belly, tracing soft, slow circles. Her fingers trembled.

She glanced at the bathroom door to make sure it was closed .

Then she bent closer to her stomach, her voice barely more than breath.

“You’re not an Edwin, are you?”

Silence answered her. But it was soft. Knowing.

She smiled, just slightly. “Your name is Noah.”