Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 280

Chapter 280: Knowledge of death

Belle’s health and recovery improved with each passing day until she began to feel like her old self_before she got pregnant and carried the heavy weight of her son in her womb. She felt lighter now, and the roundness in her stomach, which she had believed would never go away, had flattened, returning her natural figure and gifting her with even more mature, sharpened curves, curves that a certain someone admired at every opportunity.

But with her recovery came other subtle, unsettling problems that troubled her deeply. Apart from the fact that ever since Rohan had told her they would be leaving the cottage and returning to Nightbrook, to their reality, she had been consumed with worry every second of the day, even though she tried not to show it, there were also strange things happening to her, and to the cottage, that she couldn’t ignore.

Ever since she had been pregnant with Angel, she hadn’t experienced anything bizarre, except that one nightmare in Bimmerville about the graveyard. But now, lately, whenever she moved through the cottage and her fingers grazed the surfaces, be it the walls or the floors, memories that did not belong to her began to flood her mind. Memories of people who had lived in the house before them.

She saw a happy couple. Married, deeply in love, and content with life, despite having very little. She saw a young woman laughing freely with her husband, their life together simple and peaceful, until death tore it apart by taking the man. Then sorrow settled into the once joyful home.

Belle saw his death. She witnessed it as if she were truly there, watching as the reaper came to take his soul from his thin, sick body lying helplessly in bed. He had died of illness. And Belle hadn’t even realized she was crying while witnessing the heartbreaking memory in her mind’s eye, until a small, chubby hand gently touched her damp cheek.

Angel.

She looked down to find her son in her arms, his large, dark eyes fixed on her face with a frown and a little tilt of his head, as if questioning what was making her sad. His soft fingers moved along her cheeks again, and he made a quiet baby sound, his frown deepening at the sight of her tears.

She had one arm securely wrapped around him, holding him close, while her other hand was still brushing along the surface of the chamber wall, searching for memories. It had become a habit of hers ever since she had discovered she could see them by touching the walls.

Walls carry memories.

She recovered from the pain that the walls held and had transferred into her soul just to assure her little Angel Max. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Angel’s growth was happening too fast, too fast for her to keep up with, and certainly too fast for her peace of mind. He was only two months old, yet he looked like an eight-month-old human baby.

He was the most adorable, handsome baby she had ever seen, and his intelligence was far beyond what should be possible for a child his age. His rapid growth worried her deeply, because she feared she might not get the chance to fully pamper and enjoy him in the tender state of his infancy before he outgrew it.

Rohan had assured her that once Angel reached a certain developmental stage, his growth would slow down and remain steady for a long while, and that she shouldn’t be surprised or anxious about how quickly things were progressing now.

"Max is not going to outgrow your affections," Rohan had said gently, as he liked to call the baby "Max"—and only "Angel" when the boy was being especially good.

Angel could already tell when she was sad or happy. He could sense when something wasn’t right between his parents and they were worried. He could crawl now and move around on the floor with impressive confidence. He had a way of expressing what he wanted without words, using small actions and gestures that made his intentions clear.

After seeing how emotional she had become from simply touching the surface of the wall, the boy glanced at that same wall with darkened eyes, then looked back at his mother, his gaze softening, the unspoken question still shimmering in his large, black orbs.

With quivering lips and tears welling in her eyes, Belle reached out and wrapped her fingers around his chubby wrist, then brought his little hand to her lips and kissed his palm.

"The walls didn’t hurt me, Angel," she whispered to him softly. "I could read the pain they hold. I could see the memories of death. It’s heavy in this cottage. Someone loved here... and someone died. That’s what makes me emotional. I can’t imagine being the woman who lost her husband."

Angel watched her as if he understood every word.

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