Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 284

Chapter 284: Leaving The Cottage_Part 1

Belle did not wake until late afternoon, and even then, it was Angel’s loud, deafening cries that startled her from a dreamless sleep.

She opened her eyes to a room washed in warm sunlight, the golden beams streaming through the window and casting a pinkish hue over everything thanks to the sheer pink curtains swaying gently with the spring breeze. Not hearing the cry again, Belle wondered if she had imagined it and remained still, lying quietly in bed.

She didn’t attempt to rise, just turned her head to the other side of the bed. She was alone, Rohan’s side was empty. But the creased sheets and the sunken pillow were signs of his recent presence. The memory of what they had done the night before came rushing back, warm and vivid.

Though she was no longer shy about intimacy, her cheeks still flushed at the thought of it. Her body, with its soft aches and tender reminders, confirmed how wild they had been. It had been wonderful, being in his arms, feeling him in that way. The very memory of it caused a gentle heat to rise from deep within her.

From the empty cradle, she figured Rohan had taken Angel. Sometimes, he would wake up early and make breakfast with their baby nearby, watching him from the rug where he usually played and crawled.

She was about to convince herself that she had only imagined her son’s earlier cries and was considering drifting back to sleep when his loud, piercing wail echoed through the small house again, this time so forceful it shook the walls, sending a soft cloud of dust down from the ceiling.

It wasn’t a normal cry.

It was as though he was in pain, or something awful had happened to him.

Belle instantly sat up, the sheet slipping and wrapping itself around her bare body. She didn’t care about the aches or the lingering soreness. All she could think about was her son, his voice, that wail. Something was wrong.

She ran, barefoot and breathless, down the narrow stairs and into the living area, stopping abruptly when her eyes took in the scene before her.

Rohan and Angel were both seated on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a scattered mess of toys.

Instantly, Belle understood what had happened.

Rohan was trying to pack the makeshift toys he had crafted for their son into a brown, open box. But Angel kept pulling them out again and returning them to the floor, his familiar play space. Each time Rohan placed a toy back into the box after Angel had retrieved it, the baby would tilt his head back and cry to the heavens, fat tears streaming down his little cheeks.

Belle couldn’t move. She stood frozen as the realization settled in, Rohan was packing. Preparing for their leaving. The sight hit her like a blow to the chest.

And their son, sensing something wasn’t right, was protesting the only way he could, stopping his father from packing his toys.

She had completely forgotten about their leaving for a moment. She had woken up like every other morning, admiring her surroundings, forgetting that today was the day it would all end. A lump, so large, stuck in her throat, depriving her of the will to swallow.

Meanwhile, Rohan, who had now repeated the same actions of packing the toys countless times, finally gave up and moved from the floor to a crouched position, staring at his crying son in resignation and utter helplessness.

The boy’s cries were tenfold louder than that of a normal baby, so much that Rohan had stuffed cotton into his ears to block out the sound.

"How many times are we going to go through this, son?" Rohan said, massaging his aching temple. He had tried, as best as possible, to explain to the boy that the toys needed to be in the box because they were going on a journey.

Angel stopped crying just enough to look up at Rohan and shook his head. As young as he was, he seemed to understand that his father wanted to take him, and his toys, away from here, and he didn’t want to comply. To him, this was home, and everything should stay the way it was, not be packed and taken away like his father was doing.

Seeing that Rohan had resumed packing the toys again, Angel threw his head back and cried until Rohan could literally see his throat and tongue quivering. His round cheeks were flushed, and fat tears streamed down his long lashes.

Stunned speechless and rendered helpless by his son’s dramatic cries, Rohan massaged his temple for the tenth time and looked at the small being that was his blood, but by hell, he had never been like this as a child. Did he ever even cry?

"Max, you can’t always get your way by crying. You’re smarter than that. If you don’t let me pack the toys, we might as well leave them behind and get you new ones once we get home. Is that what you want? To part with your toys?" Rohan asked his son in a calm voice.

The boy’s cries subsided. He looked at his father with accusing, tear-filled dark eyes and pouted lips.

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