Alpha's Regret After Her Rebirth by Aurora Starling

Chapter 0293

I gasped, grabbing a pillow and chucking it straight at him. “Noah!” The pillow hit him square in the face, and for a moment, I saw a flash of the boy I used to know–an uncharacteristic smirk, a huff of laughter, and reddened cheeks

Dammit, I had to bite back the urge to laugh, too. I was supposed to be mad at him, but seeing that playful side of him, even for a moment, stirred something in me that I thought was long dead. I had to bite the inside of my cheek just to keep myself from smiling.

Finally, giving up on trying to push him away, I sighed. “Fine. Let’s play Crazy 8s.”

As we played, the tension in the room slowly eased–even if only slightly, because I was too distracted to notice my anger,

Suddenly, Noah said, “So, I’ve been thinking about which room we could use for the nursery.”

I froze, the card in my hand hovering midair. I hadn’t really thought about it yet, as I had intended to be divorced and living in my ancestral home in Silvermoon by the time the baby was born. The idea of a nursery in this house, of raising a child with Noah… I still didn’t intend on it.

But Noah continued, either oblivious to my thoughts or choosing to ignore them.

of the house would be good,” he said as he placed a card on the pile. “It’ll help the baby develop a natural circadian rhythm with the rising sun. And imagine how lovely it would look in the morning, the sun streaming through some nice sheer curtains. Maybe bright yellow walls? Something

he put so much thought into this? It was hard to reconcile this Noah, who was thinking about

man who had locked me

he asked,

hard, trying to maintain my cold demeanor despite the urge to smile. “I hate yellow,” I said flatly

the deck, seemingly unfazed by my negativity.” Well, we can try countless other colors

actually considering the options, imagining a room bathed in soft morning light, a crib by the

I told myself. My baby won’t live here.

before the birth. I’d make sure of it.

soft shuffle of cards and the occasional clinking of ice in our glasses. Finally,

to myself, but it wasn’t