The moment his father's presence vanished from the hall, the tension in his shoulders finally loosened. Not all at once — just enough for his breath to tremble. Diana noticed it immediately.
"Come," he said, voice quieter now. "Let's get you changed."
But as they entered their private sitting room, he didn't move toward the wardrobe or the towels. Instead, he stopped in the middle of the room, back turned to her.
His shoulders rose and fell slowly.
She hesitated. "Are… you alright?"
He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"I shouldn't have lost control in front of him," he muttered. "I shouldn't have raised my voice. I shouldn't—"
"You protected me," she said.
"That's the problem."
He turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see the tightness around his eyes.
"I'm supposed to be strong. Unshakeable. But when it's you…"
He swallowed.
"I become… softer. Too soft."
A silence settled between them before she walked up to him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm.
"Is that bad?" she asked gently.
He didn't answer.
Not until she reached out and touched his forearm — warm, tense, trembling just a little.
He froze.
"You're allowed to be soft," she said. "You're allowed to care."
His throat tightened as he looked at her, and for the first time she saw something beneath all the strength — something small and quiet, hidden behind years of duty and control.
Fear.
"I don't want to lose you," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "Or the baby. And today… when they talked about you like that, when they kept pushing and pushing…"
His jaw clenched. "I realized I'd rather turn against all of them than risk either of you."
She stepped closer, gently placing her hand on his chest. His heart beat strong, but a little too fast.
"You don't always have to pretend," she whispered.
His eyes softened — melting, almost boyish for a moment.
"You think I'm pretending?"
She offered a tiny smile. "I think you're trying very hard not to let me see the soft parts."
He stared at her, stunned.
And then, unbelievably, the corner of his mouth lifted — a shy, brief, completely unexpected smile.
"You think I'm soft?" he murmured, leaning slightly toward her.
"I think," she said, steady, "you can be. And that it's… cute."
He blinked.
A powerful panther-beast, heir of a legendary family…
And someone had just called him cute.
He looked away immediately, ears turning faintly pink.
"Don't say things like that," he muttered.
"Why?" she teased softly.
"Because," he said, clearing his throat, "I don't know how to respond."
She laughed — quietly, sweetly — and for the first time since he stormed out of the dining hall, his chest felt lighter.
He finally placed a hand over hers, fingers curling around her small palm.
"You make everything complicated," he said.
"And you make everything dramatic," she replied.
Another silence.
But now it was warm.
Safe.
He leaned his forehead gently against hers, closing his eyes.
"You and the baby," he whispered, "are the only things I want to protect. Even if it makes me soft."
She smiled against him.
"I like soft."
His breath hitched, and his hand moved to hold the back of her head, tender, careful.
"I'll try," he whispered.
"For you."
The villa was quiet that evening, the storm outside fading into a calm drizzle that tapped gently against the windows. She walked slowly through the hallway, her steps soft, carrying a blanket over her shoulders. She expected to find him in the office, working or pretending to work, but instead…
She found him sitting alone on the balcony.
His elbows rested on his knees, fingers steepled together, head lowered. His dark hair fell over his eyes, hiding the emotions he would never show in daylight. The night breeze tugged gently at his clothes, and for a moment, he looked nothing like the feared heir of a powerful beastman family.
He looked tired.
And lonely.
She stepped closer, carefully. "You're out here… in the cold?"
He didn't lift his head immediately. When he did, his voice was rougher than usual.
"Just needed air."
She could hear it — the exhaustion he tried to bury. The pressure his father placed on him. The constant fear for her safety. The weight of protecting her, their child, and going against his entire family's tradition.
She walked to his side and slowly lowered herself onto the bench beside him. He stiffened — he always did when someone got close — but tonight he didn't move away.
"Are you… alright?" she asked gently.
He let out a quiet exhale, almost a bitter laugh.
"You should not worry about me."
"But I do," she said softly, surprising even herself.
His head turned, eyes widening slightly. No one worried for him. Not genuinely. Not without wanting something in return.
"You're too soft," he murmured, but the words lacked the usual edge. "…Too kind."
She shook her head. "Or maybe you're softer than you pretend to be."
That made him freeze.
Even the wind seemed to still for a moment.
He looked away sharply, jaw clenching — embarrassed, vulnerable, unsure how to handle being seen so clearly.
"Don't say things like that," he muttered. "People… expect me to be something else. Something hard. Unbreakable."
"But you don't have to be that with me."
His breath caught.
Slowly — cautiously — she reached out and touched his arm. His muscles tightened beneath her fingers, then gradually relaxed. He turned his head, his dark eyes reflecting something she had never seen in him:
Not dominance.
Not fury.
Not control.
But a quiet ache.
A longing he hid from everyone.
"I'm supposed to protect you," he whispered. "But sometimes I think… I want you to protect me too."
Her chest tightened with warmth. She leaned her head lightly on his shoulder, and after a moment of hesitation, he allowed it — even leaned slightly toward her.
He closed his eyes.
She felt the slow rise and fall of his breath, the steady thump of his heart under her cheek.
"You're not alone," she whispered.
He swallowed hard, his voice almost breaking as he answered,
"…Thank you."
And under the soft glow of the moon, with the storm fading far away, she realized something she never expected:
The feared panther…
was also the gentlest creature she had ever known.