The late afternoon light streamed through the frosted glass window, bathing the room in a warm, golden hue. The worn, faded curtains swayed gently with the breeze that swept through the humble house. The floorboards creaked under Emily Dinsmore's bare feet as she walked slowly toward the small room at the back.
The door groaned as she pushed it open carefully.
Inside, the world seemed suspended.
The walls were painted a pale blue, almost white. The crib, though old, was clean, draped with a sheet decorated with ducklings and smiling moons. A mobile hung from the ceiling, spinning slowly in the breeze. Stuffed teddy bears rested in the corner, some more worn than others, but all arranged with care.
Emily stopped at the threshold, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes welling up.
'It's almost time.'
She took a deep breath, the cool air mingling with the scent of old wood and cheap fabric softener.
'Almost ready.'
She stepped toward the crib and ran her fingers gently along the rail. The touch was soft, reverent, as if she were caressing the face of someone not yet there.
'He'll love this room.'
A smile curved her lips.
'Not like that cold, big room… in that house. That house where he'll never know what real love is.'
She turned slowly and sat in the armchair by the window. The seat creaked, but it didn't bother her. She clutched the heart-shaped pendant around her neck, pressing it tightly against her chest.
"My baby…"
Her voice was low, trembling.
"I know you're there… I know you feel me. I know you miss me too."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Images came in waves.
Her eyes meeting Martha Kent's in the hospital. The other woman's smile. The way she rubbed her belly with such pride, such love. As if she were the perfect mother.
'But she's not. She's had everything. Time. Money. Support.'
Her eyes opened slowly, and now there was something new in them.
Something deeper.
Something broken.
'I only had you.'
She rose from the armchair and walked to a small dresser. Kneeling, she opened the drawer carefully, pulling out a neatly folded baby blanket.
The softness of the fabric brushed against her hands.
"I made this for you. By myself. Remember?"
Her voice was a whisper now, as if speaking to someone asleep.
"It'll keep you warm on cold nights… when the other one's distracted, and you miss me."
Her eyes filled again.
"Because she won't hear you like I do. She won't understand your cries. She won't know what you like. She'll mess up, and you'll feel alone. And when that happens…"
Her fingers gripped the blanket.
"I'll be there."
She stood slowly, folding the blanket and placing it on the crib.
'I'm your mother.'
She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the words resonate like a vow.
'No matter what anyone says.'
'No matter what the doctors say.'
'No matter if no one believes me.'
'You're mine.'
'Mine.'
Her feet carried her to the kitchen.
The house was simple—old wooden floors, inherited furniture, pots hanging on a stained wall.
But it was a home. It was a start.
And now, she needed to do more.
She needed to prove she was capable.
She needed to ensure she'd have a place to raise her child.
She opened the cupboard and took a chipped mug, filling it with tap water. She drank slowly, staring at her blurred reflection in the window.
Her hair tied back, faint dark circles under her eyes, a thin face.
'But I'm still young. I still have time.'
'I can do this.'
'I can be everything he needs.'
She set the mug in the sink, grabbed the worn bag hanging behind the door, and checked the folded papers inside.
Résumé. References. A handwritten letter in her careful script, explaining she just needed a chance.
'One chance is all I need.'
---
Clark's House
The yellowish light bathed the room softly as Clark finished buttoning his dark shirt in front of the mirror. The collar was too tight. He tugged, adjusted, tried again. The jacket tossed on the bed showed he wasn't quite ready to leave, but the focused look in his reflection said otherwise.
'Date.'
The word still felt strange.
He adjusted the cuff of his shirt, his fingers quick and precise.
Alicia seemed increasingly unstable… but also useful. And more than that, she trusted him. The mind control he exerted over her was functional, but not absolute. He needed to maintain the connection. Going out with her was just a tactic.
Still, the idea of an actual date… was part of the game.
The sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. Light footsteps on the wooden floor.
Clark heard her before he saw her.
Diana.
Her steady steps climbed the stairs. A gentle knock at the door.
Clark turned smoothly.
"Diana."
She appeared in the doorway, her hair still slightly damp, her skin glowing faintly from the heat of the caves. She wore a curious expression and a restrained smile.
"You're looking sharp."
Clark raised an eyebrow, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on calmly.
"It's just a date."
Diana tilted her head slightly, her eyes taking in every detail of him.
"With someone we know?"
Clark paused mid-zip.
"No. Alicia."
Diana arched an eyebrow.
"That's new."
Clark nodded, his eyes calm.
"She showed up recently. Long story. It's more about keeping an eye on her than romance."
Diana stepped into the room, opening the built-in closet and grabbing a towel.
"I hope you know what you're doing."
Clark crossed his arms, watching her with mild curiosity.
"Why? Jealous?"
She turned, her eyes sparking faintly.
"Jealous? No. Just surprised. Tina mentioned something the other day."
Clark frowned slightly.
"What?"
Diana draped the towel over her shoulder.
"That boyfriends usually take their girlfriends on dates. Did you know that?"
Clark blinked.
"Diana…"
She raised a hand.
"I'm not complaining. But it's curious that you're going out with a stranger, while I… have never been asked to dinner. Not once."
Silence settled for a second.
Clark exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
'I never thought about it. With Diana, it was different. She was a warrior. An Amazon. Romance always came in quiet gestures, glances, mutual respect.'
But she wanted more.
"Diana… I didn't know you cared about that kind of thing."
She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms, her eyes fixed on him.
"I grew up among warriors. Among battles and rituals. But here… here I learned that loving someone also involves different rituals."
Clark stepped closer, his voice softer now.
"You wanted a date?"
Diana tilted her head slightly, her tone firm yet calm.
"It didn't need to be flowers or music. Just something that was ours."
Clark nodded slowly, his expression sincere.
"I won't forget this. I promise."
Diana studied him for a few more seconds.
"You'd better not."
She turned on her heels and stepped into the bedroom's bathroom.
The door closed with a soft click.
Clark stood still, staring at the empty space where she'd been moments before.
'That was unexpected.'
But also real.
Diana was always strong, rational… but there was something vulnerable there. Something he hadn't expected from her.
Maybe he'd been wrong to assume she didn't care.
Maybe… he was more invested than he let on.
He turned back to the mirror, adjusting the jacket's collar.
His reflection stared back with a sharper gaze now.
'I can handle this.'
The sky was darkening.
Clark grabbed the keys from the dresser, running a hand through his hair one last time.
"A date with Alicia. And a promise to keep with Diana."
His steps echoed down the stairs as he left, the house fading behind him.
But Diana's voice lingered in the air.
"Something that was ours."
And he knew, sooner or later, he'd have to deliver exactly that.
To read 10 chapters ahead, go to:
patreon.com/22Mirko22
Also, check out my other fanfic:
DXD: The Awakening of Phenex
Reincarnation, power, and a burning legacy — don't miss it!