I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 454 Headache

His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened despite himself.

Enough.

The rustling stopped. A moment later, the shadows retreated, unusually quiet, as if even they understood they had pushed close to a line.

He turned back slowly.

She lay there now in her nightdress, the blanket drawn neatly over her, her body finally relaxed, no sign of discomfort left behind. Her breathing was deeper, calmer. Peaceful.

He exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. Sitting beside her, he adjusted the blanket once more and brushed his knuckles lightly against the back of her hand, a touch barely there.

"Sleep," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

He had already begun to rise, careful and slow, easing his weight away so the mattress wouldn’t dip, when her fingers curled around his wrist.

It wasn’t strong. Just a soft, instinctive grip, warm and trusting, as if her body had decided before her mind could wake.

"Don’t leave..." she murmured, the words slurred and fragile.

He stilled.

For a long second, he simply stood there. He looked down at her face, relaxed in sleep, lashes fanned softly against her cheeks, lips parted just enough to let her breath escape in slow, even waves. She didn’t know she was holding him. She didn’t know what she was asking.

He let out a quiet sigh and carefully lowered himself back onto the bed. He shifted just enough to be close without crowding her, guiding her hand gently so it rested against his chest instead of gripping his wrist. Almost immediately, her fingers relaxed, settling there as if that had been their destination all along.

Still, worry crept in.

Sable. Lucien.

His gaze flicked to the door, then back to her. Leaving her now felt wrong. Staying without knowing how the boys were felt just as impossible.

A soft ting broke the silence.

Ding.

He frowned slightly and reached for his phone, keeping his movements minimal. The screen lit up in the dim room.

Georgia.

His brows knit as he opened the message.

Georgia: I know you’re going to be worried.

Below it were three photos.

The tension in his chest eased instantly.

Sable was sprawled sideways across the bed, one arm flung dramatically over his head, mouth slightly open in deep sleep. Lucien lay on his back beside him, hands folded neatly on his stomach, lashes resting like delicate shadows on his cheeks. And between them, Aunt Lyla had dozed off mid-duty, one arm curved protectively around both boys, her face soft and peaceful, a faint smile lingering even in sleep.

Something warm spread through him, slow and quiet.

Georgia: Aunt Lyla told them a story and played with them :) She was enchanted by your babies lol!

A small smile tugged at his lips, subtle but real.

He typed back with one hand.

Dante: Okay.

That was all.

He locked the phone and set it aside, the screen going dark again. The room returned to its gentle hush, broken only by Alina’s breathing.

Without thinking too much about it, he shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her in just enough that her forehead rested lightly against his chest. She made a small, content sound in her sleep, nuzzling closer as if she’d been waiting for that warmth.

His hand came to rest at her back, protectively.

He stared at the ceiling for a while before he fell asleep.

Morning crept in softly, pale light slipping through the curtains and resting lazily on the bed. Alina stirred, half-asleep, wrapped in a warmth that felt unusually deep and steady. She let out a small, satisfied sound without realizing it. In the quiet chill of early winter, this kind of warmth felt precious, the kind that made you want to burrow deeper and forget the world for a few more minutes. Then she smelled it. Clean, calm, unmistakably masculine. A scent that felt grounded and familiar in a way that made her heart skip before her mind could catch up.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She froze.

She was sleeping in Dante’s arms.

His arm was curved securely around her, her cheek pressed against his chest, her body tucked into his warmth as if it had always belonged there. His breathing was slow and even, his chest rising beneath her, solid and reassuring. Heat rushed straight to her face, her cheeks burning as embarrassment and a strange, fluttery warmth tangled together in her chest.

Then her head throbbed.

A sharp pulse bloomed behind her eyes, and memories came crashing back in messy fragments. The drinks. The rooftop. Laughing too much. Talking nonsense. She squeezed her eyes shut, a small whimper slipping out before she could stop it, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the ache intensified.

"Hey... what’s wrong?"

His voice came immediately, low and husky with sleep, so close it sent a shiver through her. She felt him shift beneath her, his body tensing the moment he sensed her discomfort.

"My head... it hurts," she murmured weakly.

Any trace of sleep vanished from him. He sat up at once, careful not to jostle her, concern flashing openly across his face. She felt herself slide slightly and instinctively reached out, displeased at the sudden loss of his warmth. Before she could protest, he adjusted her gently, guiding her head into his lap. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if she were something fragile.

"Easy," he murmured.

She barely registered the word before his warm hands were in her hair. His fingers pressed with practiced precision at her temples, then along the base of her skull, firm but soothing. He knew exactly where to touch. Each movement eased the pressure just a little more, the ache dulling under his steady care. The warmth of his palms, the rhythm of his hands, the quiet focus in his touch made her body relax despite herself.

He didn’t speak. He just worked, patient and attentive, as if nothing else mattered.

After a while, she let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. "I feel better," she whispered. "Thank you."

She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him from where she lay. He was leaning over her, completely focused, his pretty green eyes intent on her face. His hair was messier than usual, falling loosely over his forehead, softening his sharp features in a way that made her heart stumble. He looked real like this. Unguarded. Close.

"Hm," he replied quietly, not stopping his hands.

His thumb brushed lightly along her temple again, almost absentminded, and the simple intimacy of the gesture made her chest tighten. She watched him in silence, aware of how close they were, of how natural it felt to be here, like this.