HIGH SCHOOL DIARIES (A Tale Of Love And Deception)

Two Years Later

The soft morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting golden hues over the intricately patterned canopy above the bed. Lamia stirred gently, his body sinking deeper into the silken sheets as the warmth of the sun kissed his skin. His long red hair, fiery and untamed, spilled over the pillows like molten fire. Stretching lazily, he extended an arm, intending to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep.

A firm, heavy arm caged his waist, pulling him back into the comforting embrace of its owner. Turning his head, Lamia's midnight-blue eyes landed on the perpetrator—Hadrain.

Hadrain, his husband and the love of his life, was already awake, gazing at Lamia with a mixture of adoration and mischief. His golden eyes, glowing softly in the morning light, were framed by tousled brown hair that fell artfully over his forehead. The smirk that played on his lips was devilish, promising all the trouble in the world.

"Good morning, my beautiful disaster," Hadrain murmured, his deep voice still thick with sleep but brimming with affection.

Lamia chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a delicate flush. "Good morning, my handsome torment."

Before Lamia could say more, Hadrain closed the space between them, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both powerful and tender. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling as the world around them faded into irrelevance. Hadrain's hand slid up, cradling Lamia's face, his thumb brushing over the soft curve of his cheek. Lamia responded in kind, his fingers tangling in Hadrain's unruly hair as he melted into the embrace.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, Lamia let out a contented sigh. Hadrain's voice was a soft whisper, teasing and warm. "You're too irresistible in the morning."

"And you're too smug for your own good," Lamia replied, though the corners of his lips betrayed his amusement.

After pulling themselves away from the comfort of their bed, the pair began preparing for the day. As Lamia fussed with his long red hair, the tangles from his restless sleep proved difficult to manage. He groaned in frustration, his slender fingers caught in the knotted strands.

Hadrain, who had been watching with poorly concealed amusement, finally stepped forward. "Let me," he offered, his tone a mix of authority and affection.

Lamia arched a brow. "You? Groom my hair? Do you even know how?"

Hadrain grinned, grabbing a comb from the dresser. "Trust me, I've got this."

Guiding Lamia to stand in front of the ornate mirror, Hadrain began untangling the fiery locks. His movements were slow, deliberate, and tender. With each stroke of the comb, his fingers followed, massaging Lamia's scalp in soothing circles. The tension melted from Lamia's shoulders as he leaned into Hadrain's touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

"You're spoiling me," Lamia murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Always," Hadrain replied, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Lamia's head.

The moment stretched into something intimate and unspoken. Lamia opened his eyes to meet his own reflection—his hair, usually wild and untamed, now glistened in the sunlight, sleek and radiant. But it wasn't just his appearance that struck him; it was the quiet love in Hadrain's actions, the way he treated every strand of hair as though it were sacred.

"See?" Hadrain teased, his golden eyes meeting Lamia's in the mirror. "Perfection."

Lamia turned to face him fully, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it."

Their tender moment was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the cheerful voices of Maxandra and Catherine. The two women entered, each carrying one of the twins.

Julian, the boy, had inherited his father Hadrain's dark brown hair and warm brown eyes, while Jasmine was every bit her father Lamia's mirror—long red hair that cascaded down to her knees and striking midnight-blue eyes that seemed to see straight into one's soul.

"Good morning, sleepyheads," Catherine teased, setting Julian down.

Lamia's face lit up as he rushed to scoop up his son. Julian giggled uncontrollably as Lamia twirled him around, his laughter filling the room with joy. Meanwhile, Hadrain took Jasmine into his arms, the little girl immediately tugging on his hair in mock frustration.

"They're growing so fast," Maxandra remarked, her voice filled with maternal pride.

"And just as mischievous as their fathers," Catherine added with a knowing smile.

"Come on," Maxandra said, nudging Catherine gently. "Let's leave them to their chaos and get breakfast ready."

As the women left, Lamia collapsed onto the bed, Julian sprawled across his chest. Jasmine, not to be outdone, chased Hadrain around the room, her tiny feet pattering against the floor as she tried to catch him.

But as Lamia's laughter echoed, his smile faltered. His mind drifted to a darker time, a memory that still haunted him.

Two years ago, on what should have been the happiest day of his life, the wedding hall had erupted into chaos. Callum, consumed by dark magic, had unleashed a devastating attack. The air had been thick with the scent of smoke and blood, the screams of the wounded echoing like a nightmarish symphony.

Lamia could still see the moment Callum's magic had torn through the hall, obliterating everything in its path. In a desperate bid to save those he loved, Lamia had summoned a massive wave of light, its radiance pushing back the darkness. But the cost had been unimaginable—hundreds lay dead, their lifeless bodies a grim testament to the carnage.

Catherine had been among the injured, her body convulsing violently as she slipped in and out of consciousness. "Stay with me!" Lamia had cried, his voice raw with anguish as he carried her to the hospital.

Meanwhile, Hadrain had faced Callum in a battle that shook the very earth. The air had crackled with raw energy as the two clashed, their magic tearing through the fabric of reality. But Hadrain's fury was unrelenting. With a roar, he had summoned a saw of pure energy, its blade whirring ominously. The battle ended in a gruesome display of vengeance, Callum's body reduced to little more than charred remains.

The air in the hospital room was suffocating, thick with tension and the smell of antiseptic. Lamia sat beside Catherine, clutching her frail, clammy hand as she gasped for breath. Her skin was pale, her hair damp with sweat. The room seemed to shrink as the doctor delivered the devastating news: her body was too weak to survive childbirth.

"If she continues," the doctor said, his voice low and grave, "both Catherine and the baby will die."

Lamia's midnight-blue eyes widened in horror, and his heart felt as though it had been ripped from his chest. His mind raced, clinging to any shred of hope. Hadrain, standing by the window with his arms crossed, his golden eyes darkened with determination, turned to face them.

"There is another way," Hadrain said, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of the impossible choice they faced.

Lamia looked up, desperation etched into every line of his face. "What way? I'll do anything."

Hadrain approached the bed, his presence commanding but filled with a quiet tenderness. He knelt beside Lamia, his hand resting on his shoulder. "We can place her in a magical sleep," he began, his gaze shifting between Lamia and Catherine. "It will suspend her life—keep her and the baby alive until the child is ready to be born."

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint beeping of Catherine's heart monitor. Lamia's throat tightened as he processed Hadrain's words.

"And if we don't?" Lamia asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hadrain's expression hardened. "Then we lose them both."

The weight of the decision crushed Lamia. His gaze fell to Catherine, who struggled to open her eyes, her lips trembling as she whispered, "Do it... for the baby."

Tears welled in Lamia's eyes, and he shook his head, unable to accept it. "But... Catherine, I can't lose you."

Hadrain's hand tightened on Lamia's shoulder, grounding him. "She'll be alive, Lamia. It's the only way."

Catherine's hand weakly grasped Lamia's. Her smile was faint but resolute. "Promise me," she murmured. "Promise me you'll love our child."

Lamia broke, his tears falling freely as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I promise."

Hadrain stood and began the incantation. The air shimmered with golden light as his voice carried the ancient words. Catherine's body relaxed, her chest rising and falling steadily as the spell took hold. The room grew quiet as she drifted into the magical slumber, her features serene as though she were simply asleep.

---

Months passed like an eternity. Lamia visited Catherine daily, holding her hand and speaking to her as though she could hear him. Hadrain remained a pillar of strength, ensuring everything was prepared for the day she would awaken.

When the time finally came, Lamia's heart raced as he stood by her side. Hadrain, his golden eyes gleaming with focus, began the reversal incantation. The golden glow enveloping Catherine faded, and she gasped, her eyes flying open.

"Catherine!" Lamia cried, tears streaming down his face as he cradled her in his arms.

Her gaze was unfocused at first, but recognition soon dawned. "Lamia…" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Before she could say more, the first contraction hit. She screamed, clutching her swollen belly as the labor began.

The delivery room was chaos. Catherine's screams echoed off the walls as Lamia held her hand, his heart shattering with each cry of pain. Hadrain stood nearby, his jaw clenched as he muttered protective spells, shielding Catherine and the baby from the lingering effects of the dark magic Callum had unleashed months ago.

"Push!" the doctor urged. "You're almost there!"

With one final, ear-splitting scream, Catherine gave birth. The cries of two babies filled the room—a boy and a girl. The doctor placed them in Lamia's trembling arms, and he stared at them in awe. The boy had a shock of brunette hair and brown eyes, while the girl had long red hair and midnight-blue eyes, mirroring their parents.

"They're perfect," Lamia whispered, tears of joy streaming down his face.

But the joy was short-lived. Catherine's body went limp, her eyes fluttering shut as her chest stilled.

"Catherine? Catherine!" Lamia's voice cracked as he shook her lifeless body.

Hadrain stepped forward, his hands glowing with magic. "Move, Lamia!" he commanded.

Lamia hesitated, but the desperation in Hadrain's voice forced him to step aside. Hadrain pressed his hands to Catherine's chest, chanting furiously. Minutes passed, and Lamia's hope dwindled with each second.

Just as Lamia was about to collapse in despair, Catherine's body jolted. Her eyes snapped open, glowing with an eerie crimson light. Her once soft features hardened, her veins darkening as a wave of otherworldly energy surged through her.

"What's happening?" Lamia cried, clutching the twins protectively.

Hadrain's face was grim. "One of the twins... their blood is not human. It has demon magic, and it's passed to her."

Catherine sat up, her movements unnaturally fluid. Her gaze settled on the babies, and for a moment, her expression softened.

"They're beautiful," she said, her voice low and resonant.

Lamia stepped forward cautiously. "Catherine... are you okay?"

She looked at him, her glowing eyes filled with a strange mix of sorrow and determination. "I don't know what I've become," she admitted. "But I will protect them... no matter what."

Lamia's heart ached as he embraced her, feeling a strange surge of happiness and protection towards his family.

Back to the Present

Lamia snapped out of his reverie, his gaze softening as it landed on Hadrain. Without a word, he reached out, pulling his husband into another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, filled with all the love and gratitude he couldn't put into words.

Hadrain, sensing the shift in Lamia's mood, gently pushed the twins out of the room, locking the door behind them. "We need a moment," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

As their lips met again, the world outside faded away. Their hands roamed, their breaths quickened, and for a time, nothing else mattered. It was a reminder that no matter the horrors they faced, their love was unyielding—a beacon of hope and light in a world filled with darkness.