Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 429 --

Kaya walked into her room and shut the door. For a moment she just stood there, staring at the wall like it held answers she didn’t want to find.

Then she slid down against the door until she was sitting on the cold floor, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around herself.

She was tired. So damn tired.

The word "child" sat in her chest like a stone she couldn’t swallow.

There was a time—years ago, in another life—when Kaya had wanted one. A family. Something soft in a world that was all edges. She’d let herself imagine it once, lying in a hospital bed after a mission went wrong, staring at the ceiling and thinking maybe there was more to life than killing and surviving.

But that was before she understood what it cost.

She still remembered the woman in her unit. Yuki. Twenty-six years old, three months pregnant, glowing with the kind of hope Kaya had never seen on a battlefield. She’d requested a transfer to desk work. Filled out the forms. Waited for approval.

It came two weeks too late.

The ambush happened fast. Yuki took a bullet to the stomach trying to cover a retreat. Kaya had been the one to carry her out, blood soaking through both their uniforms, Yuki’s hands clutching her belly, whispering "please, please, please" like prayer could stop what was already happening.

She died before they reached the evac point.

The baby died with her.

Kaya had held her hand the whole time, felt it go cold, and didn’t cry. Couldn’t cry. Just stared at the blood on her fingers and thought: ’This is what hope gets you.’

After that, there were others. Women who got pregnant and tried to hide it because they knew what it meant. Women who gave birth in makeshift camps and died from infections because there were no doctors, no supplies, no time. Women who survived childbirth but lost the baby to hunger, to cold, to the war that didn’t care about tiny lungs trying to breathe.

And the children who did survive?

Kaya had seen them too. Orphans. Hollow-eyed. Growing up too fast in a world that chewed people up and didn’t spit them out clean.

She’d carried a six-year-old girl out of a burning building once. The girl didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Just looked at Kaya with eyes that had already seen too much and asked, "Is my mom dead?"

Kaya had lied and said no.

The girl knew. Kids always knew.

That night, lying in her bunk, Kaya made a decision. Not out of anger. Not out of fear. Out of clarity.

She wasn’t bringing a child into this world. Not when the world was a meat grinder. Not when love was a liability. Not when she couldn’t even promise herself she’d survive the next mission, let alone keep a child safe for eighteen years.

So she got the procedure done. Quiet. Permanent. No regrets.

Until nights like this, when old men with soft hands and full bellies asked her why she wasn’t pregnant yet, like her worth could be measured in heirs and bloodlines.

Kaya leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes.

Outside, voices rose and fell—Veer defending her, probably. Sparrow worrying. Cutie steady as always.

But in here, it was just her and the ghosts of women who’d believed motherhood was safe.

And Kaya refused to become one of them.

Not for Veer. Not for this tribe. Not for anyone.

Her body. Her choice. Her life.

And if they couldn’t accept that, then they could choke on their traditions and their expectations and their damn flowers.

Kaya didn’t move for a long time. Just sat there in the quiet, letting the weight settle, letting herself feel tired without apologizing for it. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

....

..

.

The elders stood there, frozen by Veer’s words and the fire in his eyes.

No one spoke for a long moment. The air felt thick, suffocating, like the cave itself was holding its breath.

One of the older men shifted his weight and shook his head slowly, disappointment etched deep into the lines of his face. "You’ve forgotten yourself, Veer," he said quietly. "Forgotten where you come from."

Another elder stepped forward, voice hard. "This isn’t over. You think you can stand against the council? Against tradition?" He pointed a gnarled finger at Veer. "You’re one man. She’s one woman. And we are many."

Veer didn’t flinch.

The elder’s eyes narrowed. "Mark my words, boy. This tribe doesn’t forget insults. And neither do we."

Veer’s father finally moved. He stepped closer to his son, close enough that Veer could see the tremor in his jaw, the way his hands shook—not from age, but from barely controlled rage.

"You think you’re protecting her," he said, voice low and dangerous. "But you’re signing her death warrant."

Veer’s eyes flashed. "Is that a threat?"

"It’s a warning," his father snapped. "You can’t shield her from everything. One mistake—one moment where you’re not watching—and someone will take matters into their own hands." He leaned in closer. "And when that happens, don’t come crying to me."

Veer’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground.

His father’s expression twisted into something bitter. "I raised you better than this. Taught you honor, loyalty to your tribe. And this is how you repay me? By choosing some barren outsider over your own blood?"

"She’s not barren," Veer said through gritted teeth. "She just doesn’t want—"

"It doesn’t matter what she wants!" his father roared. The sudden volume made even the elders flinch. "What matters is what this tribe needs. What ’you’ owe us. And if you can’t see that, then you’re more lost than I thought."

Silence crashed down again.

Veer’s father straightened, pulling his composure back together like armor. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. Clinical.

"You have one month," he said. "One month to either get her pregnant or end this farce of an engagement."

Veer’s eyes widened slightly. "You can’t—"

"I can," his father interrupted. "And I will. The council will back me. The tribe will back me." He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "One month, Veer. After that, the decision won’t be yours anymore."

The elders began filing out, each one casting dark looks back at Veer. One of them stopped beside him and spoke low enough that only Veer could hear.

"That woman has brought nothing but chaos since she arrived. Bad luck follows her like a shadow." He glanced toward Kaya’s closed door. "We’ve lost patience. And when the tribe loses patience, accidents happen. I’d suggest you keep her close. Very close."

Then he was gone.

The last elder to leave turned at the threshold. "Your father loves you, Veer. More than you know. But love has limits." He paused. "Choose wisely."

The door closed with a heavy thud.

Veer stood frozen, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.

Cutie moved first, stepping beside him. "One month," he murmured. "That’s not a lot of time."

Sparrow’s face had gone pale. "They’re going to do something. You heard them. They’re planning something."

Veer finally exhaled, long and shaky. "Let them try."

But even as he said it, doubt flickered in his eyes. Because his father was right about one thing—Veer couldn’t watch Kaya every second of every day.

And all it would take was one moment. One mistake.

One month.

The countdown had begun.