God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

Chapter 538 I'd Like To Be Your Second Chance

Then, after a brief pause, Kafka finally spoke.

But his voice was different...It was softer, more gentle.

There was a quiet, almost reminiscent tone to it, as if the words he was about to say weren't just for her, but for himself as well.

"You know." He said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "You're comparing my family to yours, saying I had it better. But at the very least...you had a family from the start, didn't you?"

Bella's eyes lifted slightly, blinking at his sudden shift in tone.

Kafka leaned back against the chair, his gaze drifting slightly, as if looking at something far beyond the dining room.

"You had a mother who cared about you, who would do anything in the world for you." He continued, his voice light, almost thoughtful. "No matter what happened, no matter what you went through, at least you had her."

His smile twitched at the edges, and then, with a small chuckle, he added, "But do you know that I didn't even have that much."

Bella's expression shifted instantly...Her heart clenched.

She had heard about his past before. Her mother had told her bits and pieces, though it was always vague, never going into too much detail.

She knew that Kafka's family situation was difficult. She knew that his childhood hadn't been easy. But hearing him speak about it so casually, like it was just some passing joke.

...It stirred something inside her.

Kafka's fingers drummed lightly against the table, his smile never faltering, but his eyes—his eyes—held something else entirely.

"The truth is my birth mother didn't want me." He said lightly, as if it were the simplest fact in the world. "She thought I was useless and left me. Just like that. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just...threw me away without a care in the world."

Bella gulped even though her throat felt dry at the moment.

He said it so easily, so naturally, like it was just some ordinary thing that happened, like it hadn't shaped his entire existence.

"Can you imagine?" He continued, still smiling, though there was something deeply unsettling about it now. "What kind of baby gets thrown away like that? A child should be loved, right? Should be cherished, should be wanted."

"...But my own mother looked at me and thought, 'Nope. Not worth it.' "

His fingers stilled, his gaze drifting toward his own reflection in the untouched surface of the pasta sauce.

"I always wondered." He mused, tilting his head slightly. "What I did wrong. What was so bad about me that even as a helpless newborn, my own mother took one look and decided I wasn't worth keeping."

Bella's chest tightened. Her fingers curled tightly against the fabric of her dress.

His voice wasn't shaking. His expression wasn't breaking. He wasn't crying or showing even an ounce of vulnerability in his posture.

But something about the way he said those words—so casual, so empty—made her heart burn.

"Maybe I was some kind of devil." He continued with a small laugh, as if the thought actually amused him. "I mean, what other reason could there be, right? A baby wouldn't be abandoned unless it was cursed, unless it was something...unnatural."

Bella's eyes trembled. Her throat felt tight, as if something was lodged in it, making it impossible to speak.

Kafka still had that damn smile on his face, but now—now she could see through it.

And what she saw hurt.

Bella felt her chest tighten again—but this time, it wasn't from sadness.

It was from relief. Explore stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Kafka leaned back slightly, a soft chuckle escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair, his expression light but filled with unmistakable warmth.

"You know..." He began, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. "I wouldn't trade my mothers for anything. Not for money, not for power...not even for a hundred versions of the woman who gave birth to me."

Bella watched him, her lips curling into a small, genuine smile as he spoke. There was something truly rare about the way he talked about them.

"They raised me." He continued, his voice growing softer, more reflective. "They shaped me into who I am. They made me feel wanted. And even when I made mistakes, even when I was at my worst, they still...chose me. Every single time."

His fingers absentmindedly tapped against the table as he exhaled, a small wistful smile playing on his lips.

"I guess that's what real family is, huh? It's not about blood, not about obligation—it's about choice. And they chose to love me."

Bella nodded, listening intently, her heart warming at the clear adoration in his voice. She could tell, this wasn't just gratitude. It was love—pure, unconditional love.

For a while, he just sat there, basking in the memories, his gaze distant but filled with a quiet sort of joy.

And then—

He looked at her.

It was sudden, almost abrupt, the way his eyes flickered toward hers, locking onto them with something different this time.

Bella felt her breath hitch slightly at the hesitation in his gaze, the way his fingers stilled against the table, like he was trying to figure out how to say something he wasn't used to saying.

The shift in his demeanor was subtle, but noticeable. His usual confidence seemed to waver just slightly, replaced by something far more uncertain.

And then, finally—

He spoke.

"But, you know..." He started, his voice lower now, almost careful, as if he wasn't sure how she would take his next words. "Even though my past was like that, I...I got a second chance."

Bella frowned slightly, tilting her head in curiosity.

Kafka exhaled softly, his fingers curling slightly on the table, his eyes flickering with something vulnerable.

And then, hesitantly, almost shyly, he said,

"And if you're willing to give me a chance..."

Bella blinked. He hesitated for a second, his gaze searching hers, and then, in a tone so uncharacteristically gentle that it made her chest tighten, he continued.

"...I-I'd like to be your second chance."

Bella's heart skipped a beat as his words slowly settled into her mind.

Kafka's cheeks also tinged with the faintest shade of pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by his own words.

"I mean..." He quickly tried to recover, his voice slightly flustered. "I don't want to sound narcissistic or anything, but...I-If you'd let me, I'd like to be your second chance."

"...The father you never had, who I promise to cherish with all my heart."