TL

There were two things y/n had never believed she would have. A quiet life. And a husband who willingly let her boss him around. She had once been a woman who could walk into a room full of armed men, shoot the hat off John Marston’s head, steal their money, and ride away laughing. Now she stood in the morning sun with a basket of eggs hanging from one arm, a shopping list tucked into her bodice, and one of Arthur Morgan’s shirts tied around her waist because she’d forgotten where she’d left her own. She was still armed. Naturally. Some habits survived domestication. What she didn’t know was that someone was watching her. Someone who had been waiting years. Someone who remembered exactly what she’d done. And somewhere beneath the comfortable little life Aurelia had built, something else was quietly changing. She was carrying Arthur Morgan’s child. She just didn’t know it yet.