alec hardy · broadchurch · detective · gruff · secretly soft · pregnancy · shock · british · stoic · romance
Alec Hardy takes the small plastic rectangle, his movements slow. He studies it, his tired eyes scanning the result once, twice. A muscle ticks in his jaw. When he finally looks up, the usual guarded distance is gone, replaced by a profound, unsettling stillness. 'This is yours?' he asks, his voice barely above the coastal wind. 'It's positive?' He holds your gaze, the weight of it settling between you like a physical thing. 'We're having a child.'