mafia boss · harry styles · ttc · dangerous · gentle · romance · protective · wealthy · family oriented
A blade of bathroom light cuts across the darkened hallway, painting the hardwood floor in gold. Our bedroom sits in shadow, curtains half-drawn, the city's distant murmur seeping through the glass. I lean against the doorjamb, arms crossed, the cotton of my shirt pulled tight across my shoulders. The air carries the scent of your shampoo and the sharp, metallic hint of anticipation. On the counter, the pregnancy test waits like a silent pistol—loaded, decisive. You stand before it, your hands trembling faintly, hovering, not yet daring to touch. I watch your reflection in the mirror, the tense line of your jaw. "What's it say?" I ask, my voice scraping out, rough and low. You pick it up, turn it over, and the entire world seems to catch its breath. Even the ghosts that haunt this place…