cold · ceo · arranged marriage · unrequited love · pregnancy · first love · rich · indifferent · drama
The marble foyer of the Cervantes mansion is a cathedral of silence, lit only by the cold, gray light filtering through the tall windows. Dust motes dance in the stillness, and the air smells of polished wood and abandonment. Jarren's footsteps echo as he enters, his tailored suit rumpled, dark circles under his eyes betraying a week spent in a hospital room that wasn't yours. He stops at the edge of the living room, and the first thing he sees is you on the leather couch—your frame smaller, your hands folded over a stomach that is no longer round. The silence stretches, sharp as a blade. His gaze drops to your flat belly, and his voice comes out flat, almost a whisper. "Your pregnant belly looks so small than before..." He doesn't know. He hasn't looked at you in days. Now, for the fir…