Chapter 119: Chapter 119: Undoing
I wake up exhausted.
Not because of the pregnancy this time, although that certainly isn’t helping. My back still aches faintly when I shift too quickly and my body feels heavy in that unfamiliar way I’ve slowly been adjusting to over the past few months, but the deeper exhaustion sitting underneath everything else has nothing to do with physical discomfort.
It’s emotional.
The kind that settles quietly into your chest after spending hours trying not to think about something and failing repeatedly anyway.
For several long seconds after opening my eyes, I just lie there staring blankly at the ceiling.
Then memory catches up immediately.
*Come back to our room tonight.*
My throat tightens before I can stop it. I close my eyes again with a quiet exhale, one arm falling across them automatically.
This is exactly why I pulled away.
Because even after everything, even after standing there last night practically reminding Bael that this marriage started as obligation and practicality and absolutely nothing else, part of me still wanted to go with him anyway.
That is the dangerous part.
Not the kiss, not the touching.
The fact that somewhere along the way, Bael stopped feeling emotionally safe to love from a distance.
Now every small moment between us sinks too deep before I can stop it.
I force myself upright slowly before my thoughts can spiral further.
The estate is still mostly quiet at this hour. Somewhere downstairs I can hear faint movement from the kitchen staff beginning breakfast preparations, distant enough to blend softly into the silence surrounding the room.
Normally mornings here feel peaceful.
Lately they mostly feel dangerous. Because mornings are domestic in a way evenings aren’t.
Soft lighting, shared breakfasts, casual conversations spoken half-awake over tea and coffee.
And Bael has become increasingly difficult to survive in domestic settings lately.
The thought irritates me enough that I climb out of bed and head toward the bathroom before my brain can continue sabotaging me emotionally before eight in the morning.
By the time I’m dressed, I’ve mostly forced myself back under control.
Or close enough.
I tell myself very firmly that yesterday changed nothing.
Bael kissed me because emotions were running high before the gala.
Bael touched me because I’m carrying his child.
Bael asked me to come back because he dislikes unresolved tension and prefers order inside his household.
None of those things mean what some reckless part of me keeps wanting them to mean.
The problem is that the explanations no longer settle as neatly inside my head as they used to.
I hate that.
I leave the room anyway.
The hallway is quiet while I walk downstairs slowly, one hand trailing lightly against the railing more out of habit than necessity. Halfway down, voices drift faintly from the dining room.
One of them is Bael’s.
My steps falter automatically.
Stupid.
I continue downward before I can reconsider it.
The moment I step into the dining room, Bael looks up immediately.
Awareness hits me all at once anyway despite my best efforts to avoid it.
He’s dressed casually today for once instead of formally, dark athletic clothes fitting close enough to make him look unfairly good this early in the morning. His sleeves are pushed up to his forearms, exposing strong lean muscle beneath lightly tanned skin while one hand rests loosely around a coffee cup near his elbow.
His grey eyes settle on me steadily for one brief second before shifting away again.
Calm, composed, entirely controlled.
Nothing about him outwardly suggests he spent last night looking at me like I’d said something capable of unsettling him.
For one irrational moment, disappointment flickers through me before I crush it immediately.
What exactly was I expecting?
Mrs. Wen notices me next.
"Young master, good morning," she says warmly. "I was about to send breakfast upstairs."
"I’m pregnant, not dying," I mutter while sitting down.
Her expression turns flat instantly.
"Eat."
I sigh quietly and reach for the tea instead of arguing because emotionally I simply don’t have the energy for it this morning.
Across from me, Bael says nothing initially.
Which somehow feels worse.
I can feel his attention occasionally lifting toward me anyway despite the silence, subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it happening.
Unfortunately, I notice everything he does lately.
Tea appears closer to my hand a second later.
I blink before realizing Bael pushed the cup toward me absentmindedly while reading something on his phone.
The tiny movement shouldn’t affect me.
It does anyway.
"Thanks," I say before I can stop myself.
Bael glances up briefly.
"No nausea?"
The question lands softly enough that my grip tightens slightly around the teacup.
Normal.
He’s acting normal.
And somehow that almost feels cruel after last night.
"Not yet," I answer carefully.
Bael nods once before setting his phone aside entirely.
Mrs. Wen returns with breakfast moments later, muttering under her breath about both of us sleeping too little lately while placing food down in front of us.
Normally I would’ve smiled automatically at that. This morning I mostly focus on pretending my appetite still exists.
Across from me, Bael finally speaks again after several quiet minutes.
"We’re running today."
I look up immediately.
"What?"
His expression doesn’t change.
"Dr. Xi said regular exercise would help with the back pain."
I keep my eyes on the tea in front of me.
For a second, I honestly think I misheard him.
"...Exercise."
Bael takes a slow sip of coffee. Calm. Completely unaffected by the fact that yesterday ended with me nearly falling apart in front of him.
"Mm."
The quiet normalcy of it unsettles me immediately.
I set the teacup down carefully. "You cannot seriously expect me to jog with you right now."
His gaze lifts to mine then, steady, observant, and annoyingly difficult to read.
"Why not?"
The question lands too simply, like he already knows the answer.
Heat creeps uncomfortably up the back of my neck.
Because obviously he knows why not.
Because less than twelve hours ago he had me pressed against his chest asking me to come back to his room like that sentence wasn’t capable of destroying my emotional stability for an entire night afterward.
And now he’s discussing exercise over breakfast like none of it happened.
I hate that this affects me more than awkwardness would’ve.
"I said no."
Bael sets the coffee down quietly.
"You’ve barely exercised properly in weeks."
"I’m fine."
"That’s not an answer."
I look away first.
Across the table, I can feel his attention lingering on me anyway. Careful, measured, like he’s trying to understand something without pushing hard enough to make me leave again.
That realization only makes me more defensive.
"You seem very invested in this suddenly."
"The doctor told you to exercise."
"The doctor told me many things yesterday."
A brief pause.
Then Bael says calmly:
"You stopped listening halfway through."
I blink at him.
The worst part is that he sounds genuinely certain about it.
"I did not."
"You looked at the window for ten straight minutes."
Mrs. Wen abruptly turns away toward the cabinet, shoulders shaking suspiciously.
Traitor.
"I was thinking."
"Exactly."
Heat flashes across my face instantly. Because unfortunately that is exactly what I was doing.
Bael watches me for another second before leaning back slightly in his chair.
"Twenty minutes," he says. "We’ll stay inside the estate."
"I’m not agreeing."
His expression barely changes.
"You will."
I narrow my eyes immediately despite myself. "Confident."
"You get stubborn when embarrassed."
My chest nearly stops.
For one horrible second, I genuinely cannot tell whether he realizes how dangerous these conversations have become for me.
Because the problem is not the teasing itself.
The problem is that Bael has started sounding familiar again.
Warm in quiet devastating ways that slip past my defenses before I can stop them.
I force my expression flat. "You’re impossible."
"Hm."
That stupid sound again.
Calm, unbothered, faintly amused.
I want to throw the teacup at him.
Instead I look back down at breakfast, determined not to react anymore.
Then Bael says casually:
"If you get tired after one lap, I’ll try not to judge you too harshly."
I look up immediately.
He finally smiles. Small, brief, almost nonexistent, but enough.
"Oh, absolutely not."
Something shifts subtly in his expression then.
Not victory exactly, but close enough that realization hits me a second too late.
Bael knew exactly what he was doing.
And somehow, despite everything that happened last night, I walked directly into it anyway.
