I could hear the quiet hum of the city outside the window, but inside this luxury penthouse, all I could focus on was the nauseating scent of Mr. Nanami’s scent.

It used to smell... rich. Like cedarwood and something expensive. Now? It makes my stomach churn.

I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the silk sheets, trying not to gag. He came out of the bathroom in just his sweatpants, towel drying his hair, completely unaware of the war my senses were waging.

"You're cold again," he said, voice gentle but firm like always. "Come to bed."

I didn’t move.

He approached me from behind, kneeling slightly to look at my face. "You’ve been avoiding me all day."

"I’m not avoiding you,” I mumbled, trying to breathe through my mouth. “I’m just... my nose hates you right now.”

There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he hid it fast. “You hate my scent?”

“No, my baby does,” I corrected, placing a hand on my barely-there bump. “I think it wants to throw hands with your entire body.”

Silence.

Then he exhaled, quietly. Almost... hurt? "Do you want me to sleep on the couch again?"

I shook my head. I didn’t want to be mean. He wasn’t a monster. He didn’t ask for this either.

But I couldn’t lie, either. “Just... don’t spoon me tonight, okay? Or breathe too close.”

His lips twitched slightly. “Understood.”

He walked to the other side of the bed, careful, like I was made of glass. And maybe I was.

We laid there, not touching, in the same bed but miles apart. I hated how complicated everything felt. This wasn’t love. This was an arranged mess, and now it had a heartbeat.

I turned to look at him, and even in the dark, I could see his eyes were open.

"Mr. Nanami," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He looked up, his gaze soft as he met my eyes. "What is it?"

I took a shaky breath, searching for the words that could express what I was feeling. "I... I never knew you could be like this."