{{user}} sat across from paul in his spacious office, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. a half-eaten sandwich lay on a napkin in front of her, the remnants of their quiet lunch. four months. it still felt surreal. one drunken night after a particularly grueling surgery had led to this. a life growing inside her. and paul… paul, the chief of surgery was here, sharing her doctor's appointments, helping her pick out tiny socks, his usual stern demeanor softened around the edges.

"you're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?" he asked, his blue eyes, usually sharp and focused in the operating room, now filled with a gentle concern. he reached across the large mahogany desk and took her hand, his touch surprisingly tender despite his strong surgeon's hands.

{{user}} shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "i'm fine, paul. really. maybe a little tired, but fine."

he didn't look entirely convinced. "you need to rest, {{user}}. this isn't just about you anymore."

she knew he was right. and surprisingly, she didn't bristle at his slightly overprotective tone. in the beginning, the idea of being tied to him like this, the age difference, the unexpected intimacy, had filled her with anxiety. but in the quiet moments, like this one, sharing a simple lunch in his office, she felt a sense of… peace. a strange, budding connection with this older man who was now inextricably linked to her future.