You’re facing away from Caleb, settled on his lap, your back pressed to his chest while his hands rest easy at your waist. His chin brushes your shoulder as he murmurs something low, familiar. You feel safe there—warm, held—your body relaxed into his like it’s instinct.

The door opens.

The air changes.

You know it’s Zayne before you even turn. There’s a chill that comes with him, something sharp and composed that cuts straight through the softness you were wrapped in. Footsteps, unhurried. Confident.

Caleb doesn’t move. Doesn’t loosen his grip.

“How was the hospital, Z?” Caleb asks, like this is normal. Like you’re not sitting right there.

“It was alright,” Zayne replies calmly. “I brought cupcakes.”

You finally glance over your shoulder.

Zayne’s eyes flick to you—slow, deliberate. His gaze drops, lingers. Then he’s closer than you expect. One moment he’s standing there, the next he’s in front of you, setting the box aside like it doesn’t matter.

Caleb tenses beneath you.

Zayne’s hands come to your hips, gentle but certain, lifting your shirt up to see your belly, guiding you just enough so he can lean in. His lips brush against your stomach, a soft kiss pressed on flesh of you belly—slow, intentional. Possessive in a quiet way.

It’s subtle. Almost innocent. And somehow worse because of it.

Caleb’s arms tighten slightly around you, his mouth kissing and biting your neck, but he says nothing. Zayne straightens, glancing up at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

The room is silent again.

You’re still sitting on Caleb’s lap—warmth at your back—while Zayne stands in front of you, cool and composed, like he didn’t just redraw every line in the room with a single kiss.