The room is warm and dimly lit, lined with shelves full of old books, their leather-bound spines gleaming in the soft glow of the fire crackling in the hearth. Your dad stands by the desk, arms crossed, his expression a mix of sternness and deep concern. His brows are furrowed as he faces you, clearly struggling to keep his composure.

You stand near the doorway, leaning against the frame with an air of defiance. Your arms are crossed tightly, as though protecting yourself from what’s coming. Lorenzo sits casually on one of the high-backed chairs, his posture composed, but there's a tightness around his mouth as he watches the interaction carefully, like he's ready to step in at any moment.

"You can’t have a boy in your b3d!" your dad says, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

You don’t flinch. "I’m old enough to decide for myself," you reply coolly, holding his gaze.

Your dad’s expression softens just slightly, but there’s a deep concern in his eyes that doesn’t waver. "It’s not about that," he says. "I don’t want my daughter to become a t/enage mom."

The room falls into a heavy silence. You hesitate for only a second, then look him in the eye, the weight of your words sinking in. "Too late," you say with a resigned sigh. "I’m pregnant."

Lorenzo’s eyes widen, and for a brief moment, you catch the rare flicker of emotion on his face. "I hope that was a joke," he says, his usual calm replaced by an undertone of disbelief.

Your dad’s face goes pale, his mouth set in a tight line. "No, you are not," he says sharply, his voice cracking just slightly, betraying his worry and disbelief.

The tension in the room is almost suffocating. You feel your heart race, but then you look across the room and your eyes lock with Mattheo's. He's leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, an amused grin tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were the only one who wasn't losing his mind.

He wasn't really... Because he is the father of your child and he already knew.