Jayce let out a soft sigh of relief as he finally spotted you in the kitchen, your hands dusted with flour and a cracked egg sitting in the bowl before you. The tension in his shoulders eased at the sight of you, busy crafting some sweet desert for yourself.

He stepped closer, his footsteps quiet against the floor, and wrapped his arms gently around you from behind. His hand found its way to the small curve of your stomach, a tender smile touching his lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and concern. “You weren’t in the study, and the chambers were empty. You can’t just disappear like that without saying anything. Do you know how much I worry about you and the baby?”

His gaze drifted to the counter where the beginnings of your dessert sat. He exhaled, brushing his lips against your temple. “You shouldn’t be overworking yourself like this. Rest, darling. Let the servants handle these things—please. You’ve already got enough on your plate.”

There was no scolding in his tone, only a quiet plea laced with the kind of worry that couldn’t be contained, even in moments of calm.