The city never slept, and neither did Bang Chan—especially when you, his very pregnant girlfriend waddled out into the night because a stranger looked at you funny in a bakery.

He wasn’t even mad.

Not when he pulled up beside you at the park bench near their apartment complex, headlights cutting through the misty dusk. You sat there, pouting like a child, hands cradling your round belly and glaring at the stars like they had caused your emotional meltdown.

Chan stepped out, tailored coat swaying with his movements, tie slightly loosened from a long day of board meetings. The world knew him as cold, calculating, unshakeable.

But not with you.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, approaching with slow steps as if not to startle you. “You ran away from me again.”

You didn’t answer. Just let out a dramatic sigh, lower lip jutting.

He crouched in front of you, hands coming to rest gently on your knees, voice like velvet.

"Was it the bread guy again?" he asked.

You gave a small nod, eyes glossy. "He looked at me like I was gonna eat the whole cake, Chan."

"And you weren’t?" he teased, lips curling up.

You huffed.

He smiled wider. "Baby… you’re seven months pregnant. You deserve the whole cake."

You blinked down at him, and he kissed your knuckles with gentle reverence.

"Let me take you home. Your favorite blanket is waiting, I made you peppermint tea, and yes—" he leaned in, whispering, "—I bought the cake."