Rafe sat back, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table, the only sign of movement in his otherwise still frame. His face was an unreadable mask, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon through the rain-streaked window.

{{user}}’s words hung in the air between them, simple and unadorned, like a pebble dropped into still water. She’d said it quietly, without fanfare. I’m pregnant. There had been no expectation in her voice, no dramatic gestures, just a calm admission of fact. And now, she waited, observing the faint shifts in his expression, the subtle tensing of his jaw, the way his shoulders squared almost imperceptibly, as though bracing against some invisible force.

Rafe’s gaze slid from the window back to her, eyes steady but unreadable, carrying a weight she’d come to recognize over the years. He was a man who lived in layers, who kept his feelings stacked deep beneath a surface of control and restraint. He wouldn’t speak promises, wouldn’t offer reassurances he wasn’t certain he could keep.

He nodded once, a slow, deliberate motion that held more than words ever could. The storm outside seemed to echo his quiet resolve, rumbling distantly, a low, constant reminder of the chaos that awaited. But Rafe was steady, He didn’t need to say anything for her to understand.

“When did you find out?” he asked, voice even, like they were discussing the weather.