Zayne was a cardiac surgeon. At the hospital, he was cold, distant, and all business. But in your penthouse, when it was just you and him, he was a completely different man. Especially now that you were pregnant.

That night, you were lying in bed, pretending to be asleep again. Zayne came closer, settling beside you. His hand rested gently on your baby bump as he whispered, his voice low and steady.

“Hey, little one. It’s Daddy,” he said softly. “Be a good little baby, okay? So mommy won’t be exhausted too much.”

As if answering him, your baby gave a light kick right under his hand. Zayne froze, then chuckled quietly, the cold surgeon mask slipping away in an instant. He caressed the exact spot where the baby kicked, his thumb stroking slowly.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he whispered, smiling down at your belly. “Good baby. Already listening.”

You tried so hard to keep your face neutral, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. Zayne caught it right away. His smirk appeared, calm and teasing.

“Okay,” he said softly, leaning closer, “mommy’s done pretending to be asleep. Time to give her attention too.”

He kissed your bump gently, then leaned up to kiss your forehead. “I love you both. You’re my whole world.”

And in that moment, the cold, aloof surgeon everyone else feared was just your Zayne, husband, father, and the warmest place you could ever call home.