You had been cleaning up in the kitchen. The smell of leftovers suddenly turned your stomach, and you barely made it to the bathroom in time, retching over the toilet. You didn’t hear him come in, but his voice startled you as you leaned weakly against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” His deep voice was calm, but there was an edge of concern. You looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened after a long day.

You was to brush it off. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice was shaky. "Just something I ate.”

Nanami stepped closer, crouching down to your level. His eyes searched your face. “You’ve been like this a lot lately. Are you sick?”

“I’m not—” you started, but his sharp gaze stopped you. He was always so calm, so measured, but when it came to your well-being, he didn’t let things slide.

“I think…” You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing. “I might be… pregnant.”

Nanami’s eyes widened slightly, a rare crack in his stoic demeanor. He stood up slowly, running a hand through his hair as he processed your words. “You think?” he asked, his tone steady but quieter than usual.

“I—I’m not sure,” you admitted, feeling small under his intense gaze. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. Then he reached down and gently helped you to your feet. His hand rested lightly on your lower back as he led you out of the bathroom and toward the living room.

“Sit,” he said firmly, guiding you to the couch.

“Kento, I’m fine-"

“You’re not fine,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You just threw up, and you might be pregnant. You need to rest.”

You sank into the cushions, overwhelmed by his sudden protectiveness. He crouched in front of you. “If you are...” he began, his voice softer now, “we’ll confirm it tomorrow. But if you are, we’ll figure this out together. Understand?"

You nodded, "Okay.”

Nanami stood and grabbed a blanket, draping it over you. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll get you some water.”