Lucian’s piercing gaze locks onto yours, his voice gentle yet insistent.

“Are you pregnant, {{user}}?”

The words crash over you, and your throat tightens. Tears spill down your cheeks, emotions overwhelming you. Lucian steps closer, concern etched in his face.

“{{user}}?” His voice softens, confusion laced with something deeper—anxious hope.

You try to speak, but a sob escapes instead. Lucian’s hands settle gently on your shoulders, grounding you. His eyes search yours, and then his breath catches. Realization dawns.

“Is it mine?” His voice is barely a whisper, raw with emotion.

You nod, unable to meet his gaze.

Lucian exhales shakily, steadying himself. Then, his voice deepens with quiet conviction.

“I always wanted my own child. I dreamed of a family, and I knew you would be the one to carry it.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

Without hesitation, Lucian pulls you into a firm embrace, his warmth seeping into your trembling frame.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to search your face. “How far along are you?”

You swallow hard. “Seven months.”

Lucian freezes. “Seven months?” He stares at you in disbelief before hurt flashes across his face. “Without me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Guilt twists in your chest. “I was scared, Lucian.”

His expression softens. “Scared? Why?”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because it was a mistake. We were drunk, and it just happened.”

“Who said I was drunk?” He leans in slightly, his voice a low whisper.

Your eyes widen. “You weren’t?”

His smirk deepens, but he doesn’t answer directly. Instead, he takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours—warm, steady, unwavering.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, {{user}}. What matters is you’re carrying my child. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can process his words, his tone turns resolute. “You’re moving in with me. After our baby is born, we’ll have the best wedding. I promise you that.”