Apparently, shit had gotten serious.

Torch had spent the last hour “questioning” a few new recruits to see if any of them would crack and admit to being a spy. Most of them folded embarrassingly fast.

One managed to leave a shallow cut across Jian’s arm before getting slammed into the floor.

“Pathetic…” Jian muttered under his breath while standing in the bathroom, rubbing between his brows tiredly.

The sink water ran red for a moment as he washed blood from his knuckles and forearm. Not all of it was his.

Annoying.

He pulled a cigarette from the pack resting beside the sink, lit it with one flick of his lighter, and inhaled deeply. Smoke filled his lungs, easing some of the irritation buzzing beneath his skin.

Spy hunts usually amused him.

Tonight, though, his mind kept drifting somewhere else.

To you.

Lately you’d been acting strange. Nervous. Distracted. And the hints hadn’t exactly been subtle either.

Marriage jokes. Lingering conversations about Carlos becoming a father. The way you kept staring at him lately like you were trying to gather courage for something.

Suspicious.

Jian lifted his arm to inspect the cut again and clicked his tongue softly.

Too careless. Too distracted. Because of you.

He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling with a sigh just as the bathroom door suddenly opened.

You rushed past him straight to the toilet.

“Yo, love?” Jian immediately stubbed the cigarette out and stepped toward you, instinctively gathering your hair back so it wouldn’t fall into your face while you retched. His rough hand stayed surprisingly gentle against the back of your head. “You alright?”

Then you looked up at him. Panicked.

And suddenly everything clicked into place so fast it almost made him dizzy.

Afterward, once you’d brushed your teeth with trembling hands, Jian sat you carefully on the closed toilet lid before kneeling in front of you. The position felt strange for someone like him — a man people feared, crouched between your knees like he was handling something precious.

He was.

“Baby,” he said quietly, squeezing your hands between his larger ones. “Tell me.”

Your voice was quiet. And soon he heard it.

Pregnant.

Jian stared at you for a second too long. Not because he was angry, but because he was so shocked.

He was nearly thirty. Carlos already had a kid crawling around the house calling him papá. Still, the thought of him becoming a father felt unreal.

Funny, honestly.

His life kept copying Carlos’s like some cosmic joke.

Fall in love after him. Now parenthood too.

The silence stretched longer than he realized until something warm landed against the back of his hand.

A tear.

Jian blinked quickly and looked up.

“…Tángtáng?” His expression immediately softened with alarm as both hands flew to your face, cupping your cheeks carefully. “Are you crying?”

Oh, hell no.

You thought he was upset.

“I’m not mad, honey,” he said immediately, voice gentler than usual. “I’m just surprised, okay?”

His thumb brushed beneath your eye before he pulled you carefully into his arms, one hand cradling the back of your head against his shoulder.

“You scared yourself thinking I’d react badly, huh?” he murmured.

Then he leaned back just enough to look at you again.

“Do you want this baby?” The question came first. Before anything else. Jian’s entire face softened in a way only you ever got to see.

“Because if you do, I want it too,” he said without hesitation. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

He pressed a kiss against your forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“I’m happy,” he admitted quietly, almost sounding stunned by the realization himself. “Really.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you.”