It isn’t until we’re already in the car that I realize I made a mistake.

A stupid one.

The realization settles slowly somewhere between the estate gates and the main road, while the city moves past outside the window in blurred gray afternoon light and Liang Feng drives with the same steady silence he always does.

Beside me, Bael is answering emails on his phone. Completely normal, completely calm.

And somehow that’s exactly what finally makes everything click properly in my head.

Because when has Bael ever actually treated me badly?

Even before the kiss, even before the gala, even before any of this strange shift between us started happening.

Bael has always taken care of things, always noticed things, always paid attention in his own way.

The problem was never that he didn’t care at all, the problem was that I kept mistaking what kind of care it was.

My chest tightens unpleasantly at the thought.

Yesterday, after the conversation in the hallway, after the breakfast this morning, after him staying home and noticing every small thing about me again, somewhere along the line I started relaxing around him without realizing it.

Again.

Like I learned absolutely nothing all this time. I stare at the side of Bael’s face, at the calm expression, at the phone in his hand, at the familiar steadiness of him sitting beside me like this.

And suddenly all I can think is that this is exactly how I ended up hurting myself before too.

Not because Bael lied to me, not because he promised something he couldn’t give.

But because I kept filling in spaces he never actually filled himself. Because being cared for by Bael feels dangerously similar to being wanted by him if I let myself stop thinking clearly for too long.

And that is entirely my own fault.

Beside me, Bael finally looks up from his phone.

"You’ve been staring at me for several minutes."

I blink once.

Apparently I have.

"I wasn’t aware there was a time limit," I say flatly.

His eyes stay on me for another second.

Something about his expression shifts slightly, subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t notice it.

"You’re angry again."

Again.

The word irritates me immediately.

Like my emotions are becoming predictable enough for him to categorize.

I look away toward the window instead.

"I’m thinking."

"Those are usually connected."

I don’t answer.

The silence stretches afterward, heavier than before.

Normally Bael lets silence sit without trying to fix it, but lately he keeps pushing against it whenever it forms between us too long.

I notice it now, probably because I’m actively looking for distance again.

"You were fine before we left," he says eventually.

There’s no accusation in it, just observation. That somehow makes it worse.

I keep my eyes on the passing buildings outside.

"I’m still fine."

"That isn’t what I meant."

Of course it isn’t.

I can practically hear the direction the conversation wants to go already and I immediately feel tired.

Because this is exactly the problem.

The more attention Bael gives me lately, the easier it becomes to slip back into treating him like someone emotionally safe to lean toward.

And he isn’t.

Not in the way I want him to be, maybe not ever.

"You don’t have to keep monitoring my mood," I say finally.

Beside me, Bael goes quiet.

Then, "I wasn’t aware I was monitoring it."

That almost makes me laugh, not because it’s funny, mostly because it’s such a genuinely Bael answer that it circles all the way back around into being absurd.

I look at him finally.

"You really don’t hear yourself sometimes."

His brows pull together slightly.

Before he can answer, I look away again.

Because continuing the conversation feels dangerous suddenly.

Not dangerous in a dramatic way.

Just emotionally dangerous in the quiet exhausting way that keeps happening lately whenever I talk to him too long.

So I stop.

And after a while, Bael stops trying too.

The rest of the drive passes mostly in silence.

***

The private hospital is quieter than usual when we arrive.

Weekend hours, less foot traffic, staff greet us immediately the second we enter anyway.

I stay half a step behind Bael while we walk through the lobby, hands in my coat pockets, already regretting agreeing to come at all.

Not because I think something is wrong, but because being here with Bael feels strangely domestic in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.

Like this is normal, like we’re normal.

The thought makes me uncomfortable enough that by the time we reach the elevator, I’ve already rebuilt half the emotional distance I stupidly lowered this morning.

Bael notices.

Of course he notices.

The elevator doors close quietly around us.

"You’ve barely looked at me since we left the house."

I stare at the changing floor numbers instead.

"You’re imagining things."

"I’m not."

The response comes too calmly, too certainly, like he already knows.

I exhale slowly through my nose.

Then before I can stop myself, I say, "Then maybe think about ’why’ yourself for once."

The silence afterward changes instantly.

I feel it immediately.

Beside me, Bael goes completely still. Not angry, just suddenly very focused.

Which means I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I’m already too irritated with myself to take it back now.

The elevator opens before either of us says anything else.

Good.

Dr. Xi is already waiting when we enter the consultation room.

"Mr. Runze," he greets politely before nodding toward me. "You look exhausted."

"Thank you," I say dryly.

To his credit, Dr. Xi only looks faintly amused.

"The gala?"

"Unfortunately."

Bael sits beside me while Dr. Xi reviews the updated charts on his tablet.

"How has the nausea been recently?"

"Better."

"Sleeping?"

I hesitate briefly.

"Not consistently."

Dr. Xi hums once, making a note.

"Pain?"

"My lower back mostly."

Beside me, I can practically feel Bael paying attention harder.

Traitorous body.

Traitorous doctor.

Dr. Xi asks a few more routine questions before moving into the examination itself, and thankfully that part requires enough actual focus that my brain quiets down for a while.

The baby is fine, healthy heartbeat, normal development, everything progressing correctly.

I didn’t realize how tightly wound my chest was until some of the tension finally eases hearing it out loud.

Beside me, Bael’s shoulders loosen slightly too.

Small.

Almost invisible.

But I notice it anyway.

Which annoys me for entirely different reasons now.

Dr. Xi finishes reviewing the scan results before removing his gloves.

"Overall everything looks stable," he says. "The back pain isn’t unusual at this stage, especially with stress and fatigue contributing to muscle tension."

His eyes shift toward Bael naturally afterward.

"Occasional massage should help reduce some of the pressure for now."

I immediately look away before my expression can betray anything.

Absolutely not.

There is genuinely no universe where I’m voluntarily allowing Bael to put his hands on me like that right now.

None.

Because that would be a terrible idea.

An unbelievably terrible idea.

Especially after the kiss.

Especially after the way my guard already slipped this morning from something as stupid as breakfast and quiet attention.

I can already imagine exactly how much worse it would get if I let him touch me like that casually inside our house while I’m already struggling to think clearly around him.

So nope.

Beside me, Bael says, "Understood."

And something about his tone makes me look at him automatically.

Mistake.

There’s the faintest hint of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Not enough for Dr. Xi to notice.

Enough for me to.

Like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I look away immediately.

Annoyingly warm suddenly.

Dr. Xi continues speaking, thankfully unaware of the entire internal disaster currently happening beside him.

"Warm compresses will help too. And less physical strain when possible."

"He works too much," Bael says calmly.

I turn toward him instantly.

"You’re one to talk."

"I’m not pregnant."

Dr. Xi clears his throat once very professionally, which somehow makes the entire conversation worse.

I refuse to look at either of them for a second.

"This is deeply humiliating," I mutter.

To my horror, Dr. Xi actually laughs quietly.

"You’d be surprised how often this happens."

That does not help me emotionally at all.

Beside me, Bael looks entirely unbothered now.

Actually, worse than unbothered.

Comfortable.

Like he’s settling naturally into this version of things already.

And the terrifying part is how easy it would be to let him.

That realization unsettles me more than anything else the entire afternoon.

Because the distance I built between us took weeks.

And somehow Bael has already started wearing holes through it again just by paying attention differently.

Not even intentionally.

That’s the dangerous part.

By the time we leave the hospital, my back still hurts slightly, my emotions are worse, and I’m becoming increasingly certain that the real problem here is not Bael.

It’s me.

Because despite everything, despite knowing better now, despite understanding exactly how this ends if I let myself start hoping for things again...

Part of me still wants to lean toward him anyway.