Every laugh, every small moment of happiness—each one twisted something deep inside his chest instead of soothing it.
And the more perfect it looked, the more it felt like a cruel illusion crafted just for him.
Like a prisoner—
being granted one final, beautiful wish before everything was taken away.
***
On the other side of the world, Vincent exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him a little too heavy, a little too unsteady as his eyes lingered on the medical report in his hand.
Soren's name sat there, printed neatly as the patient.
It shouldn't have meant anything.
And yet—
"So," Vincent spoke at last, his voice low as he turned his head slightly toward the guard standing rigidly before him, "what did the doctor recommend?"
"The doctor advised another week of observation," the guard replied without hesitation, his tone formal. "They need more time to determine whether the pregnancy could become life-threatening for Mr. Soren in the long term."
A pause.
