*Bael's POV*
Runze was asleep.
His breathing had settled into a slow, even rhythm. One hand rested protectively over the rounded curve beneath the blanket, the soft shape an unmistakable reminder of the life growing inside him.
Bael sat quietly beside the bed.
Over the past week, he had learned how to exist without making a sound, how to answer urgent calls out in the corridor, how to return before his husband's eyes opened, how to keep his face completely calm, as though nothing outside these four walls demanded his attention.
His gaze drifted to the bedside table.
The black sketchbook Ling Yue had brought rested there, untouched and blank. Bael looked at it for several seconds, a quiet frustration settling in his chest.
He should have thought of it first.
