Chapter 217: The Empty Room

*Runze’s POV*

The study feels strangely light after Grandmother and Mrs. Wen leave.

I save my open files, close the laptop, and just stare at it on the desk for a few seconds.

A nursery. Names. Clothes. Entire categories of basic preparation that neither of us had bothered to process.

Beside me, Bael picks up his tablet again. He doesn’t swipe. He doesn’t open a file. He just holds it, his jaw set in that quiet, immovable line.

Across the room, Ling Yue finally stops pretending to look out the window. His shoulders drop, and a genuine, uncontrolled laugh breaks out of him.

"You should have seen your faces," Ling Yue says, resting his chin in his palm as he looks at us. "I thought you two were about to pull out a spreadsheet to prove why a baby doesn’t need a room."

I pick up a plastic pen cap from my desk and toss it across the gap between us. Ling Yue catches it effortlessly between two fingers, his grin widening.

"We were being practical," I say, though even to my own ears, the defense sounds thin. "A newborn doesn’t need fifty square meters of space."

Ling Yue pushes himself up from the armchair with a soft sigh. "Whatever you say. I’m going back to my room. All this second-hand embarrassment is exhausting."

He gives us a brief wave and steps out, closing the study door quietly behind him.

The room settles back into a deep, uninterrupted quiet.

"Grandmother wasn’t entirely wrong," I admit, looking over at Bael. "We really haven’t planned a single thing."

Bael sets his tablet flat on the dark wood and leans back, his expression thoughtful. "We have about two months left. That is plenty of time, but we should settle on a room first."

I nod, standing up from my chair and smoothing down my shirt. "The second floor has a few empty rooms near ours. We can look at them today."

"Let’s go," Bael agrees, rising smoothly to join me.

We leave the study together, our footsteps soft against the runners as we walk down the quiet corridor. We take the grand staircase to the upper level, passing the furnished suites and the guest quarters we rarely visit.

Bael stops in front of a pair of double doors near the east bend, close enough to our master suite that a quiet call would carry down the hall, but far enough to remain private.

He turns the handle and pushes the doors inward.

The room is completely bare. No paintings, no furniture, no drapes at the tall windows. Just four walls, high ceilings, and warm afternoon light spilling across the empty floor.

I step over the threshold.

The windows face away from the direct glare, providing a soft, steady glow that doesn’t overheat the interior. The air circulation is quiet and continuous from the courtyard draft below.

I walk toward the center of the space, my shoes making a light sound against the floor.

"We’re going to need a list," I say softly, looking around the blank walls. "A very long list."

Bael steps inside, the heavy door closing behind him with a low click. "Mrs. Wen can help us draft the essential items."

"Hmn. We don’t know anything about the furniture," I continue, my eyes tracing the empty corners. "Or changing stations. Or whatever sterilization equipment she was talking about."

I turn around to face him. "Do you know what a sterilizer does?"

Bael pauses, his face entirely impassive. "It cleans."

"Specifically," I press, raising an eyebrow.

"It cleans equipment," he says, his voice flat, completely unbothered by his own lack of detail.

A faint, breathless laugh escapes me. "You don’t know."

"No," Bael says cleanly. "Do you?"

"No."

We stand there in the center of the bare room, two people who manage corporations and complex designs without flinching, completely stumped by basic baby appliances.

I turn back toward the windows, leaning against the wide sill to look out over the green expanse of the garden below.

The pregnancy has been real for months. The hospital visits were real. Feeling my bump grow firmer every week and the sudden, clear kicks against my ribs... all of that was real.

But standing in this quiet space, realizing an actual human being is going to sleep, cry, and grow up between these four walls... the weight of it suddenly catches in my chest.

Up until now, we’ve just been managing a pregnancy. Standing here, I realize we’re about to raise a child.

Warm hands slide around my waist from behind, pulling my back flush against his chest.

I rest my hands over his where they sit against my stomach, leaning back into his warmth.

Bael leans his head down, resting his chin lightly against my shoulder. His lips touch the side of my neck, a soft, lingering pressure, before moving up to the skin beneath my ear, then settling into the crook where my shoulder meets my neck.

He takes a deep, slow breath, filling his lungs, and lets it out in a long, quiet exhale against my skin.

I feel the tight edge in his posture ease, a silent wave of relief passing through him as he simply holds me in the empty room.

"Names," Bael speaks into my skin, his deep voice sending a quiet vibration through my shoulder.

I smile softly, tilting my head back against him. "Grandmother wants a list by Friday."

"We should start."

"Go ahead," I say softly. "You first."

"No."

"You must have thought of at least one," I tease quietly, turning my head just enough to catch the sharp line of his profile. "You’re the father."

"So are you," Bael replies smoothly, his hands resting gently over mine, holding me steady against him.

A quiet laugh escapes me into the quiet space. "We are completely unprepared."

"We’ll figure it out," Bael says against my neck.

I look back out the window at the sunlight fading over the courtyard, leaning fully into his warmth while the empty room waits around us.