Chapter 220: Becoming Real

*Runze’s POV*

The second time I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.

I don’t open my eyes immediately. The blankets are still warm, retaining the quiet heat of the room, and the dull, persistent ache that dragged me out of sleep earlier has faded into a quiet, distant pressure.

I crack one eye open. The soft morning light that filtered through the curtains hours ago has shifted into the sharp, unyielding clarity of midday. I must have slept for another two hours at least.

The thought of getting out of bed right now feels deeply offensive.

Unfortunately, my entire body agrees as I try to push myself upright. Pregnancy exhaustion is unlike any normal fatigue I’ve ever known. It isn’t just sleepiness—it’s heavy, bone-deep drag, as if someone quietly replaced my skeleton with lead while I wasn’t paying attention.

I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress and pause, waiting for the slight dizziness to pass. My joints feel stiff, and my feet are slightly swollen as I slide them into my slippers.

I pull on my robe, tie the sash loosely over the curve of my stomach, and head down the hallway toward the stairs. I fully expect to hear Bael’s voice from his study, sharp and commanding as he manages some corporate crisis while keeping an eye on the house.

I make it to the ground floor before I realize he never let the morning’s issue go in the first place.

Standing beside the kitchen island, calmly discussing a medical file with Dr. Xi, is my husband.

I stop dead in my tracks at the bottom of the stairs. Slowly, very slowly, Bael turns his head toward me. His dark eyes scan me from head to toe in a single second—measuring my posture, my breathing, and the color in my face.

"Good morning," Bael says, crossing the space between the kitchen island and the bottom of the stairs. Before I can even step off the bottom riser, his hand is on my waist, his thumb lightly tracing my side. "How is your stomach?"

I look at Dr. Xi, whose medical bag is sitting open on the counter, then back at Bael.

I let out a slow breath. "A house call?"

Dr. Xi offers a polite smile. "A quick routine check, Mr. Runze. Just to be safe."

"He didn’t need to drag you out here," I say softly, leaning into Bael’s touch despite myself. I know him far too well by now. When he decides to worry, nothing short of absolute certainty will settle him.

"You were shifting uncomfortably all morning," Bael says, his gaze fixed on my face as his palm settles over my hip. "You were frowning in your sleep, and your face was pale when you woke up earlier."

"It was just a mild ache," I remind him gently. "It passed."

"Uncertainty is unacceptable," Bael replies, looking down at me with stoic immovability.

I look at the rigid set of his shoulders and the faint, lingering tension in his jaw. I shake my head, a small, helpless smile tugging at my lips. "This is why your staff thinks you are terrifying."

He doesn’t even bother looking guilty. "I am thorough."

Dr. Xi gestures kindly toward the living room sofa. "Since I am already here, Mr. Runze, let us do a quick assessment for peace of mind. It won’t take long."

Twenty minutes later, I find myself sitting on the living room sofa while Dr. Xi checks my blood pressure and listens to my chest.

"Everything is within normal parameters," Dr. Xi reassures us as he rolls up his cuff. "At seven months, abdominal pressure, fatigue, and dull aches are very common. The ligaments are stretching, and the baby is growing rapidly. There are zero signs of complications."

I look up at Bael with a small, triumphant smile. "See? I told you."

Bael completely ignores my victory, looking directly at Dr. Xi over my head. "What about the swelling in his ankles?"

"Normal for this stage," Dr. Xi answers patiently. "Elevation helps."

"Is there a specific angle?" Bael asks, his tone entirely serious. "How many inches should his feet be raised?"

"Bael," I interrupt, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It’s ankles, not geometry."

"A slight elevation with a pillow or footstool is sufficient," Dr. Xi says, a faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. "...Fifteen to twenty degrees."

"And the fatigue?" Bael presses on, ignoring my glare entirely. "He slept for ten hours last night and another three hours this morning."

"His body is building a human being, Mr. Bael," Dr. Xi explains calmly. "It requires an immense amount of energy. Increased sleep is expected."

I close my eyes as Bael asks three more ridiculously specific questions about dietary supplements, movement restrictions, and room temperature, taking mental notes as if Dr. Xi is handing down crucial state directives.

Finally, Dr. Xi reaches into his bag and pulls out a portable Doppler monitor. "Let me take a quick listen to the baby before I head out."

I loosen the sash of my robe and roll up my sleepwear top. I flinch as the cold gel hits my skin, but Bael’s hand instantly rests on my shoulder—steady and warm. Dr. Xi moves the probe across my stomach until soft static fills the room.

Then, the rhythm changes.

*Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.*

Fast. Clear. Strong.

We’ve heard the heartbeat before at every check-up. Nothing about the sound itself is new or unexpected.

And yet, I watch the change happen in real time. The sharp, guarded line between Bael’s brows softens. His shoulders drop half an inch, and his fingers—which have been clenched tightly against his thigh for the last twenty minutes—finally relax.

His hand slides down my arm, resting lightly over mine on the sofa cushion. He doesn’t say a word. He just sits there, completely transfixed by the steady, rapid pulse echoing through the lounge.

"Strong and regular," Dr. Xi says warmly, wiping the gel away with a tissue. "Everything is perfectly fine. Just take it easy today."

"Thank you, Doctor Xi," I say softly.

After walking Dr. Xi to the door, Bael returns to the lounge, the worried atmosphere around him completely dissolved.

"Satisfied?" I tease as he approaches the couch.

"Now it is verified," he replies deadpan. He extends a hand to pull me smoothly up from the sofa. "Go change your clothes. We are leaving."

I pause, looking at him suspiciously. "Leaving for where?"

"You’ll see."

***

An hour later, I’m standing inside a high-end children’s boutique in the city’s quietest shopping district... a store I didn’t even know existed until our car pulled up to the marble storefront.

The carpet inside is thick and plush, the air smells faintly of cedar and pristine cotton, and every display is filled with items so impossibly tiny they barely seem real.

Bael walks half a step behind me, his hand resting against the small of my back as I wander down one of the quiet aisles. I stop in front of a small table and pick up a pair of cream-colored knitted booties. They rest in the center of my palm, lightweight and ridiculously small.

They’re absurd. There’s no way human feet are actually that small.

"Sir?" A sales associate in a tailored suit steps up with a warm, professional smile. "Can I help you with anything?"

I glance down at the booties resting in my palm, then up at her. "My child is supposed to fit into these?"

"They look tiny, don’t they?" she says kindly. "They’re designed for newborn sizes. Are you preparing for a young master or a young lady? I can show you our new arrivals."

I hesitate, glancing at Bael beside me.

Bael looks down at the tiny shoes in my palm, then scans the long rows of carefully curated clothing hanging along the walls.

With all the calm practicality of a man who has decided hesitation is completely unacceptable, he looks the associate dead in the eye.

"Pack everything," Bael says.

The woman blinks, caught off guard. "Pardon me, sir?"

"The entire newborn collection," Bael repeats, his voice flat and serious. "Prepare every item in the newborn size. Boy, girl, and neutral. Pack them all."

The woman’s eyes widen slightly before she quickly recovers her composure. "Every single item? Sir, that includes hundreds of pieces... complete outfits, outerwear, bedding, and accessories across all three color sets—"

"I am aware," Bael cuts in smoothly. He pulls a black card from his wallet and hands it over without a second thought. "Arrange delivery directly to our estate by this evening. My assistant will oversee the drop-off."

I stand there holding the tiny bootie, staring at Bael in absolute disbelief.

"Bael," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. "Are you serious? Buying out the entire store?"

"It is efficiency," Bael replies calmly, looking at me as if this is the most logical decision he has ever made in his life. "We are preparing for both possibilities, as Grandmother instructed. And newborns require frequent changes."

"Frequent changes don’t mean hundreds of outfits!" I say, feeling my lips twitch despite my best efforts to stay stern. "You bought an entire inventory because you refused to pick a few options!"

"I bought full coverage," Bael corrects deadpan. "Uncertainty is inefficient."

I look at his unbothered expression, then back at the associate frantically keying in the massive order at the register.

A laugh slips out before I can stop it.

I press my hand over my face, my chest shaking as I laugh until my eyes water right there in the middle of the quiet, ultra-luxurious boutique. Bael watches me, a subtle, almost imperceptible softening touching the corners of his dark eyes as he reaches out to steady me by my elbow.

Standing in this quiet store, surrounded by impossibly small clothes and a husband who casually bought an entire newborn inventory to handle a family tradition, the lingering fear from last night completely disappears.

The empty nursery won’t stay empty for long.

Because somewhere between a room full of unanswered questions and a tiny pair of shoes resting in my palm, preparation stops feeling frightening.

It starts feeling real.