CHAPTER 6

Atarah Klyte

"Hmmm... Rare."

I called his name softly, almost absentmindedly.

"Yes?" he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

Rare was standing in the kitchen, his sleeves slightly rolled up as he focused on cooking. The soft glow of the kitchen lights reflected on the stainless steel counter while the faint sound of oil sizzling filled the air.

Yes—he was cooking.

Fries, popcorn, tacos, hotdogs—practically a whole snack feast. Earlier we had decided to watch a movie marathon so the night wouldn't feel boring. It was still early anyway, and neither of us had plans to leave.

"I only have this big pink T-shirt," I said shyly, avoiding his gaze.

"If you want to change your clothes... you can use it. Your outfit looks uncomfortable."

My voice dropped toward the end of the sentence.

Damn.

Why was I suddenly embarrassed?

Rare chuckled quietly.

Without turning fully toward me, he stretched out his hand.

I was supposed to give him the shirt.

Instead, my eyes froze on his hand.

It was pale and smooth, the veins slightly visible beneath the skin. Long fingers. Clean nails. The kind of hands that looked both strong and careful—the hands of someone who saved lives.

"Is this yours?" he asked.

My gaze lifted from his hand to his face.

God.

Even in such simple lighting, his features looked unfairly perfect.

I nodded slowly.

"Cool," he said with a faint smirk. "Give it to me."

He took the shirt from my hands.

"You're really going to wear it?" I asked, a little surprised.

For some reason, I imagined how he'd look wearing that oversized pink shirt. Cute... but still dangerously attractive.

"Mm," he replied simply before turning back to the stove.

Since he was busy cooking, I started preparing the plates and bowls so at least I wouldn't feel useless.

For the next few minutes, I watched him work. And I'm not overacting but seriously he's so attractive! Why? I feel like I'm so into him?

It's been a while since I felt this. Like seriously attractive with someone.

Sometimes I stared at the food.

Sometimes I secretly stared at him.

Just quick glances.

My eyes were traitors.

I couldn't control them.

"Done," Rare announced.

He placed the cooked tacos, fries, popcorn, and hotdogs neatly onto the plates.

My stomach growled. He just chuckled. " Baby is hungry.."

Huh? Baby? Me or the baby inside my tummy?

We carried the plates to the living room together and placed everything on the glass table.

After a quick discussion, we decided to watch a science fiction movie

I leaned back comfortably against the sofa.

Rare sat down as well—but there was a noticeable space between us. He occupied the right side while I stayed on the far left.

"Hey," he suddenly said.

I looked at him.

"Come closer. You'll have trouble reaching the food."

His sleepy eyes studied me lazily.

He had a point.

"Oh... yeah."

I scooted a little closer.

But before I could settle, Rare moved beside me and adjusted the glass table, sliding it closer so the snacks were within easy reach.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded and grabbed a few fries.

"Do you want some beer?" I offered.

Rare immediately shook his head and raised one eyebrow.

"It's cold tonight," he said calmly. "People shouldn't drink alcohol when the weather's like this."

Then his gaze locked onto mine.

"Especially when you're with me."

My cheeks burned instantly.

Sheesh. I knew he meant something by that. I want to do it again! But I'm scared..and I don't want him to think that I'm so sucker for him.

"A-ah... okay," I stammered awkwardly.

Wrong move, self.

I quickly focused on the movie to avoid embarrassing myself further.

The movie lasted about an hour and a half

Most of the time we stayed quiet, occasionally exchanging small comments about the scenes, our work, or random topics.

We weren't exactly close.

"I'll sleep here," Rare suddenly said, pointing at the sofa.

I looked at him.

His eyes looked heavy with sleep.

Damn.

Why did he look so attractive even when he was tired?

Stop it, self. You're acting desperate.

"Won't you be uncomfortable?" I asked.

After all, he was a famous doctor. Letting someone like him sleep on my sofa felt strange.

"Nah," he replied with a yawn. "It's fine."

"You can sleep in my room if you want," I offered hesitantly. "I can just lay something on the floor."

Please refuse, I silently prayed.

Rare shook his head.

"It's okay. I know you wouldn't feel comfortable if I slept there," he said. "You also have work tomorrow. You might lose sleep."

He was right.

Still...

How could he sleep comfortably on a sofa?

"Just knock on my door if you need anything," I said.

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Thanks."

"I'll get you pillows and a comforter."

I walked to my bedroom and grabbed a large comforter along with several pillows.

Unfortunately, the comforter was huge.

Combined with the pillows, I could barely see where I was going.

"F-ck," Rare muttered suddenly.

Before I could react, he took everything from my arms.

He placed them neatly on the sofa before turning to face me.

"Next time," he said firmly, "don't carry heavy things like that."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And why not?" I challenged. "I'm not pregnant yet."

Rare didn't answer.

Instead, he moved his jaw slightly and bit his lower lip.

Hey.

Was he trying to seduce me or something?

"Whatever," I said quickly. "I'm going to sleep. Just knock if you need anything."

Without waiting for a response, I retreated to my bedroom.

THE NEXT Morning. I woke up suddenly. My stomach twisted violently. Before I could even think properly, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up.

When it was over, I leaned against the sink, breathing heavily.

My body felt strangely sluggish.

I placed a hand on my stomach and sighed.

Could it be...

Morning sickness?

Oh my God.

Am I pregnant?

Excitement fluttered inside my chest. Maybe something had already started.  I need to buy a pregnancy test later to confirm.

After fixing myself, I walked toward the living room to check on Rare.

But when I arrived—

He was gone.

The pillows and comforter he used were neatly arranged.

No sign of him anywhere.

Curious, I went to the kitchen.

That was when I noticed the food.

A simple breakfast sat on the table: veggie salad and brown bread.

A sticky note was attached.

I picked it up and read.

"I didn't wake you because you looked tired.

I prepared breakfast for you. Eat well. :) "

"Wow," I muttered sarcastically.

How sweet.

It was already 7:00 AM, and my duty started at 7:30. But I didn't feel like going to work. My head hurt and I felt dizzy.

So I called Nurse Mae, our head nurse.

"Nurse Mae, I can't come today. I'm sick. Please tell Ma'am Eazel."

She offered to check on me, but I lied and said our family doctor would handle it.

After hanging up, I went downstairs and ate the breakfast Rare prepared. It was delicious. I even finished everything and still wanted more.

This must be a sign. Maybe I really am pregnant. Omg! I'm so happy!

After washing the dishes, I grabbed some fresh milk and lay on the sofa. Then I noticed missed calls and texts from my mom

She was worried and even wanted to send our family doctor because I told her that I'm sick.

I simply replied. "No thanks, Mom. I'm fine."

Soon I fell asleep again.

EVENING came, The sound of the doorbell woke me from the sofa.

When I looked at the clock, my eyes widened.

7:30 PM.

"What the heck...?"

I had slept the entire day.

Was this what pregnancy felt like?

I rubbed my stomach gently.

"Sorry, baby," I murmured with a pout. "Mommy accidentally starved you."

Then I walked toward the door.

When I opened it— Rare stood there.

He looked tired, his hair slightly messy.

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

"Visiting you," he said calmly.

"Why?"

"Because I heard you were sick."

He stepped closer. My heart began pounding.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously as I stepped backward.

Rare placed a hand lightly against my neck.

"You don't have a fever. What hurts?" Rare's voice was calm but firm, the kind of tone only a doctor could naturally use.

"H-headache... and body ache," I stammered, still holding the paper bag he'd brought.

He stepped closer, his eyes scanning me like he was taking notes in his mind. "Sit down. Let me check you properly."

"W-what?!" I flinched. "I'm fine, I told you—"

"No," he interrupted gently but firmly. "You're not fine. You can't just ignore it. Come on, Atarah."

Reluctantly, I sank onto the sofa. Rare crouched slightly in front of me, his fingers brushing my forehead. "Skin's warm, pulse is slightly elevated. Nothing serious yet, but you shouldn't ignore it."

He tilted my head carefully, examining my eyes. "Pupils reactive to light. No dizziness reported yet?"

"A little... but I'm fine," I muttered, embarrassed.

"Mm," he hummed, then carefully pressed his fingers along my shoulders, feeling for tension and tenderness. "Muscle aches are mild, nothing alarming. But your posture is stiff... probably from sleeping too long on the sofa."

I swallowed hard, flustered.

Even as he inspected me, his touch was gentle but precise—his professionalism blending with that undeniable closeness I couldn't ignore.

"Now, open your mouth. Say 'ah.'"

I blinked. "W-what?!"

"Trust me," he said with a faint smirk. "I just need to check your throat. Doctor mode, okay?"

Reluctantly, I opened my mouth. He leaned closer, careful not to touch my lips with his instruments. "Throat's slightly red, but no infection. Hydration and rest should fix it. I'll give you some meds to ease the body ache and headache, and some fruits to boost your immunity."

He placed the paper bag back in my lap. "Take this. Eat slowly, drink water. No excuses."

I looked at him, half annoyed, half... something else entirely. "Why are you doing all this? You don't have to check me like a patient."

"Because I was with you last night," he said quietly, his eyes locking onto mine. "I can't just watch you struggle and not do anything. I don't want to feel guilty if something happens."

I sighed, flustered. His calm, professional attention made me feel simultaneously cared for and completely exposed. I wanted to argue, but my words faltered under the weight of his gaze.

Rare reached over, lightly placing a hand on my shoulder. "Rest. Eat. Let me handle this. That's an order."

I huffed, feeling both annoyed and helpless. "Fine... but only because you're a doctor," I muttered.

He smiled faintly, that unreadable Rare-smirk that somehow made my heart skip a beat

"You should rest in your room," he said softly. I nodded, automatically clutching my stomach

as if I were soothing it, and I noticed the way his eyes flickered toward my hands.

Then, without warning, he blurted, "You need to take a pregnancy test."

I froze, my temper flaring instantly. "What? Why on earth would I—"

"To check?"

"Huh? For what? I mean if I'm pregnant why do you care?l

He interrupted sharply. "Because I think I have the right to know. That baby—if it's mine too, I deserve to know. I bet you remember what happened between us?"

I glared at him. "No! My child will only be mine! I bet you remember too that I only need your sperm not your support."

The air between us felt electric, a mixture of anger, fear, and something neither of us could fully control.

I ran to my room. This is exactly what I've been afraid of! That's why I need to stay away from him—he might go after the baby! No way. That child is mine alone.

I waited for him, expecting him to come after me, but he didn't. My heart raced, and I couldn't stay still—I refused to step outside.

My phone was left back in the living room, and all I could think about was checking the CCTV to see if he was still around.

Hours passed—two, maybe more—but not a sound, not a sign of him. Finally, I gathered the courage to step out. The house felt empty, no trace of Rare anywhere... until I reached the balcony. And there he was, standing there like he owned the night.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, trying to steady my voice.

He looked at me, cold and unreadable.

"You know what?" My voice was sharp, almost bitter. "If you're going to chase my child, you have no right. There've been plenty of men in my life before... not just you. So don't assume you're the father of my child!" I lied without hesitation.

"I'm... sorry."

"For what?" I pressed, frowning.

He inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself. "I used a condom."

The words hit me like ice water. My body froze, my breath caught in my throat. "Please, change your pajamas.."

My eyes widened in sudden realization as the meaning behind his words finally sank in. Without wasting another second, I hurried over to the mirror, my heart pounding with a mix of confusion and urgency. The moment my eyes landed on the faint blood stain, everything became clear.

Panic washed over me as I came to understand what was really happening—I was simply on my period, which explained the discomfort and uneasiness I had been feeling all along. It wasn't anything more serious, and certainly not what he had implied. I'm not pregnant.

I stormed back toward him, anger written all over my face. I really thought I was going to be pregnant. I was so drunk that I didn't even notice he had used a

"What...? Why?" My voice shook.

"You said you wanted to get pregnant," he continued quietly, almost reluctantly. "But I couldn't take the risk."

Rage and heartbreak erupted inside me, fierce and raw.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" I cried, tears spilling down my face.

"I thought... I thought I'd finally have someone who would love me," I whispered, my own voice breaking.

Tears blurred my vision. "I thought... I'd finally become a mother."

Rare said nothing in reply. Instead, he stepped closer, enveloping me in his arms.

"Shh..." he murmured, his chest firm against mine.

"This isn't the right time, baby."

And there, pressed against him, I let myself cry heart shattered, hopes trembling, yet strangely safe in his embrace.