Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant By My Ex's Brother : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

I let him in because the alternative was him standing in that hallway until one of my neighbors filmed it.Damien closed the door behind him with quiet finality. The apartment immediately felt smaller. He didn’t walk through it like a guest. He stood there and took me in properly; messy hair, washed-out face, the fact that I was still holding the wall like the floor might move.“You turned your phone off,” he said.“I was sleeping.”“No. You were hiding.”I hated that he was right. I went to the couch and sat before my legs made the decision for me. Damien followed, but he didn’t sit beside me. He crouched in front of me again, the same way he had in his office, like my body was a problem that required eye level.Up close, he looked tired. Not soft. Tired in the way sharp things got when they had been held too tight for too long.“Have you eaten?” he asked.“Yes.”“Real food.”“Define real.”His mouth tightened. He got up, went to my kitchen without asking, and opened the fridge. The

I woke up to the kind of quiet that made me think he’d left.For a second I stayed still under the blanket, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar weight of an empty apartment to settle back onto my chest. My body felt heavy in that post-sick way, but clearer than yesterday. No sharp nausea. Just a dull reminder that nothing in my life was simple anymore.I turned my head.The other side of the couch cushions was dented. A glass of water sat on the table with a coaster underneath it, which was already more consideration than most men I’d known had ever shown a piece of furniture. His jacket was gone from the chair.Of course he left.I sat up slowly, pushing my hair out of my face, and told myself the soft ache in my chest was relief.Then I heard a sound from the kitchen.A pan. Low movement. The soft thud of a cabinet closing like someone was trying not to wake the whole building.I froze.Another sound. A knife against a board.I got up barefoot, heart already doing somet

The place he took me wasn’t loud.A stretch of waterfront path behind a row of old stone buildings, the kind of quiet money liked to keep for itself. Water on one side. Trees cut into neat shapes on the other. A few people walking dogs. A woman in cream linen reading on a bench. No office glass. No lobby stares. Just pale sun and the smell of wet leaves.I got out of the car and felt my shoulders drop an inch without permission.Damien came around to my side and closed the door. He started walking close enough that our hands brushed once, then again, until my fingers caught his without either of us making a speech about it.“This is your idea of cooling off?” I asked.“You’re outside. You’re upright. You’re not surrounded by people who want a story.” He glanced at me. “It’s a start.”“Very humble location for a man with a private elevator.”“I contain multitudes.”I snorted. “No, you don’t.”His mouth tipped. “Fine. I contain specificities.”We walked. Every so often his thumb moved

Marcus pushed off the car like the waterfront was his private theater.Same smile he wore when he thought he already owned the ending. The wind caught his open collar. He looked from me to Damien and back again, slow and delighted, and I felt every soft part of the morning curdle at once.“Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “The part where she screamed he’s with me across the path? Cinema. The part where Claire laughed at her? Even better. And you…” he pointed at Damien with two lazy fingers “.... you did the whole dark-hero jaw thing. Father would hate how obvious you’ve become.”Damien didn’t raise his voice.He simply stepped forward, placing himself half a fraction in front of me. The shift was small. It changed the whole street.“You’re following her now,” Damien said.Marcus shrugged. “I’m following a public circus. You’re the ones selling tickets.” His eyes landed on me and stayed, hotter, hungrier, stripped of the lobby performance. “You look tired, Ellie. Is he keeping you u

The car stayed too quiet on the way back.Damien drove like a man holding a question between his teeth. I kept my face turned toward the window and counted breaths the way you count steps in the dark. Every time the city light slid over the dashboard, I felt the word Marcus had thrown sitting between us, unburied.Pregnant.Damien had not said it again. He didn’t need to. Suspicion had a temperature, and the whole car was full of it.When he parked outside my building, I had my seatbelt off before the engine died.“Elena.”“I’m going up alone.”He turned in his seat. “No.”“Yes.” My hand was already on the door. “Thank you for the ride. Thank you for getting me away from Marcus. I need the rest of the night without anyone watching my face for answers.”He caught my wrist before I could fully step out. Not rough. Firm enough to stop me. The contact shot up my arm and made my throat tighten.“Talk to me,” he said. “Something is wrong. It’s been wrong for days. If it’s stress, fine. If