All Chapters of His accidental surrogate : Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

Kyra’s pov- There was something strangely freeing about peeing in a cup at 8:47 a.m. on a Monday morning. No work emails. No forced small talk. Just me, the white walls of the fertility clinic, and the quiet, stubborn hope that my life might finally begin. I set the plastic cup on the counter with slightly trembling fingers, then glanced up at the mirror above the sink. Tired eyes stared back at me. My lips were still a little swollen from crying the night before. But beneath all of that, there was something steadier in my reflection. Determination. At twenty-seven, I had finally stopped waiting for Mr. Right. That man clearly missed the memo that he was supposed to show up in my life. Prince Charming had ghosted me somewhere around my third situationship, and honestly? I was tired of pretending the fairy tale was still loading. I was done waiting. "Kyra Taylor?" A nurse leaned into the waiting room just as I stepped out of the restroom. She had soft brown eyes

Kyra’s pov- The clinic felt different this time. Too quiet. Too still. The air conditioning was the same, that faint lemon-cleaner smell was the same, but it all sat wrong on my skin. Like walking into your own apartment and finding one picture frame tilted. Nothing you can prove, but your body knows. I walked in at 2:59 p.m. sharp, her hair pulled into a high bun, lips glossed but nerves unmasked. My hands were steady. I’d made sure of it. Checked them twice at the red light. But my pulse was doing something stupid in my throat, and no amount of Fenty gloss was going to cover the way my eyes kept darting around like I was about to get jumped. I’d tried to calm myself on the drive over windows down, music up but that feeling in her chest refused to go away. Jhené Aiko wasn’t working. Neither was the 80-degree breeze. It just whipped my edges around and made me feel more exposed. Like the universe had peeled me open before I even parked. Something wasn’t

Kyra’s pov- My small apartment was both my sanctuary and my office. Working as a virtual assistant gave me freedom, but the hours were long and the pay tight. Today, like every day for the past two weeks, my laptop sat open on the dining table, notifications buzzing as I managed schedules and emails for clients scattered across time zones. My fingers moved quickly, but my mind was tangled in a different kind of work, the endless mental checklist of the unknown. Every slight ache, every mood swing was magnified. Was this the sign? The calendar on my wall was marked in red, counting down to the day I could take the pregnancy test. I avoided looking at the date too often, afraid of the anxiety that followed. Sometimes I allowed myself to daydream, a tiny baby with my eyes, my laugh, maybe even Zaire's strong jawline. But those moments were fleeting, chased away by the cold weight of reality. I was alone in this. At night, I curled into my worn-out couch, scrolling throug

Zaire’s pov- By the time the elevator chimed, I was out of the tub and wrapped in a dark gray towel, steam still rising behind me. I padded across the penthouse with slow, measured steps, my phone left behind on the marble bath tray. I opened the door just before Savannah knocked. She walked in like she always did, heels clicking against polished floors, long legs wrapped in a champagne colored trench, lips glossed, skin glowing. Her hair was bone straight tonight, falling over one shoulder. A red designer clutch swung from her hand. "You're always so dramatic with the lighting," she said with a smile, glancing around. "It's giving mood." I didn't say much. Just stepped aside and let her pass. Savannah paused to set her purse down and then turned to face me, her eyes sliding over my towel covered body. "You're quiet." I moved toward the mini bar without responding, pouring myself another bourbon. "You want anything?" I asked. "Yeah, I'll take the usual," she said, sl

Kyra** The automatic doors of the clinic slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in warm air and the faint sound of city traffic. I stepped out first, arms crossed, sunglasses low on my nose, my purse clutched a little too tightly. Zaire followed behind, his long strides relaxed but his mind wasn't. We walked in silence toward the parking lot. Both unsure of what to say now that the news had been spoken aloud. I was pregnant. He was the father. And neither of us knew the first damn thing about each other. I stopped at my car, digging for my keys, but my fingers were shaky. Zaire noticed. "You alright?" "I'm fine," I said too fast. He didn't call me on it. Just leaned against the passenger side of my car, watching me with unreadable eyes. "You want me to drive you home?" he asked, low. I scoffed. "No offense, but I still don't know you well enough to let you behind my wheel." Zaire cracked a small smirk. "Fair." I finally looked up at him, crossing my arms