[BL] Oops! I Seduced My Sister's Fiance (And Now I'm Pregnant) Chapter 119: Undoing

I wake up exhausted.

Not because of the pregnancy this ti, although that certainly isn’t helping. My back still aches faintly when I shift too quickly and my body feels heavy in that unfamiliar way I’ve slowly been adjusting to over the past few months, but the deeper exhaustion sitting underneath everything else has nothing to do with physical discomfort.

It’s emotional.

The kind that settles quietly into your chest after spending hours trying not to think about sothing and failing repeatedly anyway.

For several long seconds after opening my eyes, I just lie there staring blankly at the ceiling.

Then mory catches up imdiately.

*Co back to our room tonight.*

My throat tightens before I can stop it. I close my eyes again with a quiet exhale, one arm falling across them automatically.

This is exactly why I pulled away.

Because even after everything, even after standing there last night practically reminding Bael that this marriage started as obligation and practicality and absolutely nothing else, part of still wanted to go with him anyway.

That is the dangerous part.

Not the kiss, not the touching.

The fact that sowhere along the way, Bael stopped feeling emotionally safe to love from a distance.

Now every small mont between us sinks too deep before I can stop it.

I force myself upright slowly before my thoughts can spiral further.

The estate is still mostly quiet at this hour. Sowhere downstairs I can hear faint movent from the kitchen staff beginning breakfast preparations, distant enough to blend softly into the silence surrounding the room.

Normally mornings here feel peaceful.

Lately they mostly feel dangerous. Because mornings are dostic in a way evenings aren’t.

Soft lighting, shared breakfasts, casual conversations spoken half-awake over tea and coffee.

And Bael has beco increasingly difficult to survive in dostic settings lately.

The thought irritates enough that I climb out of bed and head toward the bathroom before my brain can continue sabotaging emotionally before eight in the morning.

By the ti I’m dressed, I’ve mostly forced myself back under control.

Or close enough.

I tell myself very firmly that yesterday changed nothing.

Bael kissed because emotions were running high before the gala.

Bael touched because I’m carrying his child.

Bael asked to co back because he dislikes unresolved tension and prefers order inside his household.

None of those things an what so reckless part of keeps wanting them to an.

The problem is that the explanations no longer settle as neatly inside my head as they used to.

I hate that.

I leave the room anyway.

The hallway is quiet while I walk downstairs slowly, one hand trailing lightly against the railing more out of habit than necessity. Halfway down, voices drift faintly from the dining room.

One of them is Bael’s.

My steps falter automatically.

Stupid.

I continue downward before I can reconsider it.

The mont I step into the dining room, Bael looks up imdiately.

Awareness hits all at once anyway despite my best efforts to avoid it.

He’s dressed casually today for once instead of formally, dark athletic clothes fitting close enough to make him look unfairly good this early in the morning. His sleeves are pushed up to his forearms, exposing strong lean muscle beneath lightly tanned skin while one hand rests loosely around a coffee cup near his elbow.

His grey eyes settle on steadily for one brief second before shifting away again.

Calm, composed, entirely controlled.

Nothing about him outwardly suggests he spent last night looking at like I’d said sothing capable of unsettling him.

For one irrational mont, disappointnt flickers through before I crush it imdiately.

What exactly was I expecting?

Mrs. Wen notices next.

"Young master, good morning," she says warmly. "I was about to send breakfast upstairs."

"I’m pregnant, not dying," I mutter while sitting down.

Her expression turns flat instantly.

"Eat."

I sigh quietly and reach for the tea instead of arguing because emotionally I simply don’t have the energy for it this morning.

Across from , Bael says nothing initially.

Which sohow feels worse.

I can feel his attention occasionally lifting toward anyway despite the silence, subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it happening.

Unfortunately, I notice everything he does lately.

Tea appears closer to my hand a second later.

I blink before realizing Bael pushed the cup toward absentmindedly while reading sothing on his phone.

The tiny movent shouldn’t affect .

It does anyway.

"Thanks," I say before I can stop myself.

Bael glances up briefly.

"No nausea?"

The question lands softly enough that my grip tightens slightly around the teacup.

Normal.

He’s acting normal.

And sohow that almost feels cruel after last night.

"Not yet," I answer carefully.

Bael nods once before setting his phone aside entirely.

Mrs. Wen returns with breakfast monts later, muttering under her breath about both of us sleeping too little lately while placing food down in front of us.

Normally I would’ve smiled automatically at that. This morning I mostly focus on pretending my appetite still exists.

Across from , Bael finally speaks again after several quiet minutes.

"We’re running today."

I look up imdiately.

"What?"

His expression doesn’t change.

"Dr. Xi said regular exercise would help with the back pain."

I keep my eyes on the tea in front of .

For a second, I honestly think I misheard him.

"...Exercise."

Bael takes a slow sip of coffee. Calm. Completely unaffected by the fact that yesterday ended with nearly falling apart in front of him.

"Mm."

The quiet normalcy of it unsettles imdiately.

I set the teacup down carefully. "You cannot seriously expect to jog with you right now."

His gaze lifts to mine then, steady, observant, and annoyingly difficult to read.

"Why not?"

The question lands too simply, like he already knows the answer.

Heat creeps uncomfortably up the back of my neck.

Because obviously he knows why not.

Because less than twelve hours ago he had pressed against his chest asking to co back to his room like that sentence wasn’t capable of destroying my emotional stability for an entire night afterward.

And now he’s discussing exercise over breakfast like none of it happened.

I hate that this affects more than awkwardness would’ve.

"I said no."

Bael sets the coffee down quietly.

"You’ve barely exercised properly in weeks."

"I’m fine."

"That’s not an answer."

I look away first.

Across the table, I can feel his attention lingering on anyway. Careful, asured, like he’s trying to understand sothing without pushing hard enough to make leave again.

That realization only makes more defensive.

"You seem very invested in this suddenly."

"The doctor told you to exercise."

"The doctor told many things yesterday."

A brief pause.

Then Bael says calmly:

"You stopped listening halfway through."

I blink at him.

The worst part is that he sounds genuinely certain about it.

"I did not."

"You looked at the window for ten straight minutes."

Mrs. Wen abruptly turns away toward the cabinet, shoulders shaking suspiciously.

Traitor.

"I was thinking."

"Exactly."

Heat flashes across my face instantly. Because unfortunately that is exactly what I was doing.

Bael watches for another second before leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Twenty minutes," he says. "We’ll stay inside the estate."

"I’m not agreeing."

His expression barely changes.

"You will."

I narrow my eyes imdiately despite myself. "Confident."

"You get stubborn when embarrassed."

My chest nearly stops.

For one horrible second, I genuinely cannot tell whether he realizes how dangerous these conversations have beco for .

Because the problem is not the teasing itself.

The problem is that Bael has started sounding familiar again.

Warm in quiet devastating ways that slip past my defenses before I can stop them.

I force my expression flat. "You’re impossible."

"Hm."

That stupid sound again.

Calm, unbothered, faintly amused.

I want to throw the teacup at him.

Instead I look back down at breakfast, determined not to react anymore.

Then Bael says casually:

"If you get tired after one lap, I’ll try not to judge you too harshly."

I look up imdiately.

He finally smiles. Small, brief, almost nonexistent, but enough.

"Oh, absolutely not."

Sothing shifts subtly in his expression then.

Not victory exactly, but close enough that realization hits a second too late.

Bael knew exactly what he was doing.

And sohow, despite everything that happened last night, I walked directly into it anyway.