Adrian completely lost the ability to speak.

He remained frozen in the plastic chair, staring at her like he’d just taken a physical blow straight to the skull.

“How far along?” he finally managed to choke out.

“Twelve weeks.”

His eyelids shut for a brief second before snapping open again, as if his body couldn’t decide how to process the information.

“February,” he breathed.

“Yeah.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. One winter night. One reckless decision. Or maybe not so reckless—depending on how honest either of them was willing to be now.

Adrian leaned back slowly, dragging a hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself.

Evelyn studied him carefully. She recognized this silence. It wasn’t emptiness—it was containment. He was locking everything away behind reinforced walls.

“I had no idea,” she said quietly.

“I’m aware.”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like you’re already running a hundred different outcomes in your head.”

At that, he finally looked at her. Really looked.

“I’m sitting here realizing that if I had known this this morning, that boardroom conversation would’ve gone very differently.”

Evelyn tilted her head slightly. “Would it really have changed anything?”

The question lingered between them, heavy and unresolved.