The city lights shimmered beneath the glass walls of Arka’s penthouse, distant and indifferent.
He stood with one hand tucked into his pocket, the other loosely holding a glass of untouched whiskey. His expression was unreadable. Controlled. Measured.
He had learned long ago that the loudest storms often came wrapped in silence.
Behind him, the door clicked open.
Aluna stepped inside.
She looked smaller tonight. Pale. Fragile in a soft ivory dress that clung to her like a whisper. Her eyes searched for him immediately.
“I went to the doctor,” she said quietly.
Arka did not turn around right away.
“And?” His tone was calm. Too calm.
Aluna swallowed. “Three weeks.”
A pause.
Then slowly, he turned.
His gaze lowered to her stomach for the briefest second before returning to her fac
