Three weeks.
It had been three weeks since that night with Ming Xu. Three weeks since the champagne, the dizzy dance floor, and the hotel room I tried not to think about.
Since then, I had been… different.
My stomach twisted every morning. I couldn't drink coffee anymore without wanting to throw up. And my mood? Let's just say my colleagues learned to approach me with chocolate or not at all.
But I told myself it was stress. Yes—stress. Who wouldn't feel sick working under a boss who could make Satan feel underqualified?
This morning, however, the "stress" decided to show up with a side of dizziness. I barely made it to the office before collapsing into my chair.
"Shou Lin, you look like you fought a hurricane and lost," my friend in the office whispered.
I waved her off. "I'm fine… totally fine."
Except, I wasn't. By lunch, I was running to the bathroom again. My reflection looked pale, and my mind was running wild.
One hour later, I found myself in the tiny pharmacy across the street, holding the box in trembling hands.
Back at my apartment, I locked the door, took a deep breath, and followed the instructions.
Five minutes later, I wished I hadn't looked.
Two pink lines.
I stared at them as my heart pounded in my ears. This couldn't be real. No—this shouldn't be real.
Before I could even sit down to think, my phone buzzed.
Boss Ming Xu:Boardroom. Now.
I didn't even realize the pregnancy test was still in my hand until I walked into the boardroom.
And there he was—sitting at the head of the table, sharp suit, sharper eyes. The moment his gaze landed on me, the world went silent.
His eyes slowly dropped to the little stick in my hand.
"What," he said, voice dangerously low, "is that"?