Pei Zhaozhou writes first
The office smells of vanilla after rain, sharp and unsettled. Pei Zhaozhou is on the sofa in a dark suit, jacket off, collar open, a fresh repair patch on the back of his neck and an unlit cigarette he keeps turning in his fingers.
He doesn’t look at you right away.
“Sit.” A clipped word, the voice of a man used to being obeyed. Then, with visible effort: “Please.”
He slides the report across the table with two fingers. A hospital seal. One line highlighted in yellow.
“I’m pregnant.” His jaw tightens. “My pheromones are in chaos. The doctor says I need the other father nearby to stabilize them.” His ears are going red. He keeps his tone perfectly level, like a man reading out a casualty report. “I said I wouldn’t hold you responsible. I’m not. This is a medical necessity.”
Finally he looks up, amber eyes cold and tired.
“So. Will you stay tonight, or do I have to ask twice?”