He didn’t finish the question. Instead, his arms reached for me—not with anger, not with irritation, but something else entirely.

Something terrifyingly tender. He lifted me gently and carried me to the nearest sofa, lowering me down with unexpected care.

“I told you not to be stubborn,” he murmured, his voice softer now—almost gentle. “Is the pain bad?”

Marry rushed in with a heat compress from the first aid kit, filling it quickly with warm water.

“Madam, this should help ease the pain a little,” she said, kneeling beside me and pressing it into my hands.

I pressed the warm compress against my lower stomach, the heat soothing but not...