XXVII. HIGH FIDELITY

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XXVII.

H I G H  F I D E L I T Y

—aka, it's tough being out here with a womb

—aka, it's tough being out here with a womb

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INT— A RESTAURANT.

PARIS, FRANCE — NIGHT.



SCENE II.



Days leading to the event had become noiseless.

The closer we got, the more I felt like a soldier awaiting the war in the throngs of it. Kristoff had become even busier, bringing Archie and KC alongside him.

As much as I grew bored, unable to leave the hotel unless it was planned beforehand in extensive detail by Angelo— who I found out is my new lead guard, tall, big built Italian man who is more nods and pointed stares than he is words, mostly living in my own shadows than my actual face — I didn't press nor let my antsy foot allow myself to indulge whimsy and leave.

With the crazy bitch in town, I'd like to keep my head where it is— visa vi, on my shoulders, thank you very much.

With all the rage she possessed when I mentioned I might be pregnant, you would think she'd be happy, being a first time aunt and all. It was her idea in the first place.

Father to be himself laughed, nearly choking on his steak when I told him at dinner. After the brisk walk in the Louvre, I pivoted to one of my favourite restaurants, just off 1 Rue Perrault. For a day like ours, with Kristoff more than melting with agreement, we needed the good steak and the long wine list.

"Bless you," I said, amused, offering him his napkin. "Try not to die before I give birth, will you?"

His gaze was amused, lips twisted into a smirk. "Wouldn't dare leave the future mother of my children all by herself."

"Children is plural."

He took his wine glass to his lips. "I'm aware."

My eyes narrowed. "I'll have you know the chances of twins in my family are rare, Mr. Park. No one in the last five generations have produced them at least."

He met my gaze over his glass, and I could tell he was making fun of me, smirk dancing between the red and crystal. But it was also his eyes. His demeanour held that hint of teasing, that ease of laughter and looser shoulders, a version of him I quite like, if not surprised by its appearance.

But his gaze was different— this one familiar. It promised whispers in the dark, and my lips felt a ghost of a tingle as I remembered our kiss not long ago.

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