Y/N's POV
The Man in Black rose, inhaling loudly.
"I'm not finished," I said quickly, turning my back on him and walking to the window. "You'll see your child, but you'll never see me. The kid will never take over after you and live in Sicily. Is that clear? I'll have it and raise it, even though I don't want to. I always say that a family should be at least three people—two parents and a child. But I won't allow your behavior to destroy the life of a human being that is not even born yet. Do you understand?"
"What if you're not pregnant?" Jimin asked, taking a step toward me, stopping just a few inches away.
"Then you'll have some atoning to do," I said, turning away.
On my way to the bathroom, I took the test from the glass tabletop and shut the door behind me. I did what was necessary and placed the plastic test on the rim of the sink, crouching with my back to the wall and waiting for the result to show. I stayed there for much longer than necessary. My heart was pounding so hard I could see the blood pulsating in my veins through my skin. I was afraid I was going to throw up.
"Y/N." Jimin knocked on the door. "Is everything all right?"
"Give me a moment!" I called out, standing and glancing at the sink. "Jesus Christ..." I whispered.
When I left the bathroom, the Man in Black was waiting for me on the bed, his face contorted in an expression I had never seen before. It was fear, worry, anxiousness, and most of all unease. Seeing me, he jumped to his feet. I stopped him, reaching out with a hand clutching the test. It was negative. I let it go, and it cluttered to the floor. I went to the kitchen, took a bottle of wine from the fridge, poured myself a glass, and downed it, wincing. Turning my head, I shot a glance at Jimin, standing with his shoulder to the wall.
"Don't do this ever again. If we decide to become parents, it has to be either our mutual decision or an accident. Do you understand?"
Jimin closed the distance between us and hid his face in my hair.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. "I'm sorry about that kid. It would have been a beautiful child."
He stepped away, laughing, as if knowing I'd hit him anytime. He snatched my arms as I swung at him, teasing me.
"If it were a boy but inherited your character . Even I didn't manage that!"
I stopped fighting. "You're bleeding again," I said, unbuttoning his shirt. "We're going to a doctor right now. And that stupid conversation is finished. My son will never be part of the mob."
Jimin pressed himself against me, heedless of the red stains he was leaving on my clothes. With a wide smile, he looked me in the eyes and kissed me.
"So," he said, breaking off the kiss, "we're going to have a son?"
"Stop it, you! That was purely theoretical. Get changed. We're going to the clinic."
I dressed his wounds again and went to the closet, stepping out of the dirty clothes and putting on blue jeans, a white shirt, and my favorite Isabel Marant sneakers. When I was finished, Jimin appeared in the doorway and opened one of the four huge closets. It was filled with his things.
"When did you manage to unpack?"
"Yesterday. I had some time to do it. Besides, I had some help."
He put on worn dark blue jeans and a black sweater, finishing his look with a pair of casual loafers. I had never seen him wear clothes like that. He looked like an ordinary, young, well-dressed man now. He looked mind-blowing. He reached for a suitcase inside the closet and took out a small box.
