Chapter 1604:

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“…to pick you up.”

In truth, he had something important to discuss tonight, and he wanted to bring her home early.

That evening, in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, Wesley used gentle touches and murmured words to soften her defenses. When Elena finally relaxed, he leaned close and whispered, his voice husky, “Darling… when do you want to try for a baby?”

A baby?

Elena went still, caught off guard.

“Why bring that up now?” she asked.

“I thought kids weren’t your thing.”

Wesley’s smile was soft, almost shy.

“If it’s a little girl who takes after you, I’d adore her.”

Elena turned the idea over in her mind, then set the condom aside.

“Fine,” she said lightly.

“Let’s skip it.”

A child who resembled Wesley, she decided, wouldn’t be so bad either.

Wesley’s eyes lit up, his voice unsteady with excitement.

“You mean it?”

With a playful smirk, Elena arched a brow.

“Unless you’re saying you can’t handle it.”

Wesley’s low laugh was his only answer—and everything that followed made it unmistakably clear that he could.

It turned out Wesley’s fertility far exceeded what Elena had imagined. Only a month later, she discovered she was pregnant.

When Laurence heard the news, his delight was immediate—and lavish. He insisted Elena take an extended leave and rest properly at home.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖊: ⳑ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧼ⅽ𝗈𝗺

The revelation rippled through both the Spencer and Harper households, filling everyone with excited anticipation. Yet no one seemed as tense or fretful as Wesley himself, the soon-to-be father.

He stopped going to the office altogether, moving all his work home so he could stay glued to Elena’s side from morning until night. If she so much as sneezed or coughed, his heart would jolt and he’d rush over in a panic.

Elena, a doctor and perfectly aware of her own condition, kept assuring him she was fine. But her words slid right past him; his nerves stayed taut as wire, his gaze tracking her every movement.

Ironically, while Elena breezed through pregnancy without even a hint of nausea, Wesley began throwing up.

One morning, Elena stood by the bathroom door with her arms crossed, watching him—pale and trembling—over the sink. Her voice was dry with disbelief.

“Remind me again—who’s pregnant here, you or me?”

She hadn’t felt a single wave of morning sickness, yet there he was, retching like the afflicted one.

Wesley rinsed his mouth, his voice weak but gentle.

“Thank heaven you didn’t have to feel any of it,” he murmured. If she had to endure that kind of misery, it would destroy him.

After washing his hands, he trudged toward her and, despite his tall, commanding frame, folded himself against her chest like an overgrown child seeking comfort.

“Baby,” he whispered, brushing his cheek against her shoulder, “put that phone down. Look at me instead. Aren’t I more entertaining than whatever’s on that screen?”

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