Chapter 752: Chapter 753: when they come out, do you think they will like me best?

He did not like how weak it was. He did not like how much it made him want to tear open the door and shout for Cyrus even though he had just left.

So he reached for her hand.

Then stopped.

Then reached again.

Isabella noticed. "Why are you acting like my hand is a dangerous animal?"

"Because you are in a bad mood and may bite."

"I may."

"See? I am wise."

She gave him her hand anyway.

The moment he held it, his fingers curled around hers more carefully than she expected. He did not squeeze too hard. He did not make a joke immediately. He only held on while his other hand hovered near her stomach, dark power ready but not touching her without need.

That made Isabella look at him with suspicion even through the discomfort.

"You are being too nice again."

Zyran’s eyes flicked to hers. "Would you prefer me to be awful while your body is working?"

"Yes, actually. That would feel more normal."

A small smile returned to his face. "Fine. You look terrible."

Isabella stared at him.

Then, despite herself, she laughed once. "You bastard."

"There. Better."

The wave began to ease.

Isabella slowly relaxed back into the furs, and Zyran exhaled in a way he clearly did not want her to notice. She did notice, of course, because he was not nearly as smooth as he thought when he was worried.

"So," he said, forcing his voice into a playful tone, "when they come out, do you think they will like me best?"

Isabella turned her head slowly. "My unborn children?"

"Yes."

"They have not even seen you."

"That may help my chances."

She blinked, then snorted. "At least you are self-aware."

Zyran looked offended. "I am unforgettable."

"You are traumatic."

"Same thing."

That actually made her smile.

Seeing that, Zyran felt something tight inside him loosen, though only a little. He kept talking after that because he had realized that words helped her more than silence. If the room stayed too quiet, Isabella would listen too much to her own body. If he annoyed her, she became too busy glaring at him to panic properly.

So he leaned closer and said, "If one of them has your temper, we are all finished."

"If one of them has your mouth, I am throwing it back inside."

Zyran paused.

Then he looked deeply touched. "That was cruel and creative. I am proud."

"You should be scared."

"I am many things."

"Smart is not one of them."

He smiled. "You wound me so easily."

"You heal fast."

Another smaller pain moved through her stomach then, and her expression changed again.

Zyran’s hand tightened around hers at once.

The smile disappeared so fast that Isabella almost wanted to scold him for ruining his own act.

"Breathe," he said.

His voice came out softer.

Too soft.

Isabella tried, but her breath caught in the middle, and for one second she looked much younger than usual. Not like the bossy, bright, impossible female who ordered them all around and acted like she owned the world. She looked like a pregnant woman in pain, unsure of her own body, trying to be brave because everyone around her was already scared enough.

Zyran hated it.

He hated it so much his shadow stirred under him without permission.

The black power moved slightly along the edge of the fur.

Isabella saw it and immediately said, "Do not put black smoke near my stomach unless you know what you are doing."

Zyran froze.

Then his expression became ridiculous. "Black smoke?"

"Yes."

"That is such an ugly name."

"I am in pain. I get to name things badly."

He stared at her.

Then, despite himself, he laughed softly.

The laugh helped her.

The pain eased a little, and she opened her eyes again. "You looked like you were about to faint."

"I do not faint."

"You looked close."

"I was preparing to be dramatic."

"You are always prepared for that."

"Exactly."

He reached for the cup of water beside the bed and helped her drink a little. His movement was gentle, almost too gentle, and Isabella noticed again but decided not to tease him this time. He was trying. In his own strange way, he was really trying.

After she drank, he wiped a tiny drop from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, then immediately ruined the tenderness by saying, "You know, I am doing very well. Cyrus should praise me."

Isabella stared at him. "You want praise for not making me worse?"

"I think that is worth praise."

"You are shameless."

"And yet I am still here."

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Thank you."

Zyran went still.

The words were simple, but he clearly had not expected them.

For once, he did not have an immediate shameless answer.

Isabella saw that too and raised a brow. "What? Did I break you?"

Zyran recovered quickly, though the softness in his eyes did not disappear fast enough. "No. I was simply memorizing the rare moment you treated me nicely."

"Do not get used to it."

"I already carved it into my soul."

"Dramatic."

"Always."

The door moved then.

Both of them turned at once.

Isabella’s hand tightened around Zyran’s without her meaning to, and Zyran’s whole body shifted closer to her by instinct.

Then the door opened, and Cyrus came back.

Cyrus came back with the basket in one hand and the covered bowl in the other.

The moment he entered, his eyes went to Isabella first. That was already a habit now. He did not even look at the room properly before checking her face, her breathing, her hands, and the way she was holding herself on the bed. Only after seeing that she was still lying against the furs and breathing steadily did the tightness in his shoulders loosen a little.

Isabella saw it and almost laughed again.

This male was truly becoming worse.