For three consecutive days, Elara had grown accustomed to Damien showing up for dinner.
At first, he seemed uncomfortable—stiff, silent, detached. But gradually, he began arriving on his own, without Mrs. Rourke's reminders. Now, each evening after work, he came straight to the hospital, almost as if it were a habit.
Today, he arrived earlier than usual. Dinner wasn't ready yet.
As soon as Damien stepped out of the car, his gaze was drawn to the figure in the garden just beyond the glass. Elara stood there, smiling faintly as she trimmed a blooming camellia.
From the first time he'd met her, she had either been cold, expressionless, or silently shedding tears.
He never knew her smile could be this soft.
She was nothing like Selene. Selene was bold, sultry, and dazzling like a firework. But Elara was something else—subtle, serene, like a camellia in bloom. Quiet beauty. Graceful warmth. A fragrance that lingered.
He stood still, watching as she spoke to the line of nurses behind her. "Camellias grow best in cool, shaded places. Tea trees love humidity, not direct sunlight. Too much sun actually harms them."
"Young Mistress really knows a lot," one of the nurses said, smiling as their group slowly warmed to her after days of cautious distance.
Elara chuckled softly. "My grandma used to love flowers. If I couldn't grow them properly, my mother would... well, scold me a little." She paused and shook her head with a small smile. "Anyway, once you've grown enough, you just learn."
Just then, a voice called out behind her.
"President Rourke!"
Startled, Elara turned around. It wasn't time for dinner yet—why was he here already?
Damien approached silently and paused beside her. His eyes dropped to the camellia she had been trimming, his expression unreadable.
"You like flowers?" he asked. "I'll have someone bring more for your room."
Without another word, he walked past her.
Elara stood there, stunned.
What... did that mean?
One of the nurses leaned in and whispered excitedly, "The President is so kind to you, Young Mistress!"
Elara smiled faintly, but her heart ached. Kind? No... he wasn't being kind to her. He was just being considerate—for the child she carried.
Soon after, the attending doctor came over with a warm smile. "Miss Wynn, time for your routine check-up."
Elara nodded and followed him inside.
She'd gotten used to these daily examinations. But today was different—Damien Rourke was there, watching.
The room was quiet until a soft thumping filled the air—steady, rhythmic, strong.
"What's that sound?" Damien asked, eyes wide with surprise. "Is that... the baby's heartbeat?"
The doctor smiled. "Yes, it is. Sounds strong and healthy. Young Mistress has been recovering well lately, and it's paying off."
A strange warmth surged in Elara's chest.
That sound... was real. That tiny life was growing inside her, day by day, heartbeat by heartbeat.
She had once felt distant from the child—resentful, uncertain. But in this moment, hearing that heartbeat, something shifted.
She smiled faintly, unknowingly placing her hand on her belly.
Damien remained silent, but his gaze was locked on the monitor. In his mind, one thought repeated over and over:
This is my child.
After the check-up, Damien's normally cold expression seemed to soften.
That evening, something unusual happened.
He didn't have the chef prepare individual servings like usual. Instead, he personally picked up a tender piece of braised ribs and placed it into Elara's bowl.
"Eat more. You're too thin."
The chefs all blinked in disbelief. The President served someone food?
He was known to be a germaphobe—never touched shared dishes, let alone served others.
Elara hesitated. She didn't even want to eat, but... this was the first time he'd done something like this. She picked up her chopsticks and took a bite.
As soon as the meat entered her mouth, her stomach turned uncomfortably.
"You don't like meat?" Damien immediately placed some broccoli in her bowl instead. "Then eat this."
Elara's hands paused mid-air, her eyes flickering with emotion.
What was going on with him today?
But then she remembered his words from days ago, and her heart dimmed again.
He wasn't doing this for her.
He was doing it for the baby.
She lowered her head and quietly ate the broccoli. Since she had decided to keep the child, she had to take care of herself—for its sake.
Seeing her eat, a rare hint of joy flashed in Damien's eyes.
The next day at noon, Mrs. Rourke came by. She saw Damien dining quietly beside Elara and gave a satisfied nod.
Later, the attending doctor returned to report the results of the week's observation...