Chapter 15 - In his arms...

Chapter 15 🫐

Dylan often reminded himself that Milim was still very young—too young, in fact, to have a firm grasp on how the world worked. That was the part that troubled him most. If it were up to him alone, he would have managed everything his own way. But with Milim, he had to approach things gently, like soothing a child. He couldn't have serious conversations with her, because she still didn't understand what it meant to be a parent. Since becoming pregnant, her only concern had been hiding the truth from her parents. She never once thought about what would happen to her or the baby.

Left with no choice, Dylan simply accepted things as they were.

"Get in the car," he said, holding open the backseat door for her. His voice was calm, but his head throbbed from the stress. He kept an eye on her closely, afraid she might trip and fall again, just like she almost did a moment ago.

'Asher should've kept his mouth shut earlier,' Dylan thought bitterly.

"My family lives in the old district, across from the old courthouse," Milim explained as she got into the car. Then she paused and added, "But… could you take me to Sunshine Bakery first? I want to quit my job in person."

Buckling his seatbelt, Dylan frowned. "Why waste your time on such a hot day? Just make a phone call."

Milim shook her head firmly. "The store owner's really kind to me. It would feel wrong to leave without saying goodbye."

Dylan didn't argue, though he was puzzled. As he steered the car onto the road, he glanced at her. "Is the job that good?"

She nodded. "He gives us free snacks from the store, doesn't scold us for being late, and lets us take leave when we need to." After a short pause, she added, "One time, I was really dizzy, and he helped me catch a ride home so I could rest. Thanks to that, I was able to return to work the next day."

Dylan's fingers twitched slightly on the steering wheel. "That's what you call kind?"

"Yes," Milim said earnestly. "He's warm-hearted. He treats everyone kindly, especially his workers." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to get more relaxed. "For example, if a millionaire gave me $100, I'd be thankful. But if a very poor person gave me just $10, I'd admire them even more. That's real kindness, don't you think?"

Dylan glanced at her sideways. That logic made no sense to him. Sure, he didn't deny the store manager's kindness, but Milim's comparisons were immature, the kind only someone young and sheltered would make. It was clear there was a generation gap between them.

"Do you get what I mean?" she asked softly.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Dylan replied, "We've got some time before six. I have to stop by the office, then I'll take you out to dinner at five."

Milim quickly calculated the time. "But if we eat at five, we'll probably finish just before six. That won't give me enough time to get home."

Dylan adjusted the air conditioning and loosened his collar. "I said I'd send you home at six. I didn't say it had to be exactly six."

Milim opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how to respond. Eventually, she leaned her head against the door and sighed. Her family usually didn't eat until after seven, so her absence wouldn't be a huge problem.

It took about thirty minutes to get from the hospital to Dylan's office. On the way, Milim nearly dozed off again, her body swaying forward from drowsiness.

When they arrived, Dylan opened the car door and looked her in the eyes, frowning slightly. "Is something bothering you?"

Milim rubbed her eyes and looked up tiredly. "I feel terrible. You said I could sleep after the exam, and now I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open."

Dylan let out a long sigh and held the door. "Come on. Get out for a minute."

Milim stepped out, her eyes red from sleep and her body moving sluggishly. Dylan supported her gently, and in one smooth motion, lifted her into his arms.

"Go to sleep," he said quietly.

At first, Milim was startled. She blinked up at him, confused, her cheek pressed against his chest. His body was warm and comforting, and she instinctively snuggled closer, giving in to the safety and warmth. Her eyes grew heavier, and she stopped resisting.

Embarrassment didn't bother her. She'd embarrassed herself more times than she could count, so this was just another moment to add to the list.

The elevator from the parking lot was empty, but a few people joined once they reached the ground floor. Dylan didn't let anyone stand too close.

"Please don't get too close. Thank you," he said sharply when someone came near.

People looked at him in surprise—there was still plenty of space in the elevator. But Dylan ignored them. When they reached his floor, he told everyone to step aside again.

The entire floor belonged to Dylan's company, and the front lobby was bright and stylish. The receptionists, young and attractive, smiled brightly when they saw him—until he gave them a cold, warning stare.

"Be quiet," he ordered.

The women froze in shock as Dylan walked past with Milim in his arms. His pace was steady, his expression unreadable.

Everyone stared, stunned, but no one dared speak to him.

Secretary Van rushed forward to open the office door. "Mr. Dylan, do you need help?"

Dylan shook his head, and Van respectfully closed the door behind them.

"What's going on?" someone asked Van outside.

"No idea," Van replied with a shrug. "That's the boss's business. Stop being nosy."

Though Van was curious, he pretended not to care. From a quick glance, he was ninety percent sure the person Dylan was carrying was a girl.

This was the second time Dylan had carried Milim like this. The first time, he didn't think much of it—her light frame and soft body had caught his attention. But now, he frowned.

"How do you even eat?" he muttered under his breath.

She was far too light. It made him uneasy. He carried her to the small resting room attached to his office but paused near the door.

'The sofa outside is wide enough,' he thought.

He decided to let her sleep there instead. Gently, he wrapped her in a blanket and made sure she was comfortable before returning to his desk.

A short while later, Secretary Van knocked on the door, holding some paperwork.

"Come in," Dylan said.

Van entered, handed him the documents, and avoided looking toward the sofa.

"Please sign these," Van said.

Dylan signed them quickly. "Zealand starts operations tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Enzo will be here early to meet you." Van hesitated before adding, "Also, Lady Ivy from Camden invited you to dinner. She said she couldn't reach you and asked me to inform you if I saw you."

Ivy Carter came from a prestigious family, one well-suited to the Mavericks. Just recently, both families had talked about arranging a match between Dylan and Ivy.

"Tell her I couldn't come," Dylan replied flatly.

Then he paused. "Actually, I'll call her myself. You may go."

Van nodded and left, sneaking one last glance toward the sleeping girl—but he couldn't see her face. He sighed and walked out.

Dylan picked up another phone and dialed Ivy's number. As it rang, his eyes kept drifting to Milim, sleeping soundly on the sofa. The calm, quiet look on her face stirred something unfamiliar in his chest.

"Mr. Dylan?" Ivy's sweet voice rang out when she answered. "Finally! I've been trying to reach you forever."

"I'm sorry," Dylan said calmly. "I've found the right person for me, Miss Ivy. I hope you find someone suitable as well."

There was a long silence. Then Ivy asked coldly, "Who?"

"I have no comment," Dylan replied.

"What does she have that I don't?" Ivy asked through clenched teeth. She had liked Dylan for a long time and thought their blind date had gone perfectly.

"She's having my child," Dylan said plainly.

Ivy went quiet, a chill running through her. There was no way she could compete with that. As much as she wanted to fight for Dylan, she knew she had lost.

After hanging up, Dylan turned his attention back to Milim. He knew he wouldn't be able to finish his work, no matter how hard he tried.

At 4:30 p.m., he rushed through the most urgent tasks and postponed the rest. He wanted to leave early.

Standing beside the sofa, he whispered softly, "Hey."

Milim didn't stir. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing was slow and steady.

"Milim," he said again. His voice was quiet, almost tender.

Her name rolled off his lips like a gentle breeze, soft but filled with something unspoken.