Chapter 29 MAKE ME PREGNANT

Chapter 29 MAKE ME PREGNANT
BY LUNCHTIME, I still hadn’t crossed paths with Rare.

Not that it mattered.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself every single time his name slipped into conversations around the hospital.

Apparently, he had been trapped inside operating rooms the entire day, handling one surgery after another without even taking a proper break. According to the nurses, every operation had gone perfectly.

Of course they had.

Rare was known for that.

He wasn’t just good at his job—he was exceptional. One of the best surgeons St. Calisha had ever had. Patients trusted him with their lives, and somehow, he always carried the weight of those lives on his shoulders without breaking.

It was honestly annoying.

How could someone be that talented and still look unfairly attractive while saving lives?

I was on my way to the third floor to submit reports when I accidentally passed by the Neuro Surgery wing. The hallway was colder there, quieter, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic and tension.

My footsteps slowed.

Curiosity got the better of me.

One of the operating room curtains hadn’t been fully closed, leaving a narrow gap against the glass panel.

And through that small opening—

I saw him.

Rare.

Even with half of his face hidden behind a surgical mask and cap, I recognized him instantly. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was the calm authority in every movement he made.

Or maybe my eyes had simply learned how to find him without trying.

He stood beneath the bright surgical lights, gloved hands moving with impossible precision. Every movement was controlled, smooth, practiced to perfection. His eyes remained focused on the procedure in front of him, sharp and unwavering despite what was probably hours of exhaustion.

God.

Why did he look even more attractive like this?

There was something dangerously magnetic about him whenever he worked—something intense enough to make anyone stop and stare.

The concentration in his eyes alone could steal someone’s breath away.

No wonder some nurses joked about volunteering themselves as patients just to be close to him.

“Doc, operate on me instead.”

The memory of their teasing made me internally cringe.

“Ugh. Disgusting,” I muttered under my breath, immediately looking away as heat crept up my neck.

What was wrong with me?

I was about to walk off before someone caught me staring like a complete idiot—

Unfortunately, Razen appeared beside me at the worst possible moment.

“Hey,” she said suspiciously. “What are you doing there?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“N-Nothing!” I stammered way too quickly. “I was just checking the patient.”

Razen slowly smirked, clearly unconvinced.

“Oh?” she teased. “The patient… or the hot surgeon?”

I scoffed dramatically, rolling my eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“Rare? Hot?” I repeated in mock disgust. “Please.”

Razen burst into laughter.

“Sure, Atarah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I walked away before she could tease me further, but unfortunately, my heart continued acting embarrassingly stupid for the rest of the day.

BY THE EVENING,  the entire hospital was buzzing once again.

Another successful surgery.

Another life saved by Dr. Rare Cedrick Grison.

Some nurses were practically glowing with excitement as they rushed through the hallways, eager to congratulate him. Others were already waiting outside the operating wing just to catch a glimpse of him after surgery.

I told myself I wasn’t interested.

I told myself I didn’t care.

But somehow…

My feet still betrayed me.

Before I knew it, I was already standing at the far end of the hallway where a crowd of nurses surrounded him.

I stayed hidden behind the corner, arms crossed tightly against my chest while pretending I wasn’t waiting for anything.

Or anyone.

The nurses kept giggling around him, showering him with compliments and congratulations. Rare responded politely, though even from a distance, I could see how exhausted he looked.

There were dark shadows beneath his eyes.

His shoulders looked heavy.

Tired.

Completely drained.

And for some reason, seeing him like that tugged painfully at something inside me.

It took nearly ten minutes before he finally dismissed everyone.

The moment the hallway emptied, Rare loosened the surgical mask hanging around his neck and rubbed his temple with his fingers. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a slow breath like the weight of the entire day had finally caught up to him.

My chest tightened. Then before I could stop myself—

I stepped out from hiding.

“Hey.”

Rare immediately looked up.

The moment his eyes landed on me, something softened in his expression.

“Atarah…”

There was surprise in his voice. But beneath that surprise was something warmer. Something deeper.

Suddenly, I felt awkward standing there.

I shifted uncomfortably and avoided his gaze for a second.

“Uh…” I awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Congratulations. For the successful surgery.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

He just stared at me.

Not casually.

Not normally.

But intensely—like he was trying to memorize every inch of my face after being deprived of it the entire day.

Then slowly…

He started walking toward me.

One step.

Then another.

Until the distance between us disappeared completely.

And before I could even process what was happening— His arms wrapped around me.

Gently.

Carefully.

Like I was something precious he was terrified of hurting.

I froze instantly. Rare was tall—easily around six feet—while I barely reached his shoulders. Being trapped against his chest like that made me feel impossibly small beneath him.

But strangely safe. His embrace was warm, firm, and unbelievably comforting.

I could hear the uneven rhythm of his breathing.

Could feel the exhaustion weighing down his body.

And somehow, despite his strength, he held me like I was the only soft thing left in his world.

My heart started pounding violently against my ribs.

“R-Rare…” I whispered shakily. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, his arms tightened slightly around my waist.

Not enough to hurt me.

Just enough to pull me closer.

I felt his forehead rest lightly against my hair before he let out a tired breath.

God.

Even exhausted, he still smelled dangerously good—clean, warm, with traces of antiseptic and faint cologne lingering on his skin.

Then he leaned closer.

So close that his lips nearly brushed my ear.

And when he finally spoke, his voice came out low, husky, and painfully vulnerable.

“I’m so tired, baby.”

The words wrapped around my heart so softly it almost hurt.

My breath caught in my throat.

Rare buried his face against the side of my neck for a brief second, like he was allowing himself one moment of weakness after being strong for everyone else the entire day.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Please.”

My pulse stumbled.

“Let me breathe around you for a while.”