As they descended the stairs, Liam kept one hand securely around Ava's arm, moving slowly, as if she were made of glass. His steps were cautious, each one calculated to shield her from the slightest slip.
Ava couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Liam, I'm pregnant, not fragile," she teased.
"You're both," he replied without looking at her. "So let me be careful."
She didn't argue again. First-time fatherhood clearly came with a heavy dose of nerves—and maybe a touch of overprotectiveness. Still, the way he cared for her was endearing, even if a little much.
When they reached the dining room, the aroma of freshly prepared breakfast filled the air. Mary, their longtime housekeeper, had outdone herself: a warm bowl of jasmine rice porridge, freshly squeezed orange juice, a slice of homemade tiramisu, golden pan-fried dumplings, broccoli tossed with wood ear mushrooms, a small dish of mixed nuts, and neat cubes of dragon fruit arranged like a mosaic.
