Chapter 644: A Birthday Cake

In the car, Hannah nestled in Oscar's arms. Silence hung between them, a shared worry palpable in the air.

"Rowan offered me a position in the capital," Oscar announced.

Hannah compressed her lips, the implications clear. In her past life, Charles had also been drawn to the capital after a period of development; Oscar, however, was moving faster.

"Going there means I might be away more," he said.

"Uh-huh," she murmured, accepting the inevitable. She'd initially believed she could help Oscar navigate the political landscape, believing his ambition was merely to supplant Charles. She hadn't anticipated the depth of his commitment, the weight of familial and national responsibility he bore. Facing this, she felt her own capabilities were limited.

"Everything will be alright once this is over," Oscar reassured, tightening his embrace. He, too, dreaded the separation.

"I trust you, but..." she began.

"But what?" he prompted.

"I feel like I can't help you," Hannah admitted, feeling a pang of helplessness. She longed to contribute meaningfully to his world.

"Little fool," Oscar chuckled, his smile tender. "Your arrival accelerated my advancement by at least a decade."

Hannah gazed at him. He touched her nose. "Don't underestimate your importance in my life!"

"Yes," she whispered, leaning her head against his chest. "I'll care for our baby. You handle everything else."

Hannah nodded. "You promised a clean identity, and I trust you'll keep your word."

"I'll wait for you," she vowed. Neither could predict the future.

Half a month later, it was Oscar's birthday. Hannah awoke early, carefully lifting the quilt.

"Ah!" she gasped softly.

Oscar immediately gathered her in his arms. "Where are you going?" he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Toilet," she replied, assuming he was still asleep.

"I'll carry you," he offered.

"I can manage," she protested.

He ignored her, lifting her effortlessly. Hannah instinctively looped her arms around his neck; his strength was remarkable. He deposited her on the toilet.

"You can… pee now," he stated.

"And you can watch?" Hannah bristled. "Get out!"

He ruffled her hair, smiling. "I've seen you before."

"Oscar!" she snapped.

"Don't get angry; you'll wake the baby."

"...Get out," she repeated firmly.

He reluctantly left. Hannah breathed deeply. She'd planned to surprise him with a birthday cake, but now her plans were disrupted.

Quickly attending to her needs, she emerged to find Oscar waiting.

"I don't want to sleep anymore," she announced.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked.

"I want to bake you a cake," she declared.

Oscar paused.

"Today's your birthday, isn't it?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

A catch escaped Oscar's throat. "I've never celebrated it." He'd only mentioned it casually; his childhood birthdays were always Thomas Wells'.

"That's over," Hannah said sweetly. "I'll be with you every year from now on."

"Okay," he agreed readily.

"I'm going to the kitchen."

"Let Max do it," he suggested.

"Oscar!" she protested, his attempts to dissuade her growing irritating. She was pregnant, not incapacitated.

"I'm afraid you don't know how to bake."

"I ate your River Town cooking," she retorted.

"You're worried it'll taste bad, aren't you?" she challenged, her frustration bubbling over. She realized her sentimentality was misplaced.

Smiling broadly, he said, "No. I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself."

"I don't care! I want to make one for you," she insisted, deploying her full charm. He couldn't resist her, especially not when she unleashed her winning smile.

He kissed her cheek. "Fine, but I'm accompanying you."

"...Okay."

They descended together. Max, surprised by their early appearance, offered to make breakfast.

"It's alright, Max. I'm baking a cake for Oscar," Hannah explained.

Max stared at her in astonishment.

Hannah hesitated, then turned to Oscar. "Doesn't Max know?" Surely, Max, his long-time employee, knew Oscar's real birthday.

"No," Oscar shook his head. "Everyone but you."

Hannah felt a surge of anger.

"Max just didn't expect you to know," Oscar clarified, approaching Max. "She knows everything."

Max nodded, relief and delight evident. "You can get back to your work. I'll be with Hannah."

"Yes," Max replied respectfully, departing.

Oscar winked. "Let's go, Chef Hannah."

Hannah felt a playful jab in his words, but her preparations had been meticulous. She wasn't about to fail.

She entered the kitchen, Oscar's affectionate embrace a constant presence. His occasional caresses of her stomach and bosom, however, were distracting.

Finally, the cake was finished, beautifully decorated. She reached for the plate.

"Ah!" A searing pain shot through her hand as she touched the hot oven. Oscar instantly grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking her fingers.

The intimacy of the act was overwhelming.

"It doesn't hurt," she whispered, her face flushed.

He withdrew, leaving her breathless. She hastily pulled her hand away, barely maintaining composure. His nearness was almost too much. The thought of the remaining ten months of her pregnancy suddenly seemed excruciatingly long.

Together they carried the cake to the dining table. Oscar took a bite, and Hannah watched intently, her nerves taut.

"It's not good?" she ventured anxiously.

He shook his head.

"Is it… good?"

Another shake of the head.

"Oscar!" she exclaimed, suspecting he was teasing her.

"It tastes like my mother's cooking," he said softly.

"My mother," he murmured, a poignant note in his voice. "My real mother made me a cake once, on my birthday."