Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 447

Chapter 447: ’His Pregnancy.’

"Bleugh... bleuuugh..."

’Make it stop.’

Another wave hit him hard, pulling the breath from his lungs. The cold porcelain pressed against his forehead, the taste of acid burning his tongue.

"Bleugh..."

’It hurts.’

His stomach twisted again, and tears slipped down his cheeks—silent and hot.

"Y-Your Highness... are you alright?" Cashew’s gentle voice floated through the door, hesitant and laced with worry.

Florian sat crumpled on the cold, marble floor, clutching his stomach, body trembling. He could barely lift his head.

"I’m... fine, Cashew," he managed hoarsely, his voice raw from retching.

"A-Are... you sure? You don’t want me to call the doct—"

"I said I’m fine, Cashew!" Florian snapped, sharper than he intended.

A heavy silence followed, and guilt immediately washed over him. His lips trembled.

"Cashew, I’m—"

"It’s okay, Your Highness," Cashew said quietly. "I... I’ll bring you some tea. Something gentle for your stomach."

Florian heard his retreating footsteps, and the soft click of the door closing left him alone again with the echo of his own misery.

He wiped at his lips with a shaking hand, the metallic taste of bile still lingering. Then, slowly, he dragged himself to the wall and leaned against it, pressing his back to the cold surface.

His hand fell instinctively to his stomach, resting there as if to shield it.

It had been two weeks since Lysander told him. Two weeks since the word pregnant was uttered and everything changed.

And he’d been sick every morning since.

Lysander had urged him gently—tell Heinz soon, before the signs were impossible to hide. But Florian hadn’t. Not yet.

"I didn’t think it’d be this hard..." he whispered, voice cracking as he stared blankly at the toilet bowl.

He bit his lower lip, willing himself not to cry. ’You’ve cried enough. Stop it. Just stop.’

But the tears spilled again—helpless, involuntary. Like everything else.

A sob tore out of him, and then another.

"How am I going to do this?" he choked. "What am I going to do?"

He wrapped his arms around himself, around the fragile life forming inside, and the weight of it all crashed down on him.

"I can’t... I can’t do this alone," he wept, voice breaking with every word.

His stomach twisted once more and he barely made it to the toilet again.

"Bleugh..."

Another wave of nausea mixed with panic and grief.

"I don’t want to be alone with this," he whispered through tears, his voice barely audible.

His whole body shook as he cried.

"Hein—"

"Heinz!" Florian gasped, his eyes snapping open as his chest heaved. His hands moved quickly, instinctively, reaching for his stomach—only to falter.

He couldn’t.

Something was wrapped around him.

Someone.

He turned his head slowly, heart still pounding in his chest, and saw Heinz—arms loosely holding him, face relaxed in sleep, his breath calm and steady against Florian’s back.

Florian stared at him in silence.

"A dream..." he murmured under his breath.

No.

A memory.

It hadn’t been illusion or fantasy. The weight in his chest told him that much. The original Florian was showing him something again—another piece of the past.

And this one... this one hurt.

His pregnancy.

Of all things, it was one of the few memories that kept returning to him lately. Repeating. Lingering.

Tragic.

"Hah..." he exhaled shakily, dragging his eyes back to Heinz.

Now he had seen things the novel never mentioned. Now he felt things the original Florian had buried deep.

’And even after all that, he still called after Heinz.’

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify