"Are you sure of what you're saying, Ewan? You want me to choose gifts for your children? What kind of father does that? You haven't even started your daddy duties, and you're already failing…"
Ewan sighed wearily, rubbing slow circles on his forehead, uncertain whether Zane was joking with him or bullshitting him truly. But his mind was too fogged by the present situation surrounding him, leaving no room for Zane's antics.
"Zane, please. You know what I'm battling with at the moment, or haven't you seen or heard the news?"
A resigned sigh echoed from the other end of the phone. "I have seen it, Ewan. And as much as I understand the terrible state you're in—the forlorn condition of your company—choosing gifts for your children feels quite strange, considering they're expecting you. Isn't this something you've been craving?"
