His name was Nathaniel

43

As the evening stretched on, the wine flowed, and the atmosphere in Adaliya's small flat became more relaxed. They sat together, reminiscing and catching up on the years that had slipped through their fingers. But as Nathaniel poured himself yet another glass of wine, Adaliya couldn't help but eye him suspiciously.

"Are you even allowed to drink?" she asked, her tone half-joking but with an edge of seriousness.

Nathaniel paused mid-sip, looking at her with a lopsided grin. "Of course," he said, trying to play it cool. "I'm fine, really."

But Adaliya wasn't convinced. She remembered the years when his health had been fragile, and the way his illness had dictated so many aspects of his life. She gave him a long, skeptical look, but Nathaniel only waved her off.

"Come on," he said, still smiling. "Twi or three glasses won't kill me."

Adaliya sighed but didn't press him further. If Nathaniel was pushing himself, there was little she could do to stop him. He'd always been stubborn, always brushing off concerns with a cool exterior, pretending that everything was fine even when it wasn't. She knew there were parts of his life-his health, especially-that he wasn't telling her about. But for tonight, she decided to let it go.

They ended up talking for hours, time slipping away as the conversation ebbed and flowed between light banter and deeper, more meaningful moments. Nathaniel recounted stories of his work, his business dealings, and the Donovan legacy he was tasked with managing. He avoided the darker sides of his responsibilities, but there was enough between the lines for Adaliya to understand that his life had not been easy. Despite the wealth and luxury, he was carrying the weight of expectations that had been placed on him since birth.

As the night wore on, Adaliya found herself loosening up as well. The tension from earlier had mostly faded, replaced by an old familiarity between them. She had missed this-their conversations, the way they used to talk about everything and nothing all at once. But there was still an undercurrent of unease, a shared understanding that they hadn't yet resolved the years of pain that lay between them.

At one point, she excused herself to use the restroom, leaving Nathaniel alone in the living room. When she returned a few minutes later, she stopped in her tracks, surprised to find him sprawled out on the couch, completely knocked out.

Adaliya couldn't help but smile, despite everything. He looked peaceful in his sleep, his long limbs stretched out across her small couch, his face finally relaxed after what seemed like days of tension. But as she approached, she noticed his shoes were still on, along with his jacket and tie, and she winced at the thought of him sleeping uncomfortably in those.

Shaking her head, she knelt down beside him, carefully removing his shoes and setting them aside. Next, she tugged off his jacket, trying not to wake him as she draped it over the armrest. His tie was slightly askew, and after a moment of hesitation, she gently loosened it, sliding it off so he could breathe easier.

As she stood back, she looked at him again. Nathaniel, in this moment, didn't seem like the powerful businessman he had become, nor the boy who had disappeared from her life all those years ago. He was just... Nathaniel. The man she had once loved, and maybe still did, though that love was now tangled in a mess of hurt, anger, and confusion.

For a brief moment, Adaliya felt the weight of everything they had been through crash over her. She thought about all the nights she had spent wondering what had happened to him, why he had left her behind, and if he ever thought about her the way she had thought about him. And now, here he was, passed out on her couch after a night of catching up and reminiscing.

Adaliya let out a soft sigh, running a hand through her fizzy braids. She knew that tomorrow would bring more questions, more emotions to sort through. But for tonight, she was content to let him rest. After all, he looked like he needed it.

She found a spare blanket in her closet and draped it over him, watching as his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. He stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn't wake. As she stood there, a part of her wanted to reach out, to touch his face or his hair, just to remind herself that he was really here-that this wasn't some dream.

But instead, she turned away and headed toward her own room, leaving Nathaniel to sleep off the wine and the exhaustion that had finally caught up to him.