His name was Nathaniel

112

The sunlight filtered softly through the gauzy curtains, warming the ivory sheets wrapped loosely around the two of them. For once, Nathaniel was the one who got to sleep in. His body was still tangled in sleep when the soft sounds of rustling clothes and light footsteps stirred him.

"Leaving me already?" he mumbled, eyes still closed.

Adaliya laughed under her breath. "Someone has to work. Your Majesty has the morning off."

He cracked one eye open, the sight of her slipping on her blouse lighting a sleepy grin across his face. "I could fake a business emergency."

She leaned over, kissing his forehead. "You'll survive a few hours without me."

He hummed, eyes fluttering closed again. "Unlikely."

By the time Nathaniel rolled out of bed and had his coffee, the apartment was silent again. But instead of going over his usual reports or pacing through a meeting on his phone, he stood by the window for a while, watching the world below.

His mind wandered, heavy with thoughts that hadn't left him since he found the pregnancy test in that small birthday box.

Eventually, he grabbed his coat and keys, deciding on a visit that felt overdue.

⸻

His grandfather was pleasantly surprised when the door opened to reveal Nathaniel standing on the steps.

"Well," the older man said with a grin, "this is rare. I usually get a text at most, now that you're married."

"I figured I owed you something better than that."

They moved inside, the house filled with the familiar scent of books and fresh coffee.

"Fancy a round of golf?" his grandfather offered as they stepped into the lounge.

Nathaniel gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Not today. I'm not really in the mood for chasing balls in the cold."

His grandfather raised an eyebrow as he poured himself a glass of water, then motioned to the armchair across from him. "You alright?"

Nathaniel hesitated, standing in the middle of the room as if frozen. His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, jaw tense.

"Something's wrong."

Nathaniel exhaled slowly and finally lowered himself into the chair. "Yeah... there is."

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and stared down at his hands. "I, uh... I haven't told anyone else yet."

His grandfather looked at him, waiting patiently.

"It's about Adaliya."

A pause.

His grandfather frowned. "Did something happen?"

"No, no. She's okay," Nathaniel said quickly, then cleared his throat. "She's... pregnant."

There was a beat of silence.

And then—

"Wait, what?" The older man's eyes widened. "You're having a baby?"

Nathaniel nodded slowly, still staring at the floor.

A grin split across his grandfather's face, the kind that rarely appeared without good reason. "That's-Nathaniel, that's incredible!"

But Nathaniel didn't smile.

His grandfather's joy faltered, and he leaned forward. "Why do you look like someone just told you you're dying?"

Nathaniel laughed bitterly. "Because that's kind of what it feels like."

Confused, his grandfather studied him closely.

"I'm terrified," Nathaniel whispered.

His hands curled into fists. "I've known for a while now that my condition wouldn't let me grow old. I've accepted that. Or at least, I thought I did."

He inhaled shakily, and when he looked up, his eyes were red.

"But now... there's her. And this child. And suddenly I have everything I ever wanted and all I can think is—I'm going to leave them."

His voice cracked. "I'm going to die, Grandpa. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but it's coming. And she'll have to raise our child alone. And I—"

Nathaniel choked on the words as they caught in his throat.

"I don't want her to wake up one day and look at our child and see me in their face and feel grief instead of love. I don't want to give her a future that ends with a funeral."

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of Nathaniel's ragged breathing.

His grandfather sat still for a long moment, heart breaking at the sight of his grandson unraveling.

"Son," he said finally, his voice softer than usual, "you've always carried more weight than anyone your age should have to. And I know you. I know your heart. You're trying to protect her. To protect that baby."

Nathaniel turned away, his shoulders shaking.

"But you can't protect them by shutting them out," his grandfather continued. "Love doesn't work like that. And being afraid—being human—doesn't make you weak."

"I just..." Nathaniel croaked, burying his face in his hands. "I don't want to miss their first steps. I don't want to miss birthdays, or graduations, or the nights they cry and need their dad. I don't want to be a memory."

His grandfather rose from his seat, moving to kneel in front of him. He gripped Nathaniel's hands tightly.

"You're not a memory. Not yet. You're here. Now. And that means something."

Nathaniel shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I'm not ready to let go of this life."

"You don't have to."

The two sat there, surrounded by years of history and legacy, and for once, none of it mattered—not the company, not the name, not the empire.

Only one thing mattered.

Nathaniel was going to be a father.

And he was scared to death.