His name was Nathaniel

115

It started slowly.

At first, it was the way Adaliya yawned more often during meetings, her once tireless focus now fogged over by drowsiness. Then came the aversions—her favorite coffee suddenly repulsed her, the smell of certain perfumes made her dizzy, and she found herself dry-heaving one morning after opening the fridge and catching the scent of leftover garlic pasta.

Nathaniel noticed everything.

And for once, he didn't just observe—he responded.

Without a word, he began making her mint tea before bed. He swapped their regular laundry detergent for a scent-free one. He set reminders in his phone for her supplements and tracked every snack she started craving.

But one morning, as she stood in the bathroom brushing her teeth, the nausea hit hard.

Nathaniel was shaving when he saw her freeze, her hand flying to her mouth as she turned to the sink. He didn't hesitate.

He put down the razor and rushed to her side, grabbing a towel and pulling her hair gently back. His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles on her back.

She was too embarrassed to meet his gaze at first, but when she finally did, she was startled to see how calm he looked.

"I'm okay," she said hoarsely.

"I know," he replied softly. "Still not letting you go through it alone."

That sentence stuck with her all day.

⸻

Later that evening, Adaliya lay curled up on the couch, bundled in a thick blanket with a hot water bottle on her belly. Her feet rested on Nathaniel's lap as he scrolled through emails half-heartedly, one hand absentmindedly massaging her ankles.

She watched him for a while—how his brows furrowed when he read something complicated, how he muttered under his breath, how his fingers tensed and relaxed with each line he skimmed.

"You're staring," he said, without looking up.

"I'm allowed," she murmured. "I'm carrying your child."

He smirked and finally glanced down at her, setting his phone aside. "That's a strong argument."

She shifted, resting her head on the pillow more comfortably. "I feel like a bloated marshmallow."

Nathaniel leaned down and kissed the side of her knee. "You look like my wife. Still perfect."

She rolled her eyes.

Without speaking, he slid closer and gently lifted her shirt to reveal her lower belly. It still looked soft and barely changed, but to Nathaniel, it felt entirely new.

He traced his fingers lightly across her skin, marveling at it like it was glass.

"Can I...?" he asked.

She nodded.

He pressed his lips gently to her stomach. "Hi, little one," he whispered. "Your mom is amazing. You're going to figure that out real quick."

Adaliya's heart swelled.

He kept his hand resting there as if protecting something sacred.

"I'm scared," he said suddenly. "Still."

She turned her head toward him.

"But I think..." He paused, swallowing. "I think I'm more excited now. It's terrifying and beautiful and overwhelming, and I want to do it right."

"You will," she said softly.

"I don't know how long I'll be around," he admitted, "but whatever time we get—I want it to be full of laughter, and beach walks, and middle-of-the-night baby cries, and soft socks, and... life."

She blinked away the tears that gathered.

"We'll have all of that," she whispered. "Every bit of it."

That night, they didn't make love. They just laid together, Nathaniel's hand never once leaving her stomach, and for the first time, his dreams weren't filled with fear—only hope.