His name was Nathaniel

118

By the time Nathaniel reached their penthouse, the sun had already sunk below the city skyline, casting long golden streaks across the floor-to-ceiling windows. The lights of the city blinked beneath him like restless stars, but all Nathaniel could feel was the tightness in his chest.

He entered quietly.

The familiar scent of vanilla and bergamot greeted him, and so did the muffled hum of the dishwasher in the background. But the apartment felt too still, too muted—like it was waiting to absorb his mood.

He shrugged off his coat and set his briefcase on the table before noticing the soft sound of movement down the hall.

Adaliya.

She appeared from the bedroom just as he turned, her hair tied up loosely, wearing one of his sweaters over a pair of leggings. She looked comfortable... but tired. Not the kind of tired a long workday gave you—something deeper, heavier.

She smiled softly when she saw him. "You're home earlier than I thought."

"Left the office early." His voice was even, but his jaw was still tight.

She tilted her head, walking closer. "Long day?"

Nathaniel hesitated. "My father came by."

That was all he said.

And it was enough.

Adaliya's brows drew together. "What did he want?"

"To remind me of the blood in my veins. And to remind me what he thinks that entitles him to."

She didn't ask more. Not yet. She simply reached for his hand and guided him to the couch.

"Sit," she said gently.

He did.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Nathaniel's fingers were still trembling slightly, even as they rested against the cushion. He hadn't realized how much effort it had taken to keep himself from snapping entirely back at the boardroom. But the moment he was with her again, the weight in his shoulders became unbearable.

"I told him," he said suddenly.

Adaliya turned. "Told him what?"

"That you're pregnant." He exhaled slowly, hands covering his face. "Not directly. He guessed. Pushed. And I gave him exactly what he wanted."

Her eyes softened, but her voice remained calm. "It's okay."

"It's not," Nathaniel muttered. "He's already talking about inheritance and legacy and tutoring schedules. As if the baby's already been written into his damn will."

Adaliya shifted closer. "And you told him no."

He looked at her. "Of course I did."

"Then that's all that matters."

But Nathaniel shook his head. "He doesn't see people, Adaliya. He sees assets. He sees heirs. He sees tools. And I know he's going to try and shape our child into something cold—like him."

She took his hand. "Then we protect them. Together."

Nathaniel closed his eyes for a moment, her words grounding him. He took a breath.

But then—Adaliya's grip on his hand suddenly loosened.

He looked over and saw the color drain from her face.

"Adaliya?"

She blinked fast, then pressed a hand to her temple. "I'm okay. I just... got a little dizzy."

Immediately, Nathaniel moved closer, helping her lean back into the cushions. "Did you eat enough today?"

"I did," she murmured. "I think I stood up too fast earlier. It passed."

He didn't speak.

He simply knelt down beside the couch, brushing her hair away from her face, examining her with quiet urgency.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," he muttered under his breath. "The stress, the long days, the pressure..."

"Nathaniel," she said gently, placing a hand over his.

He looked up.

"I'm okay," she repeated.

He let out a long breath and rested his forehead lightly against her knee.

"I'm trying so hard not to break," he whispered.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, cradling him like he was the one in need of comforting.

"I know," she whispered. "But you're not breaking. You're bending—for me. For us."

He looked up at her again, and there was something raw in his eyes. Something honest.

He reached up and placed his hand gently over her belly.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted. "But I want to learn."

Adaliya leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Then that's enough."

He rested his head in her lap, eyes fluttering closed, while she stroked his hair in the quiet.

And for a little while, they said nothing.

But everything was understood.

⸻