His name was Nathaniel

119

The restaurant Nathaniel had chosen was nestled quietly along the riverbank—a low-lit, warm space with velvet-lined booths, muted jazz, and just enough elegance to feel private without being ostentatious.

He'd rented the entire top floor. Not because he wanted to show off—but because tonight meant too much to be interrupted by flashing cameras or wandering eyes.

A long table stretched across the room, elegantly set with white linen and dim candles. The guests had begun arriving in staggered waves: Violet, vibrant as ever in a sleek maroon dress with both her parents, followed by Jace in a slightly-too-loose suit, nervously adjusting his collar. Then came Lola and her parents—her father all smiles, and her mother, poised and regal, offering Nathaniel a short nod of acknowledgment.

Adaliya's parents were next, her mother already fussing with the centerpiece, and then—fashionably late as always—Edward Donovan entered, accompanied by Nathaniel's grandfather, who had clearly been the one keeping his son company until now.

If the atmosphere was slightly stiff at first, no one said so aloud.

Nathaniel and Adaliya stood at the head of the table, greeting each guest with practiced warmth. She looked stunning in a dark green wrap dress that hugged her subtly changing figure, her hair swept back into soft waves. Nathaniel, in all black, stayed close to her side all evening, hand resting lightly at her back, as if anchoring her to the ground.

Dinner began smoothly.

Wine was poured, polite laughter exchanged, and courses began to arrive one by one—each plate a quiet distraction from the slowly building anticipation Nathaniel was feeling like a drumbeat behind his ribs.

Because most of them didn't know.

Not officially.

Only his grandfather, Edward, and Adaliya's mother had been told in private. Everyone else still thought they were gathering for a family-style celebration—maybe an anniversary of some kind, or some "executive decision" that warranted the presence of both sides of their world.

Conversation floated from harmless gossip to soft debates about travel and food—until Violet, who had been watching both Nathaniel and Adaliya like a hawk all evening, finally narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.

"Okay," she said with a grin. "I can't take it anymore. There's something going on. And if someone doesn't spill, I'm going to start guessing very loudly."

Lola snorted into her wine. "Seconded."

Jace, looking a little panicked, straightened his tie. "Wait—should I know what's going on? Did I miss a memo?"

Nathaniel chuckled, but it was the kind of laugh that came from nerves. He cleared his throat and stood, raising his glass slightly.

Everyone quieted, eyes turning to him.

He looked at Adaliya, who was already watching him with a soft, encouraging smile. He reached out for her hand and pulled her gently up beside him.

"I, uh..." Nathaniel looked around the table, meeting each familiar face. "We wanted to bring you all together because you're the most important people in our lives. Our friends, our family, the people we trust."

There were nods, soft smiles, even a curious glance from Violets mother.

"I know we don't always say it, but we're grateful. For every one of you," Nathaniel continued. Then, turning slightly toward Adaliya, he took her hand again. "And it's because of that trust and closeness... that we want to share something special tonight."

He paused.

The words caught in his throat. Not because he didn't want to say them—but because he was afraid of what they meant, of what they promised.