His name was Nathaniel

120

The morning started like any other. A low hum of music floated through the apartment, the scent of herbal tea mingling with faint notes of toasted bread, and Nathaniel had already begun organizing his day on the kitchen island. His schedule was full, yet again—back-to-back meetings, internal briefings, and a call with one of their Hong Kong investors.

But his eyes kept flicking over to the hallway.

Adaliya was taking longer than usual.

He tapped his pen against his planner, glanced at the time again, then finally set everything down and walked toward their bedroom. The door was cracked slightly, and inside, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

"Is it the cramps again?" he asked, already kneeling in front of her.

She smiled weakly. "No. I just feel off. Dizzy... and a little sick."

"You're pale," he muttered, brushing the hair from her face.

"I didn't sleep much."

Nathaniel exhaled. "Maybe you should stay home today."

"I can't. I've already moved a deadline twice this week, and you know how things are ramping up. I'll be fine. Really."

He didn't argue—but he didn't like it either.

"Text me the second you feel worse. I mean it, Adaliya."

She kissed his cheek and promised she would.

But neither of them expected how quickly things would unravel.

—

By mid-afternoon, Nathaniel was halfway through his fourth meeting when his phone buzzed with a text from Violet. At first, he almost ignored it, but something made him glance.

Are you with Adaliya?

His brows pulled together. He texted back:

No, why?

The typing bubble popped up, disappeared. Then reappeared again.

She fainted. At work. One of her coworkers called me, I was closer than you.

Nathaniel didn't finish reading.

He stood abruptly, muttering a quick "Reschedule this" to Jace, and was already moving toward the elevator before anyone could react. His heart thudded against his ribs like a war drum.

She had fainted?

He'd just watched her walk out the door with that soft smile on her face, promising she was fine. And now she was passed out at work?

By the time he reached her office, she was already in the break room, sitting on the couch with a cold compress on her head, a half-drunk bottle of water beside her. Violet stood nearby, arms crossed, watching over her like a hawk.

Adaliya looked up groggily the moment Nathaniel entered. "Oh no."

Nathaniel ignored everyone in the room and knelt beside her.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely controlled. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," she said quickly. "I was just lightheaded. It was hot. And crowded. I—"

"You passed out."

"Briefly."

Nathaniel stood, turning to Violet. "Did she hit her head?"

"No. One of the assistants caught her. But Nathaniel, she—"

"That's it," he said sharply, turning back to Adaliya. "You're done."

She blinked. "What?"

"You're not working anymore."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Nathaniel was already pulling out his phone. "I'll inform HR. We'll set up temporary leave. Full pay. I'll bring in your projects under my department until you're ready. But this? This can't happen again."

Adaliya stood up slowly, gripping the armrest of the couch to steady herself. "Nathaniel, you're overreacting—"

"I'm protecting you!"

"You're panicking," she corrected gently.

"Because you passed out in the middle of your office!"

"I stood up too fast. I was dehydrated. I hadn't eaten. It's pregnancy, not the plague."

He stared at her like she'd just told him to jump off a cliff. "You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it," she said firmly, squaring her shoulders. "I love my work. I'm not ready to give it up. You don't get to make that decision for me just because you're scared."

His mouth opened to argue—but nothing came out.

The quiet was thick between them.

Violet wisely stepped outside, giving them space.

Nathaniel's voice dropped, strained and low. "I can't lose you."

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

She walked closer, resting her hand on his chest. "You think I don't carry that same fear? Every time I see your face tighten with pain, or when you forget to eat, or when I catch you holding your side because the stress is too much—I worry too, Nathaniel."

Her voice softened. "But we can't wrap each other in glass. That's not love. That's fear in disguise."

He closed his eyes, head bowed.

"I'll reduce my hours," she said. "I'll check in with my doctor twice a week if that's what you need. I'll nap like an overgrown cat every afternoon. But I won't quit. Not now."

He nodded slowly, defeated by how fiercely right she was.

Later that evening, back in the safety of their home, Nathaniel helped her out of her shoes and massaged her feet, kneeling beside her like a penitent man at the altar of his own mistakes.

She smiled at him, running her fingers through his hair. "You're going to be such a dramatic dad."

He kissed her ankle and murmured, "I just want to make sure you both make it to the end."

And for a long while, neither of them spoke again.

Because some promises didn't need to be said twice.

⸻