His name was Nathaniel

123

The mornings were starting to get dangerous.

Nathaniel had learned to approach his pregnant wife with caution—especially before she'd had her tea or if she was wearing one of his oversized shirts.

That particular morning, he stepped out of the bathroom mid-yawn, hair slightly damp from the shower, towel slung loosely around his hips, only to find Adaliya standing by the bed... absolutely staring at him.

Not subtly.

Not even pretending to glance.

"Do I... have something on my face?" he asked cautiously.

"No," she said, blinking once—then twice. "No, I was just... admiring. Or mentally undressing you. I'm not sure anymore."

He laughed, crossing to grab a pair of sweatpants. "That's new."

"It's not," she muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed and letting her eyes trail over him again. "It's been happening every day for the last two weeks. And I swear I'm going crazy. Every time you walk past me. Every time you so much as breathe near me. My body goes into full protest."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, tugging his shirt on. "Protest?"

"As in: I want you. Constantly. And we haven't done anything since I got pregnant."

He stilled.

"You said you were tired," he reminded her gently. "And nauseous. And sore."

"I was. Now I'm just... cursed with unsatisfied hormones and a painfully attractive husband."

He gave a short laugh, walked over, and tilted her chin up with two fingers. "Say the word."

"I'm trying to behave."

His lips brushed hers. "That's new."

Before anything could escalate, her phone buzzed with a message from Violet, and she groaned. "They're coming over."

He pulled away reluctantly. "Rain check?"

She pouted. "We'll see."

—

Violet and Lola arrived less than an hour later, carrying color-coded binders, four tote bags, and enough excitement to power a small city.

Nathaniel, already sensing chaos, left them to it—but not before slipping Violet his black card, with a simple, half-serious warning: "Don't buy a zoo."

Lola had nearly cried. "You trust us this much?"

"No," he said. "But I trust my wife."

And with that, he left them squealing and plotting in the living room while Adaliya prepared a tray of snacks and tried not to get overwhelmed.

They'd asked her weeks ago if they could help plan a baby shower. She thought they meant a cute backyard baby shower. She didn't know she was funding a minor royal event.

Still, she handed over the sealed envelope—the one her doctor had scribbled the gender on—and tried not to think too much about it.

She wanted the surprise. She really did.

But now she was slightly terrified.

—

The morning of the baby shower, the entire greenhouse had been transformed into a soft pastel dreamscape.

Dozens of baby-blue and pink balloons floated in cascading arches along the ceiling. Golden fairy lights were woven into trellises of eucalyptus and roses. A massive silk-curtained box stood at the far end of the room—inside of which, apparently, was the long-awaited gender reveal surprise.