𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘: Bronny James

48

2026

Sophia's POV:

It's now late February, and honestly... life feels a lot different than it did just a few months ago.

So much has happened since November. We're officially in 2026 now, and I've had to press pause on a lot of things, starting with school. I decided to take the spring semester off at USC so I could fully focus on getting ready for the baby. It wasn't an easy decision at first. I've always been that straight-A, keep-it-pushing student who hated falling behind—but something about carrying my son made everything else take a back seat. This little boy growing inside me needed me first. So I gave myself permission to slow down.

At first, I thought slowing down would feel like I was failing, but honestly, it gave me room to breathe. To plan. To heal.

One of the biggest surprises during these last few months has been reconnecting with my parents. After I told them I was pregnant, they were... disappointed, to say the least. We barely talked for months. I cried a lot back then, wishing they would just see me and understand where my heart was. But with time—and maybe with seeing how serious Bronny and I really are—they came around.

We had a long talk over the phone in December. My mom cried. My dad apologized. And now... they're involved. They've even helped with nursery ideas and baby names. It feels like I got my parents back. They're excited to meet their grandson.

And speaking of big plans—Bronny and I have been working on something else, too: our wedding.

After everything that's happened in the past year—the ups, the heartbreak, the surprises, the love—we both agreed we didn't want a big, fancy, over-the-top wedding. We didn't want to do it for show. We just wanted it to be real, calm, and full of love. So we set a date: July 2026. Right in the middle of summer.

The plan is simple: a small, intimate ceremony with just the James and Harris families and a few close friends. No bridesmaids. No groomsmen. Just Angeline by my side as my maid of honor—because there's no one else I'd want standing next to me—and Bryce as Bronny's best man, which honestly makes perfect sense. They've grown so close, and Bryce has been such a steady presence throughout all of this.

And of course, Zhuri will be our flower girl. She's already been practicing how to toss petals in the living room. She takes it very seriously and even made me promise her that I'd let her wear sparkly shoes with her dress. I told her yes before she even finished the sentence.

Everything is slowly coming together. The dress shopping. The venue (we picked a beautiful garden just outside of LA). The guest list that's barely even two pages long. It's exactly how we want it.

Some days I still wake up and can't believe this is my life now—engaged to someone I love deeply, pregnant with our first child, finally finding peace in places that once made me feel so small.

It's not perfect. I still get nervous about motherhood, and there are days where I miss the old version of me that wasn't so tired all the time. But when I feel my son kick or when Bronny kisses my belly and talks to him like he's already here, I remember that this version of my life is full of love. And that's enough for me.

For now, I'm just taking it one day at a time. Preparing for our son. Counting down the weeks to July. And staying close to the people who matter most.

•••

Bronny's POV:

I had never been more scared in my life.

I stood right next to Sophia, holding her hand tighter than I ever had before. She was lying back in the hospital bed, sweat dripping down her forehead, her face scrunched in pain. Her other hand gripped the side rail like she was hanging on for dear life. Dr. Porter was standing between her legs, calm and focused, giving instructions as the nurses moved around the room.

"Alright, Sophia, you're doing amazing," Dr. Porter said, glancing up at her. "One more big push. We're almost there."

Sophia let out another scream—this one louder than the last. Her hand squeezed mine so tight I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. But I didn't care. She was in the middle of the hardest thing she'd ever done, and the only thing I could do was be here, right next to her.

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face and caressed her forehead. "You got this, babe. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded, eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. "It hurts," she cried, her voice cracking. "Oh my God, Bronny, it hurts so bad—"

"I know, I know," I whispered, trying not to cry myself. "But you're almost there. He's almost here."

The next push came hard. Sophia screamed so loud it echoed around the room, but she kept going. Her strength was insane. I watched, helpless and amazed, as she gave everything she had.

And then—

A loud cry filled the room. Tiny, raw, and real.

My heart stopped.

"There he is," Dr. Porter said with a smile, gently lifting our son up and placing him on Sophia's chest. "You did it. He's here."

Sophia burst into tears as soon as she saw him. I could barely see through my own.

Our baby boy was here.

The nurses wiped him down gently with a soft towel and used a bulb syringe to clear out his nose and mouth. His skin was pink and a little wrinkled, but perfect. His little hands were flailing around and his tiny mouth was wide open, crying like he was announcing himself to the whole world.

I leaned down and kissed Sophia's forehead again. "You did it," I whispered. "You really did it."

She looked up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We did it."

I looked down at him—our son—lying on her chest, his cries slowing as he felt her heartbeat under him.

"Hi, Bryson," I said, my voice shaking.

Yeah. We had already decided on the name months ago.

Bryson LeBron James.

After his uncle Bryce. After me. After my dad.

Three generations of James men all wrapped up in this tiny, brand-new life.

I reached out and gently touched his back, feeling the warmth of his skin. He was so small. So real. And somehow, already everything.

Sophia looked down at him with the kind of love I couldn't even describe. She was glowing, even through the exhaustion and tears. She kept whispering his name over and over again, like she was trying to make sure he knew it already.

"Hi, Bryson... Hi, baby..."

The room was still busy around us—nurses checking vitals, Dr. Porter giving more instructions—but to me, time froze. It was just me, Sophia, and Bryson in that moment.

My family.

I had spent the last few months preparing to be a dad, but nothing could've prepared me for the way it felt to see him here, breathing, crying, living.

And just like that, my whole world changed.

END OF CHAPTER 48.