Chapter 28: Adrain
1368 Words
I woke before Jude did.
For several minutes, I simply lay there, watching the soft rise and fall of his breathing.
He looked peaceful.
His face was relaxed, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, sunlight just beginning to spill across the bed.
He had fallen asleep smiling.
After our anniversary.
After asking me one simple question.
“What do you think about us having a baby?”
I’d promised him an answer.
Instead…
Morning arrived before my thoughts had untangled themselves.
Carefully, I brushed my fingers through his hair.
His eyes fluttered open almost immediately.
“Morning,” he whispered.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
He smiled sleepily.
“You’ve been awake for a while.”
“I have.”
“Still thinking?”
A small smile tugged at my lips.
“I told you I’d sleep on it.”
“Did sleeping help?”
“A little.”
He nodded, completely unbothered.
“We don’t have to talk about it before work.”
Relief settled quietly in my chest.
“Thank you.”
He leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
“Take your time.”
“I trust you.”
Those three words stayed with me long after we’d left the house.
⸻
We kissed goodbye outside.
He climbed into his car.
I climbed into mine.
For a moment we simply looked at each other through our windows.
Then he smiled.
Waved.
And drove away.
I watched until his car disappeared around the corner.
Only then did I head towards the office.
⸻
I accomplished almost nothing all morning.
Three reports remained unread.
Two meetings blurred together.
Someone asked me for a decision, and I realised I hadn’t heard a single word they’d said.
My mind kept drifting.
Not to contracts.
Not to work.
To Jude.
And to the future.
A child.
The idea should have filled me with uncomplicated happiness.
Jude would be extraordinary.
He was patient.
Gentle.
Kind in ways the world rarely deserved.
I could already imagine him reading bedtime stories with dramatic voices.
Helping with homework.
Teaching a little one compassion simply by the way he lived.
He would be an incredible father.
That wasn’t what frightened me.
The fear lived somewhere much smaller.
Much quieter.
I leaned back in my office chair and looked out across the city.
What if everything changed?
Not because children were burdens.
Because they changed the rhythm of a family.
Right now…
If Jude finished a long shift and wanted to collapse on the sofa, I was there.
If I suggested an unplanned weekend away, we packed our bags.
If he wanted to spend an hour talking about difficult patients, I listened.
Our time belonged to each other.
A child would naturally need so much of him.
And that was exactly as it should be.
Yet an irrational corner of my heart whispered something I was almost ashamed to admit.
What if you stop being his first choice?
I closed my eyes.
The thought sounded childish.
Possessive.
Unfair.
Love wasn’t a competition.
I knew that.
A parent didn’t love their spouse less because they loved their child.
Love expanded.
It didn’t divide.
I understood that with my mind.
My heart was slower to catch up.
I laughed quietly to myself.
“So this is what you’re afraid of.”
Not fatherhood.
Not responsibility.
Change.
Losing the little world that belonged only to the two of us.
⸻
By late afternoon, my thoughts had become clearer.
Not perfect.
But clearer.
The truth was…
I did want children.
One day.
Just…
Not yet.
Not because I doubted our future.
Because I cherished our present.
We had fought hard for the peace we’d found again.
Our marriage was only a year old.
There were still places we wanted to travel.
Quiet mornings to share.
Lazy Sundays.
Spontaneous holidays.
Years of learning each other in ways that had nothing to do with parenthood.
There was no need to rush.
Especially when Jude’s pregnancy, as a male omega, could come with additional medical considerations. We would want the right specialists, careful planning, and time to prepare together.
That deserved thought.
Not haste.
⸻
When I arrived home, Jude was waiting for me in the sitting room with two mugs of tea already prepared.
He looked up the moment I walked in.
His smile was hopeful.
Not anxious.
Simply patient.
“I made your favourite.”
I accepted the mug.
“Thank you.”
We sat together on the sofa.
For a few minutes we spoke about ordinary things.
His day at the hospital.
Mine at the office.
Then the conversation naturally quietened.
Jude looked at me.
“So…”
“The question.”
I nodded.
“I’ve thought about it all day.”
He waited.
Never rushing me.
Never interrupting.
One of the many reasons I loved him.
“I do want children.”
His eyes brightened.
“Someday.”
He squeezed my hand gently.
“Okay.”
“I just don’t think we’re ready yet.”
He listened carefully.
“I think our marriage is still young.”
“We’ve only just found our rhythm again.”
“I want more evenings like last night.”
“More ordinary mornings.”
“More trips.”
“More memories that belong to just us before we become responsible for someone else’s.”
I smiled softly.
“I don’t want to rush into something so important simply because we can.”
“I want us to enjoy being husband and husband for a while longer.”
His expression softened into understanding.
“I was thinking about that too.”
“You were?”
He nodded.
“We’ve spent so much of this year learning each other.”
“I’d like more of that.”
He smiled.
“And if we decide to have a baby one day…”
He rested his head lightly against my shoulder.
“I want us to go into it rested.”
“Confident.”
“Ready.”
I kissed the top of his head.
“Exactly.”
He was quiet for a moment before speaking again.
“And…”
He gave a small, thoughtful smile.
“My doctors have already told me that if I ever become pregnant, we’d probably want to plan it carefully.”
“So…”
He shrugged lightly.
“We have time.”
“No need to rush.”
His calm acceptance filled me with gratitude.
No disappointment.
No pressure.
Just understanding.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For trusting me enough to let us decide together.”
He looked up at me.
“That’s what marriage is.”
“Not getting every answer immediately.”
“Getting there together.”
I laughed softly.
“I think you’re wiser than I am.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Oh?”
“You have a reputation to maintain.”
“Is that so?”
“The terrifying billionaire.”
“I don’t think anyone who watches you cut my sandwiches into triangles would believe that.”
I groaned dramatically.
“I’ve created my own downfall.”
“You absolutely have.”
His laughter filled the room.
Warm.
Easy.
Uncomplicated.
The conversation drifted naturally to other things after that—holiday ideas, a concert one of them wanted to attend, and whether they should finally take the cooking class they’d been postponing for months.
The question of children hadn’t disappeared.
It had simply found its proper place.
Not as a problem.
Not as a disagreement.
Just a dream they would return to when the time felt right.
That night, as we settled into bed, Jude curled instinctively against my side.
I wrapped an arm around him.
He looked up at me sleepily.
“I love our little family.”
I smiled.
“So do I.”
For now…
Our little family was enough.
And as I kissed his forehead goodnight, I silently promised myself that whenever our family grew, it would be because we both stepped into that new chapter with open hearts—not because either of us felt hurried there.
Tomorrow could wait.
Tonight, I was simply grateful to fall asleep beside the man I loved.
- Writer
