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mauvecherie-writes · 4 days ago

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What a chappttteerrr! It’s looking like there’s gonna be a lottt of drama coming up!

C H A P T E R — O N E

Summary: Akira gets the news of a lifetime. Her sheltered world comes crumbling down when her father lays down the law: she’s leaving her family.

Warnings: strong language, breeding kink, heavy smut, strong violence, angst, parallel polyandry relationships, omegaverse, a/b/o, slow burn, trauma/healing themes, abusive family.

WC: 6,042

“Akira! You’re needed in the family room!”

Looking up from the kitchen sink, Akira placed the last dish on the drying rack before wiping her hands dry and heading to the family room. It wasn’t uncommon for her family to have multiple meetings throughout the week, being that her family represented the largest black community of werewolves. Nearly all of her siblings were alphas, with the exception of her second oldest sister, Naomi, a coveted beta, and she, an unpresented human. It wasn’t uncommon for humans and werewolves to mate, even if that’s not how werewolves came to be, like most people thought. All it took was the bite of one rabid wolf thousands of years ago and mankind as you know it became the bitten and the unbitten. Though urges have tamed over the years due to the mixing of humans and werewolves, there hasn’t been a single incident of animalistic behavior towards the humans. What exactly did this have to do with Akira Baptiste? Somewhere in the lineage of the Baptiste family, a werewolf mated with a human and now the family is convinced that the recessive gene skipped over to her, leaving Akira as the only human within the family.

“You called for me, father?” Akira stood near the entrance of the open family room. Try as they might, they tried not to ‘other’ Akira too much. Throughout the expanding twenty acre compound, Akira was able to roam freely from den to den, visiting her siblings and other family members bordering the area. She babysat like a good aunt that she is, and often took care of her grandmother at her cottage in the center of the compound—the heart, if you will. Still, in the back of Akira’s mind, she knew she would always be treated differently than the rest of her siblings. Differently from her aunts and uncles and cousins too. “Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not Akira, don’t be silly.” Her oldest sister, Justine, laughed. Akira pouted, looking down at her nails. Her father Joseph sighed, “We called you because we have some news. As you know, we’re getting older and soon, one of the boys will be heading the family in my leadership role within the community.” Akira nodded, listening intently, “Bottom line, you’re going to have to find your pack soon.”

Perplexed, Akira blinked rapidly, “What do you mean, I thought you’re my pack?!”

“We’re your familial pack, yes,” her mother, Miriam, started, “But you’ll have to leave the nest soon. Your father and I will be too old to continue to take care of you, you’re an adult now Akira.” She frowned.

“But, but—,” Akira stuttered, “What about everything I do around the house? Who’s gonna babysit the kids? Who’s gonna take care of grandmother??” Akira fretted, looking around the room at all her siblings. No one spoke, and truly, they didn’t need to. When their father made the decision, it was final. “Won’t you need my help?”

“Well that’s the thing, we’ll be taking care of mother from now on, as well as the kids.” Miriam chirped, “We feel that it’s time you stand on your own two feet, Akira. You’re 26, it’s time—.”

“You’re being presented to the highest pack leaders within the four regions this coming Friday. One of them will be your new pack leader, let’s just be grateful that they’re willing to take a human into their pack at all.” Joseph interrupted. Devastation coated Akira’s face as she stumbled against the archway of the room. It wasn’t a secret that, although it’s not illegal or frowned upon, being human within a werewolf community is taboo. While they are the majority in popular areas of the country, within Smeraldo Valley, the moderate town was coveted by werewolves only. “Don’t be dramatic Akira, it won’t be bad.” Joseph muttered sternly. Immediately, Akira straightened her body and bowed her head, “Of course not, father, I apologize.”

Akira wanted to trust her father’s words, but she wasn’t so sure.

“Akira, I understand you were upset about your father’s decision?”

Akira softly ran her brush through her grandmother’s silvery mane as she got her ready for the day. Now that she knew of her family’s plans to get rid of her, Akira spent the majority of the week moping. While she packed her things, the few of them that there was, she thought about who it was her parents would pawn her off to. Meeting with the leaders of the most prominent packs in Smeraldo Valley meant that her father’s decision was real, and that there was no way out of it. It would look bad if she asked to live among the humans, otherwise Akira would’ve offered up that solution.

“I just…what did I do to be sent away?” Akira’s frown suddenly deepened and her grandmother, sensing her distress, cooed at her as Akira knelt down near her side. Placing her head in her lap, Genevieve patted Akira’s head with a sigh, “I will admit, out of all my grandchildren, you are the one that mostly makes the effort to take care of me. But think of it as not the family punishing you, but as an opportunity to better your surroundings.” Akira pulled away, ignoring the tears that ran down your plump cheeks as her grandmother swept them away, “You will be well cared for.”

“I’m not worried about being cared for.” Akira frowned, “Who’s gonna look after you? What if it’s all an act? What if who I end up with ends up being cruel? I’d be stuck.” Akira’s eyes blinked and more tears seeped through. Genevieve shushed her, wiping her face, “You will not be stuck. I have a feeling that the pack that chooses you will be the one that you need. And you never need to worry about me, my little wolf, I’ll be just fine.”

Akira stood in front of her full length mirror unsure of what she should be doing. She’s never been to a summit before, she wasn't sure how she’s supposed to dress. As she turned to walk to her closet, a knock at the door stopped her. “Come in.” Akira sat down on her bed as the door opened. Her eyes widened in surprise to see her older sister, Naomi there so she stood.

“I came to see if you were dressed yet. I guess not.” You looked at the floor while Naomi’s eyes fitted around your room, “Has your room always been this…small? I never noticed.” While the Baptiste’s lived in a rather large home—practically a mansion—it did not always reflect that in the size of the rooms. Naturally, Joseph and Miriam had the master suite on the top floor while Naomi had the third largest room—Braxton having the second, “Why didn’t you move upstairs once Malik and Justine left?”

“Oh,” Akira blinked, “I guess because when they visit with the children and their spouses, it’s still their room.” Akira’s room was on the first level, ducked off by the hallway nearest to the kitchen. It was the smallest room on the floor, being mindful to leave the two big guest rooms for family or visitors now that Braxton moved upstairs along with Naomi. “Plus I don’t own much, it would’ve been too much space for me.” Naomi watched as Akira fretted with the fringes of her robe. She walked further into your room, giving it a once over, “Hmph,” she turned, staring at the small bookcase with its tiny collection of books, “you really don’t ask nor want for much, do you, little sister? You’ve always been such a mousy little thing. Always quiet, always patient. I bet you truly believe the scraps of attention you get from our family is enough for you.” Akira balked at how observant Naomi was. Then again, betas are the most observant of the bunch. “I do think what’s happening to you is stupid, but I don’t disagree with the fact that once dad steps down, there will be no one to support you. Malik is hell bent on succeeding and taking over the family home. He’s greedy.”

Akira watched her sister with both confusion and reverence. It’s not a secret to herself that she should be wary of her siblings. With the amount of affection she received from her parents, it’s no wonder to her that her siblings followed in their footsteps. If her parents were indifferent and even cold at times towards her, then her siblings would be as well. But Naomi was just indifferent. Indifferent and observant. “Justine just doesn’t want you around her husband. His…proclivities with human women aren’t a secret. Or maybe it was, hmph.” Naomi shrugged, “And judging by the look on your face, you seemed surprised by the fact that her mate would step out on her. Don’t be, she does it too. They have a strange relationship, them two. And Braxton, he’ll follow whomever.” Naomi stepped towards Akira’s closet, raking her fingers through the clothes, “Finding a better pack might be a blessing. It’s no wonder grandmother showed you more affection, you needed it.”

“Is that what this is about? Because I’m closer to grandmother than she is to any of you? It wouldn’t be like that if y’all visited her more often.” Akira questioned. Naomi just laughed. Her eyes turned from the closet to stare at her sister, “Have you not been listening to anything I just said? You are the metaphorical runt of the litter. You have no wolf, you are human, our family treats you like crap, yet you don’t see it, why is that? Is it out of obligation? Fear? Love?”

“You’re supposed to love your family.” Akira argued, making Naomi scoff, “And anyway, you all haven’t outright treated me horribly. I know most packs are protective of each other and…I know that most are warm towards e-each…other b-but…” Akira frowned, realizing how that was the opposite of her family. Naomi watched the slow realization hit Akira in real time. Akira was now sitting on the edge of her bed, fully frowned up with sadness. “They tolerated me, didn’t they?” Akira questioned but never got an answer, “So why did they keep me?”

“Mother and grandmother fought for you.” Naomi replied. “I fought for you.” Akira, with tears swimming in her eyes, stared up at Naomi, “I think I wanted you to stay because it kept the attention off of me for a while. Everyone doted on you until it was time for you to present your wolf, and when you didn’t, I was right back where I started. It was stupid, I see it now, to treat you the way I did because you had no control over that. I just got tired of being the prized beta in a den of alphas. I had hoped that you’d at least be a beta or hell, even an omega. It would’ve taken the pressure off of me.”

“So that’s where dad’s disappointment comes from. He’s ashamed I’m human.” Akira realized.

“Our father’s prejudice, that’s nothing new.” Naomi rolled her eyes. “I think I’m more upset that you never fought for more. You dwell in a shoe box of a room, you had more chores than any of us did over the years, you barely got more than one present every Christmas. They sometimes forget your birthday and you’re forced to babysit them little gremlins every weekend. Why are you so—.” Naomi began getting frustrated at Akira ‘s calmness.

“Weak?” Akira answered, a watery chuckle left her lips as her eyes burned with more tears. Naomi frowned, not expecting this reaction, “I could see how disappointed our parents were. I didn’t want to further upset anyone so I just…did what was asked of me and stayed out of the way.” Akira sighed, wiping her face, “It was easiest. Like you said, I’m the runt. Nobody wants the runt.” Akira blew out a breath, standing to walk to her closet, “I should be grateful they didn’t give me away.”

“If they did, you probably would’ve had a hell of a lot better chance at life. To live amongst humans…to live freely from under someone’s thumb.” Naomi lamented about her own fate. “I will say, the only thing we seem to have in common is that our parents both make choices for us. Did you know that betas don’t have mates?” Akira stared at her sister, “Their chemistry is different from that of an alpha or omega. We don’t feel what they do when they find a mate. So the head alpha of the family has to find a mate for them.” Akira turned towards Naomi, putting two and two together.

“..You’re coming to the summit.” Akira says, not surprised. Naomi just nodded in response, edging towards the door, “You’re not the only one getting edged out of this family, little sister. The only difference is the family actually enjoys it. A week-long celebration will be in my honor once the courting season is over for me, as it is with all betas. The wedding alone will be a full day of tightly fitted dresses and over the top sugary sweets.” Naomi actually growled in annoyance and Akira wondered if her sister just truly did not like people, “A never ending nightmare.” Naomi grumbled.

“You’d think with it being the 21st century, wolves wouldn’t be such old fashioned bitches.” Akira gawked at Naomi’s language, “Maybe your new pack won’t be so bad. Maybe they’ll respect you more. Maybe they’ll be nice. Anything is nice once you live a life of cruelty, ain’t it, little sister?” At that, Naomi left Akira’s room. Having Naomi open Akira’s eyes sparked a level of observation Akira never noticed that she in fact needed. She was always in the background, but never truly paid attention. Now she has no choice but to.

“This room will be filled to the brim with pack leaders. In order for alliances to be made, we need the strongest packs in our corner, especially with the rebel groups forming. Think you girls can handle this?”

Both Akira and Naomi looked at each other from the back seat of the Land Rover before giving their father a reply, “Yes father.” Meeting within the center of town in Smeraldo Valley for the summit was terrifying. Akira didn’t want to go, and she knew that if she didn’t, it would’ve caused tension within the family. The large town hall looked ominous as Malik parked the car within the parking lot. The caramel colored, long sleeved chiffon dress Akira wore hit her at the knees and hid her thick thighs and wide hips, though the empire waist could do little to hide her somewhat large chest. The color matched the long ribbon holding her curly mane back, complimenting the richness of her pecan shaded skin. Down to the nude flats, Akira never made a color look so vibrant. Though it took some doing, her sister Naomi also wore a dress, though it wasn’t by choice.

“Akira,” her father called before whispering something to Malik, “a moment.” Akira watched as he nodded to Malik, then turned his attention back to her. Akira bowed her head, afraid to look him in the eyes. His towering presence overwhelmed her, but she tried not to show it. Without warning, her father grabbed her arm and placed it around his, a level of affection she hadn’t experienced since she was younger, “Akira, your alliance falls on a very different expectation than Naomi’s.” Akira nodded along, figuring that it had to do with her being a human, “Naomi doesn’t have to work as hard, she doesn’t have to prove her worth. While Omegas are ideally sought after, Betas are treasured for different reasons. They are the pack's mediators. They set the tone. They level tempers and are strategic in negotiations. Your mother fills that role, and now your sister will do the same.”

“So…you want me to stay out of the way? To let Naomi be the first pick?” Akira knew that her father did not want her ruining any opportunities that benefited the family, which included today’s summit meeting in finding packs for both her and Naomi. If the best of the best wanted Naomi, then whatever was left was meant for Akira, always the runt, always receiving the scraps.

“It’s not just that,” her father continued, “there are certain duties you’ll have to perform in order for this alliance to work.”

“Duties Naomi will not have to do, I assume.” Akira replied.

“You assume correctly.” The two finally reached inside the building, their slow walk purposely meant to stall Akira’s arrival into the large board room. “You have no special talents or abilities. No gifts of any kind given to you by our wolf ancestors. You have nothing to offer these packs or their leaders. Nothing really, except…” Akira listened patiently, waiting for her father to finish, but when he didn’t, she stared up at him. Her steps slowed to a stop as she stared at him with the realization of what he was asking her to do, “…Father, no—.”

“If you care at all about your family, about the safety of your family, you will do whatever it takes to keep these alliances going. And I do mean whatever.”

“You can’t ask me to do that!” Akira suddenly shouted. Before she could get another word in, her father grabbed her arm forcibly and dragged her to the nearest corner, tightening his grip, making her flinch and whimper in pain. Over the years, her mother would give a little tap here or there whenever she threw a tantrum, while her father remained indifferent to her. But never had she been snatched so forcibly before that the muscle would ache and a bruise would later form. Tears welled in her eyes in fear, “Listen you little ingrate,” Joseph spat, hissing at her, “if it weren’t for your mother and grandmother, I’d left you in the woods years ago! I don’t want humans anywhere near my pack if I can help it! But we fed you, clothed you, and gave you a roof over your head—you owe us!” Akira watched in fear as his eyes changed color, his inner wolf threatening to emerge. The fiery red color nearly coated his entire pupils.

“You will do as I say because whether I like it or not, I’m still your father and you will obey me! Now clean yourself up and look presentable before you embarrass us all!” Joseph let go of Akira’s arm, making her stumble into the marble wall. Tears trekked down her plump face. Her arm throbbed with a drumming pain as she held it, still convinced a bruise will form later. Akira quickly wiped her face and took calming deep breaths. She wasn’t sure what she was walking into and it scared her even more. “Akira.”

Akira jumped at the sound of someone calling her name. Malik simply stared, having probably heard the whole thing anyway. Again, Akira quickly cleaned her face and fixed her dress, “Are you done throwing a fit or do you need me to deal with you as well?” Malik whispered. Akira turned, horrified at what her brother just said to her. Maybe Naomi and her grandmother were right. Maybe her new pack would be better.

Entering into the boardroom, Akira could already see Naomi speaking with two men and a woman, already seeming so animated in her conversation with them. When Naomi glanced over at Akira, she could sense something was wrong, already seeing Akira flinch at the slightest touch from Malik or their father. Naomi did nothing though, going back to her conversation.

In the room, five other groups stood, four of which were vying for the attention of other betas and omegas present, all except one. Kim Namjoon was very particular about who he allowed in his pack. They had to be the right type of person (or wolf) to deal with such strong personalities. The silver haired leader watched the room intensely, looking for any signs of weakness amongst the many groups there. That was, until he inhaled the sweet, syrupy smell of molasses and chocolate and vanilla. Honeycomb danced on his tongue and eyes glowed a bright red from the intensity of the smell.

‘Our mate. Our mate is here, our omega.’ Namjoon’s inner wolf spoke, clearly enticed. Namjoon turned to his beta, Jin, who clearly had the same effect happen to him; the icy blue glare of his eyes remained as they roamed, looking for the source, “There, by the door, that’s her.” Namjoon followed Jin’s line of sight, seeing Akira, Malik and Joseph speaking with Naomi and Jackson Wang, a fellow alpha of their brother pack. Malik, ever the observant budding pack alpha, noticed the alpha and beta staring at an aloof Akira. “It seems we found a pack for Akira.” Joseph glanced over at Namjoon and Jin, surprised by the glow of their eyes, “You don’t think that they’re…”

“I’m not sure dad but it seems that their wolves are reacting like any normal wolf that’s found their mate. It’s better than nothing.”

“Do you not know who they are, son?” Malik shrugged, “Kim Namjoon, leader of the Kim-Bangtan pack. First youngest pack leader to have mostly all alphas and betas, highest ranking pack leader next to the founder of Smeraldo Valley—and he wants your sister. A human.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Malik asked, confused.

“Yes, but a lower ranking pack, not them.” Joseph sighed with annoyance, watching as Akira strayed off to a corner to stay out of the way. Joseph watched as Namjoon and Jin’s eyes followed her movements. As much as he didn’t want Akira possibly screwing up an alliance with one of the most powerful pack leaders amongst their town, Joseph knew he had no other choice but to let them have her. Namjoon soon went in for the kill, making his way over to Akira. He could tell with her shy nature that having both him and Jin approach her at once would overwhelm her. Hovering near the refreshments, Akira hadn’t noticed until she felt the strong urge to turn around. She turned just in time, nearly stumbling into the wall; she was the perfect height to him, as he liked small and cute things. Delicate things.

“Hello. I’m Kim Namjoon.” The man smiled, offering not just his hand but a buzzing feeling blooming inside Akira’s chest. She looked down, fitting her hand in his. “May I know your name?”

“It’s Akira. Akira Baptiste, Mr. Kim.”

“Please, call me Namjoon.” His thumb ran small circles into the back of her hand. The small gesture made Akira gasp. The two shared small conversations by the snacks and drinks, though it was mostly Namjoon who initiated. He could tell that she was a shy, quiet thing. But he was still intrigued nonetheless, still feeling the deep timber his wolf growled for her.

“Please don’t take offense, Akira, but are you the human everyone’s been talking about?” Namjoon questioned in wonder and fascination. Akira glanced at him and nodded. Namjoon never let go of her hand; the small gesture made her insides feel warm and relaxed. She never felt this feeling before, anywhere, and it surprised her. “You’re very shy, are you?” Namjoon chuckled. Akira turned away, but Namjoon continued, “No worries, there’s no obligation to talk to me if you’re not comfortable.”

“Oh!” Akira quickly fixed the misunderstanding, “Oh no, it’s not that! I’m just—I never—I usually don’t come to these t-type of things so…” Akira trailed for a moment, biting her bottom lip nervously, “I d-don’t know what to say…”

“Well how about I ask a question, and then you try and answer as best as you can. Easy enough, right?” Akira nodded timidly. “Do you have any siblings, Akira?”

“Yes, I have 4. Two older brothers and two older sisters, I’m with some of them today.” Akira nodded, signaling Namjoon to look around the room, finding one of her siblings, Malik, staring at him, and the other, Naomi, still in conversation with his friend, Jackson. Namjoon turned his attention back to Akira, completely unfazed by Malik’s gaze, “What kind of hobbies are you into?”

“Hobbies? Oh um…I like to read. Some, I uh, I barely have time these days.” Namjoon nodded, already plotting to build an entire library wing just for her in his mind, “I enjoy cooking, I guess.” Jin suddenly picked up on the conversation, having heard her soft dulcet tones from across the room. He wanted to hear that sound more. “I enjoy cooking for my family.” It wasn’t a total lie to tell, she did enjoy cooking, just for people who enjoyed it, mainly her grandmother and nieces, nephews, and baby cousins. “I like to knit too. Sometimes I like listening to music or watching movies at home.”

“What about going out?”

“I’m usually busy with chores that I don’t have the time to.” Akira spoke without thinking, not knowing that what she said was odd to Namjoon. His brow slightly furrowed, ‘Chores? Chores?! Our omega shouldn’t be lifting a finger, she should be treated like a princess!’ His wolf was screaming, no doubt Jin heard it too. Just before Akira could clear up any confusion, Joseph and Malik strolled over to their corner. Namjoon’s wolf was growling at the sight of them, already not trusting the vibe they were giving him. He didn’t like them at all.

“Ah, Mr. Kim! I see you’ve taken a shine to my little princess.” If Akira could fix her face to show disgust, confusion, and anger, she would. Since when has she ever been this man’s princess? “She’s our special one.”

“Yes, that she is.” Namjoon smiled at her, making Akira nearly melt, “I was just wondering to myself why hasn’t she been to any of the summits before? Surely Ms. Akira was of age to find her own pack then.” Akira glanced between Namjoon and her father, seeing the silent battle unfold.

“Ah, yes, well her mother and I were very cautious about Akira joining another pack. Not only is she our youngest, but she’s also the only human to be born in our family for years. Protecting her has been our main priority and truthfully, I just couldn’t let my little girl go.” Joseph disingenuously smiled while reaching out to pinch Akira’s cheek. “But sadly, her mother and I are growing older and now is the time that we want to make sure that Akira is well taken care of.”

“Is that so?” Namjoon tried to keep the monotone lithe from his voice as best as he could, knowing that everything Joseph said was complete bullshit.

“Yes, my sister is…a rarity, I guess you can say.” Malik interrupted, sensing the tension, “Is that why you want her, Mr. Kim? Because of her rarity?” You watched Namjoon’s eyes glow and for whatever reason you reached over and grabbed his wrist. It was instinctual, you didn’t like fighting. Namjoon’s eyes returned to their natural color and his breathing slowed. That’s when Jin decided to walk over, having heard enough, “Actually, we believe Ms. Akira to be our mate. She’d make a perfect omega.”

“She can’t be an omega, she’s human.” Malik laughed, clearly finding Jin’s comment crazy.

“Being an omega isn’t just a wolf subspecies. It’s also a state of mind. Human or not, you can clearly see that your sister’s personality fits that of an omega.” Jin quipped, “Or do you simply not see your sister as someone worth the time to notice?” Akira’s eyes widened and she unintentionally squeezed Namjoon’s wrist. Before Malik could retaliate, Joseph stepped in, “I think you and I need to have a talk about Akira’s future.” Joseph and Namjoon stepped away, leaving Akira, Malik, and Jin standing where they left them. While Malik and Jin stared daggers at each other, all Akira wanted to do was just crawl in a hole and die.

“To my daughter Naomi, for securing a match with the head of the Wang Pack, Jackson Wang. May the alliances between the packs grow stronger and stronger.”

Akira watched as everyone held up a glass in honor of Naomi’s match. Dinner once again fell on Akira as it became her responsibility. Catering to such a large group wasn’t anything new to her. She knew now that she wasn’t ignorant to her family’s ways, that she was treated as a maid to suit their needs. The mere fact devastated her, yet she held it all inside to get through the rest of the evening. While passing around the dinner table to pour everyone a drink, her father made the surprising remark, “And to my other daughter, Akira. She has somehow managed to snag the leader of the Bangtan Pack, Namjoon Kim! What a surprise it was that he wanted her first, no negotiating needed!” Joseph laughed.

“Really Joseph, was that necessary? Really??” Miriam scoffed, annoyed with his behavior. Meanwhile, everyone looked to Akira, shocked at how she managed to snag the highest pack leader within the community. Akira remained silent, shuffling around the table to top off everyone’s drink before heading to the children’s table to make sure they were taken care of. She then started to make her way to the kitchen before her grandmother stopped her, “Akira.” The steely sound of her voice made everyone stand on edge. Alphas might be leaders but elders, especially omegas, are coveted. They are held in high regard and when they get angry…

“Joseph, did I raise you to be this cold? Did your father? Your daughter was accepted into a pack—a very esteemed, powerful pack—and you talk as if it was a complete shock that they even wanted her, have you no sense of pride for her?” Genevieve tsk’d.

“Mother—.”

“You will do right by this child even if I have to make you myself.” You could’ve sworn that she hissed at him, “Your father would be so disappointed—.”

“Well my father isn’t here, is he?” Joseph muttered coldly, “No, those devilish humans saw to that!”

“Joseph, please!” Miriam begged, “That is your mother!”

“Don’t defend me, Miriam.” Genevieve muttered, “Your husband seemed to have forgotten that if it weren’t for the humans, he wouldn’t be here his damn self. He knows that my grandfather was human, my father too, and he knows that it’s their blood that runs through his sorry veins. Your father, god rest his soul, was the gentle giant that he was. He loved all of mankind, wolf and human alike, and it sickens me how you treat this child!” Akira cowarded off to the side, afraid of the tempers brewing in the family dining room. She didn’t want this. She never meant to cause a fight.

“Can I say something, please?” Akira suddenly spoke, surprising everyone, including herself, “Father is right.”

The widening of her grandmother’s eyes told her she better hurry to explain, “Humans are welcomed, yes, but not by many. And the packs that usually let them in are shunned. It is…it’s surprising that Mr. Kim even wanted me. I-I’m nothing special, we know that—.”

“Akira—.”

“Mama please,” Akira interrupted Miriam, “it’s true.” She then looked down at her hands, “We know it’s true. I’m not gifted like Malik or Braxton or Naomi and Justine. I’m nobody, and for whatever reason, Mr. Kim wanted me. Maybe they need a house maid or something, I don’t know, the point is, I got lucky. And after Friday, all the arguing won’t matter because you won’t have to see me again. I’m sorry I caused all this fighting, that’s not what I wanted.” Akira felt herself choking up so she looked away, “I-I promise I won’t cause you anymore trouble, I’m sorry.” Akira turned and went back to the kitchen, making the tension in the dining room uneasy.

Quietly, she cried to herself as her insecurity of being a burden grew and festered. The burn that settled deep in her chest bellowed as she tried muffling her cries, but how useful would that be in a house full of wolves? After a few minutes, she quickly dried her eyes, wiped her face, and finished cleaning up in the kitchen. She scrubbed dishes and countertops. Hugged and kissed each one of her nieces and nephews and cousins goodnight as they brought her their dirty dishes, thankfully never turning out as mean and self righteous as their parents. She cleaned up after their table and then when she noticed everyone had left the dining room, she cleaned up in there too.

An hour later, with nearly a few more dishes to go, Akira heard the light tapping footsteps of heels entering the kitchen, which meant it could only be her sister, Justine, “I wanted to tell before we left how much I enjoyed your performance, little sister. You make pity look so disgustingly pathetic, even I almost felt bad for you.” Justine laughed, a glass of wine still in her hand as she tipped the last of it back. Akira stopped what she was doing and glanced at Justine before shaking her head and going back to cleaning. Instead of a rebuttal, Akira just held out her hand, waiting for Justine to hand her the glass. With one last gulp, Justine handed over the glass so Akira could wash it. She laughed, “My god you’re so weak.”

“Fine. Then let me be weak.” Akira shrugged, the monotone tilt to her voice catching Justine off guard. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve gone from little sister to punching bag in the span of twenty years. I’ve gone from the baby of the family to house slave. And now, I’m surprised at how sad I am that I will be leaving the only home I’ve ever known, the only family—if you could call us that—that I’ve ever known, to live with strangers that’ll probably treat me worse than how you, or dad, or anyone else has ever treated me.” Akira prophesied, staring ahead at nothing in particular, “I used to want to be you…” Akira turned, staring Justine in the eyes, “I used to think how amazing you were and how much I wanted to be like you. Like Naomi too. I would tell everyone how cool my sisters were and how much I loved being around you. Until I turned 10, that is.” Akira scoffed, turning away from Justine as she finished up, “When I didn’t present as anything, I could see father—Joseph's—disappointment.” Akira corrected, feeling absolutely no emotional ties to her father now,

“I just pushed it to the side, thinking I could make up for what I lacked in other ways. But seeing you instantly side with him, as if wanting his approval so badly from him that you would instantly turn on me? It hurt more than anything.” Akira could feel herself getting teary so she finished cleaning and then wiped her hands on a dish towel, “I lost so much more that day, I lost my best friends one by one. I lost a father and a mother. The only person who didn’t turn me away was grandmother.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Justine rolled her eyes, even when she herself didn’t like the truth being told to her at this very moment. With tears in her eyes, Akira turned to face her. The sight caught a tipsy Justine off guard, “I’m telling you this because one day, your daughters will present soon. And if the outcome isn’t what you want, will you turn on them too?” Akira didn’t even let Justine answer, having left towards the kitchen entrance with adrenaline pumping high in her veins. She quickly made it to her room, taking in the clutter as half empty cardboard boxes sat in corners of her room. Akira was finally coming to terms that the family she knew was never really hers. She was just a temporary fixture in their space, like the help. And even though she would be free of all of that very soon, she still didn’t know what she was walking into.

I did not like this chapter at all.

#bts fanfiction #werewolf bts #bts ff #bts polyamory au

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mauvecherie-writes · 4 days ago

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clean slate.

#mauvecherie writes

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mauvecherie-writes · 5 days ago

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My good sis is back in the GAME!!!!! all the BTS girlies - go check her out NOOOOWWWW

Summary: In Smeraldo Valley, CA, where humans and werewolves coexist, alliances are made between packs to protect those who wish to keep the peace between themselves and the humans, and those who wish to destroy it. Sadly, little human Akira Baptiste just happened to be caught in the middle as her pack family has arranged for her to become part of one of the most powerful packs in the country— The Kim-Bangtan Pack. Strange things take place when everyone soon realizes that rebel packs have begun forming their own communities, making sure to terrorize humans and werewolves alike. How will Akira and Bangtan make it through?

Warnings: strong language, breeding kink, heavy smut, strong violence, angst, parallel polyandry relationships, omegaverse, a/b/o, slow burn, trauma/healing themes, kink exploration; 21+ readings is advised, do not read if you are under 21+, I am not responsible for what you choose to read.

Rating: Mature

C H A P T E R S:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfction #bts army #bts

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mauvecherie-writes · 5 days ago

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I am so ready for them to evolve into a proper couple. I see good things in their future.

OFFSIDES (chapter 2) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️💕✨) # wc: 9.56k

# tags: @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mufasathatniggatho, @captainwithoutmakingitlove @livinglifethroughfanfic, @judesvirtual @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: nazanin "naz" williams and real madrid star aurélien tchouaméni's casual relationship takes an unexpected turn. after he temporarily ghosts her, leading to leaked photos and public drama, they must face their feelings for each other and try to make their 'situationship' into something concrete. masterlist

Aurélien spotted his mother immediately at Madrid-Barajas Airport – not hard when she was wearing her signature red coat that made her stand out among the sea of travelers. He had to bend down considerably to kiss both her cheeks, his 6'2" frame dwarfing her petite figure.

"Mon petit," ("My little one,") she said, patting his cheek despite the fact there was nothing little about him anymore. Her face was a study in controlled displeasure – not quite angry, but definitely not happy.

"Maman," he replied, taking her bags. "Le vol était bon?" ("Was the flight good?")

"Mm." That single sound carried volumes of upcoming lecture. She'd perfected that tone during his teenage years.

Loading her bags into his Lamborghini Urus' trunk, Aurélien felt like he was seventeen again, about to confess to sneaking out to a party. Except this was bigger than teenage rebellion. So much bigger.

The drive from the airport was unusually quiet. Normally, he'd be cracking jokes, telling her about Ocho's latest antics, showing off his improving Spanish accent. But today the words stuck in his throat. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel – a nervous tell his mother definitely noticed.

"Tu es silencieux," ("You're quiet,") she observed, studying his profile. "C'est à cause des blogs?" ("Is it because of the blogs?")

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "Pas exactement." ("Not exactly.")

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but then her expression softened. "Just because I am going to lecture you doesn't mean you can't tell me other things. Good things." She switched to English, something she did when she wanted to show she wasn't too angry. "How is Eduardo? And Jude?"

Aurélien felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. This was familiar territory. "Cama's Cama. Still bouncing off walls at training. Jude's good too – his Spanish is getting better than mine."

"Ah, but his French?"

"Terrible," Aurélien grinned despite himself. "Like, really terrible, Maman."

"You should teach him."

"I tried! He keeps mixing up his conjugations. Called Coach 'tu' instead of 'vous' the other day. Almost gave Uncle Bertrand a heart attack."

His mother laughed, and for a moment it felt normal. Just picking up his mom from the airport, sharing stories about his friends, being her not-so-little boy.

Then his phone lit up with a text from Naz – another nursery design she'd found – and reality crashed back in. His grip tightened on the steering wheel again.

His mother noticed. Of course she noticed. She noticed everything.

"Aurélien." Her voice was gentle now. Too gentle. "What aren't you telling me?"

The ultrasound picture felt like it was burning a hole in his wallet. Two more turns until they reached his villa. Just two more turns to figure out how to tell his mother she was going to be a grandmother.

Maybe he should have let Uncle Bertrand do this after all.

The moment they stepped into his villa, Ocho bounded over, tail wagging wildly. His mother's stern expression softened as she bent to pet him.

"Mon beau garçon," ("My handsome boy,") she cooed, scratching behind his ears. "Au moins toi, tu ne me causes pas de problèmes." ("At least you don't cause me problems.")

Aurélien winced at that, but before he could respond, Uncle Bertrand appeared from the kitchen.

"Josette," he greeted, kissing both her cheeks. "Le voyage s'est bien passé?" ("Was the journey good?")

She gave her brother-in-law a knowing look. "You know something."

Bertrand raised his hands in surrender. "I know nothing." He whistled for Ocho. "Come, let's go check the garden."

The dog followed happily, and just like that, Aurélien's backup had abandoned him.

Traitors, both of them.

He placed his mother's bags in the hallway, each movement feeling like a step toward execution. When he entered the living room, she had already claimed her usual armchair, her Lady Dior purse placed precisely on the coffee table.

"Viens t'asseoir, Aurélien." ("Come sit, Aurélien.")

That tone. That specific tone that made his stomach drop straight to his Nike sneakers. At twenty-four, standing 6'2, playing for Real Madrid, and he still felt like a small boy when his mother used that voice. Because you didn't disobey a West African mother – not if you valued your life.

He sat.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his fingers fidgeting. His mother watched him over her glasses, then reached up to adjust them on her nose with deliberate slowness.

"Alors… qu'est-ce que Simon a dit à propos des blogs?" ("So… what did Simon say about the blogs?")

Simon, his agent at ESN. Aurélien looked heavenward, avoiding her gaze entirely as he rattled off the response. "He said we should let it die down. Not engage. The news cycle will move on to something else soon enough."

"Hmm." That single syllable held volumes. "C'est tout? Rien d'autre?" ("That's it? Nothing else?")

The ultrasound picture in his wallet felt like it was radiating heat. How was it possible for something so small to feel so heavy?

"Aurélien." Josette's voice cut through his silence. "Since when do you not look at me when I'm speaking to you?"

He forced himself to meet her eyes. "Désolé, Maman." ("Sorry, Mom.")

"These blogs," she continued, switching to English entirely now. "This girl they're writing about. Is she just another-"

"She's not like that," he cut in, then immediately regretted interrupting when his mother's eyebrow arched. "Pardon. But Naz… she's different."

"Different how? Because from what I'm seeing, she's running to gossip blogs with stories about my son-"

"That wasn't her. It was her friend."

"Ah, so she has messy friends?" Josette leaned forward slightly. "You know better than this, Aurélien. I raised you better than to get mixed up with-"

"She's pregnant."

The words hung in the air between them. Josette went very still, her hands frozen mid-gesture.

"Pardon?" ("What?")

Aurélien reached for his wallet with trembling fingers, pulled out the ultrasound photo. "She's pregnant, Maman. Eight weeks."

His mother stared at the picture he held out, not taking it. "Est-ce que tu es sûr que c'est-" ("Are you sure it's-")

"Yes." His voice was firm now. "It's mine. Naz isn't… she's not like that."

Josette finally took the ultrasound, her glasses sliding down her nose as she studied it. The silence stretched so long Aurélien thought he might explode.

"Does Simon know?"

Of all the first questions he'd expected, that wasn't one of them. "Not yet."

"Your father?"

"No. Just you and Uncle Bertrand."

She looked up sharply. "Bertrand knew before me?"

"He was there when… when everything happened." Another long silence.

Then his mother said: "What are you going to do?"

"That's… complicated. Naz hasn't decided if-"

"Ah." Understanding flooded his mother's face. "She's considering…"

"Yeah." His voice cracked slightly. "It's her choice, but…"

"But you want to keep it."

It wasn't a question. His mother had always been able to read him like a book.

"I know it's not ideal," he started. "I know the timing is terrible, and my career, and-"

"Aurélien." Josette held up a hand, stopping his ramble. She looked at the ultrasound again, then back at her son. "You're really ready for this? For everything it means?"

"No," he admitted. "But I want to be."

Josette stood suddenly, pacing the length of his living room. The ultrasound picture was still clutched in her hand.

"This girl-"

"Naz," he corrected gently.

"Naz," his mother amended. "Tell me about her. Not what the blogs say. Tell me who my son got into this situation with."

Aurélien shifted in his seat. "She's smart. Has her master's in psychology. She's half Cameroonian, half American-"

"Cameroon?" That got his mother's attention. "From where?"

"Douala, her mother's side."

"Hmm." She resumed her pacing. "And what does she want? Besides publicity in blogs?"

"Maman, I told you, that wasn't her." He ran a hand over his face. "She's actually… she's really private. Keeps to herself. The blogs were her friend's idea, and that was only because I…" He trailed off.

"Because you what?"

"I blocked her number," he admitted quietly. "When she was trying to tell me about… about the baby."

Josette stopped pacing. "Aurélien Djani Tchouaméni."

He winced. The full name. Never a good sign.

"You blocked a woman who was trying to tell you she was carrying your child?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant! I was angry about something else and-"

"Non, non, non." His mother switched fully into rapid French. "I did not raise you to behave this way. When a woman needs to speak with you, you listen. When she carries your child, you definitely listen!"

"I know, Maman. I fixed it. I flew to London as soon as I found out."

"London?" Her eyes narrowed. "She lives in London?"

"Yes."

"And you're in Madrid."

"Yes."

"And if she keeps this baby?"

The question he'd been asking himself since he first saw that heartbeat. "We'll figure it out. I can buy her a place here, or-"

"Buy her a- Aurélien!" Josette threw up her hands. "You can't just throw money at this situation!"

"I'm not! I just want to make sure she and the baby are taken care of-"

"The baby that she hasn't even decided to keep yet?"

That shut him up. His mother's expression softened as she saw something in his face.

"Ah," she said quietly, sitting back down. "This is why you're different. You really want this baby." He nodded, not trusting his voice. "Even though you're only twenty-four? Even though your career is just taking off?"

"Yes."

Josette studied him for a long moment. Then: "Show me a picture of her. The real her, not those blog photos."

He pulled out his phone, found his favorite picture of Naz – her curled up on his couch with Ocho, both of them napping in the afternoon sun. His mother took the phone, examining it carefully.

"She's beautiful," she said finally. "But scared, I think. Even in sleep."

"She is. Scared. About everything."

"As she should be." Josette handed back his phone but kept the ultrasound. "And you? Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

His honesty seemed to surprise her. "Good," she said. "Fear means you understand the weight of this. The responsibility."

"So you're not… disappointed?"

"Oh, I'm very disappointed." But she was smiling slightly now. "This is not how I imagined becoming a grandmother. But…" She looked at the ultrasound again. "If she chooses to keep it, this baby will be family. And we protect family."

Relief flooded through him. "Even if the timing is terrible?"

"Babies come when they come, Aurélien. Though next time, maybe consider marriage first?"

"Maman!"

"What? A mother can hope." Josette clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "I told both you and Yannis about protection. Every time! 'Maman, we know!' But clearly you didn't know!"

Aurélien slumped deeper into the couch.

"So what is the plan now? With Naz - you're getting married?"

He let out a groan, and his mother's eyes flashed.

"Oh, you groan? You can lay with her without protection and make a baby, but you groan when I try to right this wrong? You have to marry her, Aurélien."

"But we weren't together together..."

"Je m'en fous!" ("I don't care!") She pointed toward the stairs. "You laid up in your bedroom, as naked as I gave birth to you, and done the deed. You're a man now, making babies now. What will she be, a baby mama? Oh no, no no no. We'll call her mother and set up the proper ways. You will not-"

"Josette," Uncle Bertrand interrupted, coming in from the backyard. "I don't think them getting married right now is the best idea. Nazanin doesn't know what to do still." He turned to his nephew. "Explain to your mother, Djani."

Josette crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, explain to me because clearly I don't understand."

Aurélien sat up straighter, trying to find the right words. "Naz and I got together casually, just fu-" He caught himself as his mother's eyebrows shot up. "We were both busy with our careers. She was finishing her master's, and I would hit her up sometimes to hang out and... have relations-"

His mother rolled her eyes. "I don't care if you have relations with half the female population, you wear a condom anyway! Doesn't matter if it feels better without one or you want to-"

"Maman, please!" Aurélien covered his ears. "I get it."

"You don't get it because someone is knocked up! Aurélien, what is the plan here? Seriously."

He let out an exasperated breath, really thinking about it. "If Naz decides that she wants to keep it, I would tell her that I want to try to make this work – us together, as a couple. And if she wants to terminate..." His voice got quieter. "I'll be there too."

The living room fell silent. Josette studied her son's face, seeing something there that made her expression soften slightly. She sat down next to him, taking his hand.

"You care for this girl."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "Yeah. I do."

Josette patted his hand, her voice gentler now. "And before all this? What was stopping you from being together properly?"

"I don't know." Aurélien ran his free hand over his face. "Football, maybe? Her studies? The distance?"

"Excuses," his mother said flatly. "All of them."

"They're not-"

"If you care for her enough to want this baby, then these were excuses." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me something. When she comes to Madrid, where does she stay?"

"Here."

"And her things?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "She has… a drawer. And some space in my closet."

"Mhm. And Ocho?"

"Loves her. More than me sometimes, I think."

"And your uncle clearly knows her well enough to defend her."

Uncle Bertrand smiled from his spot by the door. "She's a good girl, Josette. Smart. Respectful. Challenges him when he needs it."

"So," Josette continued, "she stays here, has her things here, your dog loves her, your uncle approves, and yet you say you weren't together?" She shook her head. "Mon fils, for someone so tactical on the field, you can be very stupid off it."

"Maman!"

"Am I wrong? You had feelings for this girl before the baby, non?" Aurélien stayed quiet, which was answer enough. "And now there might be a baby, and you're ready to step up, but what if…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "What if she chooses not to keep it? What then?"

"I told you, I'll support-"

"No, Aurélien. After. Will you go back to this 'casual' arrangement? Continue pretending you don't have real feelings?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead. The idea of Naz terminating was painful enough without considering what came after.

"I don't want to lose her," he admitted quietly. "Either way."

Josette's expression softened completely. "Then tell her that. Not about the baby – about her. These feelings you're hiding behind 'casual' and 'just having relations.'" She made a face at the last part. "Be honest with her."

"But what if-"

"What if, what if!" She threw up her hands. "You footballers, always calculating every move. Sometimes you just have to take the shot, non?"

Uncle Bertrand chuckled. "She has a point, nephew."

Aurélien pulled out his phone, looking at his latest messages with Naz. She'd sent another nursery design, but hadn't responded to his last text about having dinner together next week.

"I should call her," he said.

"Yes, you should." Josette stood. "But first, you need to tell me exactly what you plan to do if she keeps this baby. Where will she live? What about her career? Have you thought about schools? Religion? How often would I see my grandchild?"

"Maman, it's too early for-"

"It's never too early to plan." She was in full mother-mode now. "And if you're going to do this, you'll do it properly. No grandchild of mine will have parents just 'hanging out' and 'having relations.'"

"Uncle," Aurélien pleaded.

Bertrand held up his hands. "Don't look at me. Your mother's right about this one. You need a real plan, not just nursery furniture and good intentions."

Josette nodded approvingly. "Now, call the girl. And put it on speaker – I want to hear her voice."

"Maman, no-"

"Speaker, Aurélien. Or I call her myself."

He stared at her in horror. "You wouldn't."

Her raised eyebrow said she absolutely would.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But please… be nice?"

"I'm always nice," Josette said primly. "I just also believe in doing things the right way."

As he dialed Naz's number, Aurélien couldn't help thinking that his mother's version of "the right way" might be exactly what scared Naz the most.

The phone rang three times before Naz's voice came through: "Aurél?"

"Hey." He shot his mother a warning look. "Um, you have a minute?"

"Yeah, just finished with the counselor actually." There was rustling in the background. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, but…" He took a deep breath. "My mother's here. She'd like to talk to you."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Oh." Naz's voice went up an octave. "Oh, um…"

"Bonjour, Nazanin," Josette cut in smoothly. "I hope you are well?"

"Madame Tchouaméni! I… yes, thank you. I'm well."

Aurélien could practically hear Naz fidgeting on the other end. His mother, however, was the picture of composure.

"Please, call me Josette. My son has told me about your… situation."

Another loaded silence. Then, quietly: "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Josette's voice sharpened slightly. "Making my son take responsibility for his actions?"

"Maman," Aurélien warned.

"No, no, let me finish." Josette leaned closer to the phone. "Nazanin, are you sorry about the baby, or sorry about how I found out?"

"I…" Naz's voice wavered. "Both? Neither? I don't know anymore."

Something in her tone must have touched Josette because her expression softened. "You sound tired, ma fille."

"It's been… a lot."

"Yes, I imagine it has." Josette glanced at Aurélien. "My son tells me you're still deciding."

"I am." Naz's voice steadied slightly. "I know that's probably not what you want to hear, but-"

"What I want," Josette interrupted gently, "is for both you and my son to make the right decision. Not the easy one, but the right one. Whatever that may be."

Aurélien stared at his mother in surprise. This wasn't the lecture he'd expected.

"I…" Naz seemed equally thrown. "Thank you?"

"Don't thank me yet. If you keep this baby, we will have many discussions about doing things properly. But first, you need to decide. And you need to be honest – with yourself and with my son."

"I'm trying to be."

"Good. Now, put your address in the phone. I'm sending you some ginger tea for the morning sickness."

Aurélien could practically hear Naz's jaw drop. "How did you know about-"

"I've had three children, chérie. I know." Josette's smile was audible. "And we West African mothers, we take care of our own. Even the ones who aren't sure they want to be mothers yet."

The small sob that came through the speaker had Aurélien reaching for the phone, but his mother caught his wrist.

"Nazanin?" she said softly. "Are you there?"

"Yes," Naz managed. "I'm here. I just… my own mother…"

"Ah." Josette's expression turned knowing. "She doesn't know?"

"No. She'll… she won't…"

"Then for now, you have me. Whether you keep this baby or not. D'accord?"

This time the sob was definitely louder. Aurélien's heart clenched – he'd never heard Naz cry like this, not even during their long night of planning.

"Now, now," Josette soothed. "No more tears. Save them for when the hormones really kick in. Aurélien, get the girl some water."

"Maman, she's in London-"

"Then call someone to bring her water! Honestly, do I have to think of everything?"

Naz's wet laugh came through the speaker. "I'm okay, really. Just… thank you. For not hating me."

"Hate you? Ma fille, you might be giving me my first grandchild. Or you might not. Either way, you're important to my son, so you're important to me." Josette paused. "But we will talk about protection later."

"Maman!"

"What? If you're old enough to make babies, you're old enough to discuss how to not make them."

"Oh my god," Naz whispered, but she was definitely laughing now.

"Send the address," Josette instructed. "The tea helps, I promise. And Nazanin?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever you decide… you're not alone. Comprends?"

"Oui," Naz replied softly. "Je comprends."

After the call ended, Josette sat quietly for a moment, then turned to her son. "You didn't tell me her mother doesn't know."

Aurélien slumped back into the couch. "She's scared to tell her. Her mom's… strict. Traditional."

"More traditional than me?" Josette raised an eyebrow.

"Different kind of traditional. More like…" He searched for the right words. "She left America to get away from her mom's expectations. The pressure to be perfect."

"And now she's pregnant by a footballer." Josette's voice held new understanding. "No wonder she's terrified."

Uncle Bertrand, who'd been quiet during the call, finally spoke up. "She's a good girl, Josette. Just young and scared."

"Young?" His mother scoffed. "They're both children playing at being adults." But her tone was softer now. "Though I suppose that's how all first-time parents feel."

Aurélien's head snapped up. "You think she'll keep it?"

"I think…" Josette chose her words carefully. "I think she wants to. I heard it in her voice. But wanting something and being ready for it are different things."

"I can help her be ready," Aurélien said quickly. "I can-"

"Buy her things? Give her money?" His mother shook her head. "That girl needs more than material support, Aurélien. She needs to know she won't be doing this alone."

"I told her that already-"

"But did you show her?" Josette fixed him with that penetrating look she'd perfected over years of motherhood. "Or did you just say the words?"

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Had he really shown Naz she wouldn't be alone? Or had he just thrown solutions at her – cribs and apartments and vague promises?

"The tea will help," his mother continued, already typing on her phone. "But what she really needs is to know she has family here. Real family, not just the father of her baby trying to do the right thing."

"I'm not just-"

"I know." Josette's voice gentled. "I see how you look when you talk about her. But does she?"

Uncle Bertrand cleared his throat. "Perhaps, nephew, instead of showing Nazanin nursery furniture, you should show her what her life could be like here. With all of us."

"A proper family dinner," Josette decided. "When she's next in Madrid. I'll cook."

Aurélien felt a flash of panic. "Maman, she hasn't even decided if-"

"Dinner has nothing to do with the baby," his mother cut in firmly. "This is about the girl my son cares for meeting his family properly. The rest…" She waved a hand. "That will come as it comes."

He stared at her. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"

Josette swatted his arm. "I can be reasonable when I choose to be." Then her expression turned serious again. "But Aurélien?"

"Oui?"

"If she keeps this baby, you make it right. Not just with money or things, but with your heart. Comprends?"

He thought about Naz's laugh, about how she danced in his kitchen, about how Ocho followed her everywhere. About how empty his house felt when she left.

"Je comprends, Maman." He pulled out his phone, looking at their earlier messages about nursery furniture. Deleted the draft about crib prices. Instead, he typed: Miss you. Come for dinner next week? Maman wants to cook for you.

The response came quickly: Really?

Really. No pressure about anything else. Just dinner. Family dinner.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Then: I'd like that.

He showed the exchange to his mother, who nodded approvingly.

"Good," she said. "Now, about that ginger tea…"

The airport pickup felt different this time. Usually, these reunions were just them, but now his whole family – parents, sister Anne Maisha, and brother Yannis – were waiting back at his house. Plus, his ankle was wrapped from the sprain that kept him out of the Leganés match, though the 3-0 win had lifted his spirits.

Naz looked tired when she came through arrivals, the morning sickness evident in her face, but her eyes still lit up when she saw him.

"Even with a limp, you're still fine as hell," she said as they drove back, making him laugh.

"This kind of talk is what got us here," he teased.

She chuckled. "Who knew that a Mallorcan balcony would lead to all this?" She gestured vaguely at her still-flat stomach.

Aurélien licked his lips, memories of that weekend flooding back. They'd had some good times, him and Naz. Really good times.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, forcing himself to focus on the present.

"Still nauseous. The ginger tea your mom sent helps though."

"And the… the counselor?"

She straightened in her seat, rattling off information like she was giving a report. "They explained the procedure. The risks. The timeline. How they…" She trailed off as he winced slightly, though he tried to keep his face neutral.

"Sounds intense," he managed.

"Yeah," she replied, barely audible.

"Still deciding?"

She shrugged, turning to look out the window at the Madrid streets passing by. "We need to have another talk, Aurel."

"Sure." He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "After dinner? We can sit down properly."

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, both of them lost in thoughts about what that talk might bring.

"Your whole family's here," Naz said quietly, fidgeting with her bracelet. "Like, your whole family."

"They want to meet you properly." He reached over to squeeze her hand. "No pressure about anything else, remember?"

Before she could respond, the front door opened and Ocho bounded out, making a beeline for Naz. She laughed as he jumped up to lick her face, the sound easing some of the tension.

"Traitor," Aurélien muttered to his dog. "I'm injured and you go straight to her."

"He knows who gives the best belly rubs," Naz teased, then froze as more figures appeared in the doorway.

Anne Maisha came first, Aurélien's sister practically bouncing with excitement. "Finally! I've been dying to meet the girl who's got my brother buying baby furniture!"

"Maisha," Aurélien warned, but Naz managed a small smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"Come in, come in!" That was his mother, wiping her hands on her apron. "The food will get cold."

The house was chaos – the good kind, the kind that meant family. His father, Fernand, was gesturing animatedly about the Leganés match, his thick French accent getting heavier as he argued with Yannis about tactics. Uncle Bertrand stirred something on the stove that smelled like heaven.

"Sit, sit," Josette commanded, pulling out a chair. "You must be hungry, non? With the morning sickness-"

"Maman," Aurélien started, but Naz touched his arm.

"It's okay." She turned to Josette. "That tea you sent? Life-changing."

His mother practically glowed.

"Nazanin," Fernand approached, his accent wrapping around her name carefully. "Welcome to the madhouse."

"Thanks for having me," Naz replied as he kissed both her cheeks.

Yannis, fresh from whatever basketball footage he'd been analyzing dropped into the chair next to her. "So you're the one who finally got my brother to settle down?"

"Yannis!" Three voices snapped at once.

"What? Just saying what everyone's thinking."

Dinner flowed easier after that, his family's natural warmth breaking through the awkwardness. His mother kept loading Naz's plate, muttering about her being too thin. Uncle Bertrand produced some mysterious green drink that had Naz raising her eyebrows.

"Family recipe," he said with a wink. "Trust me."

Anne Maisha dominated most of the conversation, bouncing between stories about her MBA program and asking Naz about her psychology background. Yannis chimed in with tales from his senior year so far at boarding school in the States, complete with his plans for universities.

But underneath it all, Aurélien could feel it – the weight of what wasn't being said. The careful way everyone avoided certain topics. The way Naz's hand would sometimes drift to her stomach before jerking away.

"This is amazing," Naz said to Josette, gesturing to her plate.

"Next time I teach you," his mother replied. "You come more often, learn the recipes."

The unspoken if hung in the air: If you stay. If you keep the baby. If you become family.

Under the table, Naz's fingers found his, squeezing tight. Their talk after dinner loomed ahead of them, heavy with possibility and fear.

But at least she'd seen this – seen that she wouldn't just be getting him, but all of this. A whole family that would have her back.

He just hoped it would be enough to make her stay.

After dinner, they escaped to the backyard. His family had taken the hint when Naz mentioned needing air, though Aurélien caught his mother watching through the kitchen window before Uncle Bertrand pulled her away.

They sat on the patio chairs, the Madrid night warm around them. Ocho curled up at Naz's feet like he knew she needed the support.

"Your family's nice," she said finally. "Like, really nice."

"Yeah, when they're not being nosy as hell." He shifted his wrapped ankle. "Sorry about Yannis. He has no filter."

"It's cool. Better than Destiny's commentary." She picked at a thread on her sweater. "She keeps sending me abortion clinic reviews like Yelp ratings."

Aurélien's jaw tightened. "You still talking to her?"

"Not really. Not after…" She gestured vaguely. "Everything."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of his family inside and Ocho's soft snoring.

"The counselor," Naz started, then stopped. Took a breath. "She wanted me to think about what I want. Not what my mom would want, or what looks good, or what's easiest. Just… what I want."

Aurélien's heart thundered in his chest. "And?"

"And I think…" She finally looked at him, really looked at him. "I think I want to keep the baby."

The world seemed to stop for a moment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her voice shook slightly. "I know it's crazy. I know the timing is terrible, and we're not even really together, and my career's barely started, but… but I saw that heartbeat, Aurel. And your mom sent that tea, and your family's so warm, and you keep sending me nursery stuff…"

He reached for her hand, relief making him dizzy. "We can figure it out. All of it."

"But what if we can't? What if it's too much? What if-"

"Naz." He tugged her closer, until she was perched on the arm of his chair. "Whatever happens, you've got me. Got my whole nosy-ass family too, apparently."

She laughed wetly. "Your mom's already planning to teach me recipes."

"Yeah, well, wait till she starts with the marriage talks."

Naz stiffened slightly. "Aurel…"

"Not now," he said quickly. "Not because of the baby. But maybe… maybe we could try being together for real? See where it goes?"

"You mean like… dating?"

"Yeah. Actual dates, not just me flying you out for sex on balconies."

She smacked his arm, but she was smiling. "That balcony got us into this mess."

"Worth it though." His hand found her stomach, still flat under her sweater. "Right?"

Instead of answering, she leaned down and kissed him – their first real kiss since that day in the clinic. When she pulled back, her eyes were still wet but her smile was real.

"Your mom's definitely watching us right now, isn't she?"

"One hundred percent."

They both laughed, and something in Aurélien's chest loosened. It wasn't perfect – they still had so much to figure out, so many details to work through. But Naz was keeping the baby. Their baby.

And maybe, just maybe, they were keeping each other too.

The living room felt too warm, too full of expectant faces when they came back inside. Aurélien's hand was steady at the small of her back, but Naz could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. This was real. They were doing this.

"We're keeping it," Aurélien announced, his voice steady despite everything. "We're having a baby."

The reactions came in waves. Anne Maisha squealed, already talking about being the coolest aunt. Yannis muttered something that sounded like "about time" before breaking into a grin. Uncle Bertrand's face split into that knowing smile he'd worn since finding out.

But it was Fernand's reaction that caught Naz's attention. Aurélien's father's face was a complex mix of emotions – worry, resignation, and something that might have been pride. He approached his son slowly, clapping him on the shoulder. Not quite approval, but respect.

"You will make it work," he said, his French accent thicker with emotion. "Both of you."

That's when it started to hit her. Really hit her. They were having a baby. A whole human being. And Monday she had to go back to work like nothing had changed, had to face her roommate who'd been weird ever since finding out about those abortion pamphlets in the trash. Would she have to move out? Where would she go?

Madrid, obviously. That's where Aurélien was. But her Spanish was barely good enough to order coffee, let alone find work. Would she become one of those footballer's girlfriends who just… existed? Shopping and lunch dates and play groups? She'd worked so hard for her degree, for her career-

"Naz." Aurélien's voice seemed to come from far away.

She looked up at him, really looked at him. God, he was beautiful. That was her first thought when she saw him at Cama's party – how unfairly beautiful he was. Those dark eyes that could read a football field like poetry now read her just as easily. That smile that had first made her heart skip now carried an edge of worry. He wanted to try for real – no more casual hookups, no more just fooling around.

Shame it took a baby to get here, though he had mentioned wanting more anyway. But a baby would complicate everything. Change everything. Ruin everything? No, not ruin, but-

"Naz, bébé," he said again, more urgently now. "You're having an anxiety attack."

Was she? This didn't feel like her usual anxiety. Usually she could talk herself down, use her psychology training to identify triggers and responses and-

"Naz, deep breaths, chérie." Josette's voice cut through the chaos in her head, gentle but firm.

When had she sat down on the couch? She didn't remember moving, but here she was, Josette's hands guiding her to lean forward slightly.

Uncle Bertrand appeared with water, but her hands were shaking too badly to hold the glass. When had that started? The trembling? Aurélien took the glass, helping her take small sips, his other hand rubbing circles on her back.

"Nazanin, chérie, I need you to take deep breaths, okay?" Josette demonstrated, exaggerated breaths that Naz tried desperately to copy. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Simple. Basic. Why couldn't she make it work?

"Nazanin, you really need to relax. Your heart rate is too high." Fernand's voice came from beside her – when had he sat down? When had he taken her wrist to check her pulse?

The room felt like it was spinning. Too many faces, too many voices, too many thoughts crashing into each other. Work. Baby. Moving. Spanish. Career. Aurélien. Future. Changes. So many changes.

Her eyes found Aurélien's face again, panic rising up her throat like bile. "We're having a baby?" It came out confused, uncertain, like she was asking a question she should already know the answer to.

"Yes, you and me are going to have a baby, Nazanin." His smile was meant to be reassuring, but she could see the fear in his eyes, the worry for her. His hands found hers, steady despite everything. "Maman, what's going on?" His voice seemed to echo strangely.

"Aurélien, we need to calm her down-" Fernand started, but his voice was fading, like someone was turning down the volume of the world.

Spots danced at the edges of her vision. Someone was saying her name – multiple someones? The room tilted sideways, or maybe she did. The last thing she saw was Aurélien's terrified face as he lunged to catch her, his "Naz!" following her into the darkness as worried gasps filled the room.

She thought she heard Josette calling for someone to call an ambulance, heard Fernand saying something about blood pressure and stress, heard Aurélien's voice close to her ear saying words she couldn't quite grasp.

Then nothing.

Just the quiet dark, and the lingering thought that this wasn't how telling the family was supposed to go. This wasn't how any of it was supposed to go.

But then again, when had anything about them followed the expected path?

*******************************************************************

The steady beep of hospital monitors pulled Naz back to consciousness. Everything felt heavy – her limbs, her eyelids, even her thoughts.

"She's waking up," she heard Josette say softly. "Aurélien-"

"I'm here." His voice was close, followed by the warmth of his hand wrapping around hers. "Hey, bébé."

Naz forced her eyes open, blinking against the harsh hospital lights. Aurélien's worried face came into focus first, then the rest of the private room behind him. Of course, he'd gotten her a private room.

"What..." Her throat felt dry.

"Severe panic attack," Fernand's voice came from somewhere to her left. "Combined with dehydration and low blood pressure. Not good for you or the baby."

The baby. Right. That's what started all this.

"Is it-" She couldn't finish the question.

"Le bébé va bien," Josette assured her quickly. "They did an ultrasound while you were out. Everything's fine."

Naz tried to sit up, but Aurélien's hand on her shoulder kept her down. "Easy. Doctor said you need to rest."

"How long was I..."

"Few hours." His thumb traced circles on her palm. "Scared the shit out of me."

"Language," Josette chided automatically, but there was no heat in it.

Naz looked around the room properly now. Josette was perched in a chair by the window, prayer beads moving silently through her fingers. Fernand stood near the door as he studied her monitors. And Aurélien... Aurélien hadn't changed out of his dinner clothes, his expensive shirt wrinkled from hours of hospital chairs.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Made them go home," Aurélien said. "Uncle Bertrand took Yannis and Maisha back to the villa. No point in everyone camping out here."

"You should have gone too," she told him. "Your ankle-"

He gave her a look that silenced that line of thought immediately.

"The doctor wants to keep you overnight," Fernand said, switching to his careful English. "For observation. And tomorrow, we make plans."

"Plans?"

"To prevent this from happening again." Josette's voice was gentle but firm. "This stress, this anxiety... it's not good for either of you."

"I'm fine, I just-"

"You're not fine," Aurélien cut in. "You haven't been fine. I should have seen it sooner."

"Aurel-"

"No, listen." He perched carefully on the edge of her bed. "All this time I've been showing you cribs and nursery stuff, but we haven't really talked about the real things. Your job, where you'll live, how we'll make this work. I just assumed..."

"We both assumed," she admitted quietly.

"So now we plan," Josette declared. "Properly. But first, you rest."

A nurse came in then, speaking rapid Spanish that had Aurélien translating: "She needs to check your vitals."

"We'll give you some privacy," Fernand said, guiding his wife toward the door. "Aurélien?"

"I'm staying."

His parents exchanged a look that spoke volumes before leaving. The nurse worked efficiently, checking monitors and IVs, speaking softly to Aurélien who translated everything.

When they were alone again, Naz finally asked the question that had been burning since she woke up: "Are you mad?"

"Mad?" He looked genuinely confused. "Why would I be mad?"

"For freaking out. For ending up here. For not being strong enough to-"

"Stop." His voice was firm. "You're one of the strongest people I know. But you don't have to be strong alone anymore."

Tears pricked at her eyes. Damn hormones. "I don't know how to do this, Aurel. Any of it."

"Neither do I." He shifted to lie beside her on the narrow hospital bed, careful of her IV. "But maybe that's okay? Maybe we figure it out together?"

"Your family probably thinks I'm crazy."

He actually laughed at that. "Bébé, my family's already planning your move to Madrid. Maman's making lists of doctors. Uncle Bertrand's talking about good school districts. They're not going anywhere."

"And you?"

He turned his head to look at her properly. "I'm right here. Where else would I be?"

The monitors showed her heart rate picking up slightly, but this time it wasn't from panic.

"We should probably talk about everything," she said. "Like, really talk."

"Tomorrow." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Right now, you need to rest. Doctor's orders."

"Since when do you follow orders?"

"Since they involve you and our baby."

Our baby. The words didn't feel quite so scary anymore. Still terrifying, still overwhelming, but maybe... maybe also a little bit wonderful?

"Aurel?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks for staying."

His answer was another kiss, this one to her forehead. "Always, bébé. Always."

Morning in the hospital brought more tests, more monitors, and the unexpected sight of Eduardo Camavinga and Jude Bellingham trying to sneak a massive bouquet through her door without being noticed by nurses.

"Yo," Cama said, his usual bouncy energy somewhat subdued. "We, uh… brought flowers?"

Naz was propped up in bed, feeling marginally more human after a night of fluids and rest. Aurélien had finally gone home to shower and change, though not without making his mother promise to stay with her.

"You two look guilty as hell," she observed.

"Yeah, well…" Jude shuffled his feet, looking very un-Jude-like in his uncertainty. "We kind of acted like proper dickheads, didn't we?"

"Kind of?"

"Okay, we were total dickheads," Cama admitted, setting the flowers down. "Going ghost when you tried to reach out? Not cool."

"Really not cool," Jude added.

"Like, massively uncool."

"The uncoolest."

"You done?" Naz asked, but she was fighting a smile.

They both dropped into the visitor chairs, looking appropriately chastised. Josette, who'd been quietly doing her crossword by the window, excused herself with a knowing look.

"We thought…" Cama started, then stopped, looking at Jude for help.

"We thought we had to choose sides," Jude finished. "Which was stupid because there weren't even sides to choose."

"Mad stupid," Cama agreed. "And then we talked to Aurel yesterday, how scared he was when you passed out-"

"And we realized we weren't just being shit friends to you," Jude continued. "We were being shit friends to both of you."

Naz picked at her blanket. "You're his teammates. It makes sense you'd-"

"Nah, fuck that." Cama leaned forward. "You're family too. Have been since you started coming around. We just got caught up in some dumb guy code shit."

"Really dumb," Jude emphasized. "Like, embarrassingly dumb."

"The dumbest."

"Now who's done?" Naz asked, but she was properly smiling now.

"For real though," Cama's voice went serious. "We're sorry. And we're here now. Whatever you need."

"Both of you," Jude added. "You and the little footballer."

Naz's hand drifted to her stomach automatically. "You know about…"

"Aurel told us at training. Before…" Cama gestured vaguely at the hospital room. "All this."

"He was proper excited about it," Jude said softly. "Never seen him like that."

"Really?"

"He showed us ultrasound pictures," Cama laughed. "Like proud dad status already."

Something warm bloomed in Naz's chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Even when we were being dicks about DNA tests and-" Cama cut off as Jude elbowed him hard. "Ow! What? I'm admitting I was wrong!"

"You suggested a DNA test?" Naz's voice went flat.

"I was being stupid! Really stupid! Like, maximum stupidity!"

"The stupidest," Jude added helpfully.

"But Aurel shut that down quick," Cama hurried on. "Like, scary quick. Said he knew you, trusted you. Said we didn't know shit about what you two had."

"And he was right," Jude said. "We didn't know shit. Still don't, really. But we want to. If you'll let us?"

Naz studied them both – Cama with his nervous energy, Jude with his earnest face. These boys who'd become such a big part of her life through Aurélien, who she'd missed more than she'd want to admit.

"The flowers are a good start," she said finally.

Their relief was palpable. Cama immediately launched into stories about what she'd missed – training drama, club gossip, Jude's latest attempts at Spanish that had nearly given their language coach an aneurysm.

It felt… normal. Like before. Except now when Cama got too loud, Jude would shush him with "Hospital, mate!" And when the nurse came in to check vitals, they both hovered like worried brothers.

"So," Cama said when things settled again. "You're keeping it?"

"Yeah." Naz's hand found her stomach again. "We are."

"Cool, cool." He tried to look casual. "And like, hypothetically, if someone wanted to be godfather…"

"Already calling dibs?" Aurélien's voice came from the doorway, freshly showered and carrying what looked like half a bakery's worth of pastries.

"Just putting it out there!" Cama defended. "Getting my bid in early!"

"Mate, if anyone's godfather material here, it's obviously me," Jude argued.

"The fuck you are! I've known them longer!"

"Yeah but I'm more responsible-"

"Maybe we should let the actual parents decide?" Naz suggested, catching Aurélien's amused look.

"Or maybe," he said, setting down the pastries, "we focus on getting you out of here first? Doctor's coming by soon to talk about discharge."

That sobered everyone up. Reality crashing back in – decisions to make, plans to figure out.

But looking at them all – Aurélien's steady presence, Cama's boundless energy, Jude's quiet support – Naz felt something settle in her chest.

"So..." Cama shifted in his chair, looking unusually uncomfortable. "About Destiny..."

"What about her?" Naz's voice went flat. Just hearing that name made her tense.

Cama and Jude exchanged looks.

"She's, uh..." Jude started.

"She's been hanging around training," Cama finished. "With Vini."

Naz blinked. "What?"

"With Vinicius," Aurélien clarified, his jaw tightening. "They're... together."

"Together?" Naz's voice went up an octave. "Like... together together?"

"If you could say that," Cama nodded. "Started showing up about a week ago. All over him and shit."

"Fucking hell," Naz whispered, then let out a laugh that held no humor. "So she went from trying to trap you," she looked at Cama, "to actually getting with Vini to trap him?"

"Wait, she tried to trap-" Jude started.

"Long story," Cama cut in quickly. "But yeah. She's... around now."

"Does Vini know?" Naz asked. "About what she did with the blogs?"

The boys exchanged another look.

"He knows something came out about you and Aurel," Jude said carefully. "But not that she was behind it."

"Should probably tell him though," Cama added. "Before she tries some other shit."

"It's not my place," Naz said, picking at her blanket. "If she makes him happy..."

"She doesn't make anyone happy," Aurélien's voice was sharp. "She causes problems. Look what she did to you."

"Aurel-"

"No, he's right," Cama leaned forward. "What she did? Putting your business out there like that? That wasn't cool. And now she's acting like nothing happened, trying to be all serious with Vini..."

"While you're in here dealing with real shit," Jude finished.

Naz felt tears pricking at her eyes. Damn hormones. "I just... I thought she was my friend, you know?"

"Nah," Cama shook his head. "Real friends don't do what she did. Real friends show up when you need them."

"Like we should have," Jude added quietly.

"Better late than never," Naz managed a small smile.

"Still," Cama stood up, pacing now. "Someone should tell Vini. She's already trying to get into the WAGs group chat, acting like she's been around forever."

"The what now?"

"The wives and girlfriends group," Aurélien explained. "They have a chat."

"Which Destiny's definitely not getting added to," Cama said firmly. "Not after what she pulled."

"The girls already said no way," Jude added. "They've got your back, Naz."

"They do?"

"Course they do," Aurélien moved closer to her bed. "They've been asking about you. Want to help when... you know. When we announce everything properly."

The reality of that hit her. Soon everyone would know – not just about her and Aurélien, but about the baby. The thought made her head spin a bit.

"One thing at a time," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Aurélien squeezed her hand. "One thing at a time."

But knowing Destiny was out there, probably plotting her next move, made Naz's stomach turn. Or maybe that was just morning sickness. Hard to tell these days.

The doctor's visit came as a welcome interruption, discussing discharge plans and follow-up care. Aurélien translated the more technical terms, his hand never leaving hers.

Later, driving back to his place, Naz finally brought up what had been weighing on her. "What's your PR team doing about all this?"

"We're focusing on us and the baby," he said firmly. "Making it work. You just tell me and Simon if people get weird."

"Like with death threats?"

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You've been getting those?"

"Not really, but trolls have been calling me a 'cum bucket' and 'dirty whore' so I think death threats are the next step?" She tried for humor, but Aurélien wasn't having it.

"Nazanin, this is serious. We're growing a baby together. If someone hurt either one of you-"

"I know, Aurélien. I'll let you know."

Silence fell as they stopped at a red light.

"Should I stay at home then? To not make this worse?"

"Make what worse?"

"When I get bigger? Should I stay home?"

"Why? You're not a hermit."

"The press will-"

"I don't give a fuck about them. Why would I have you stay at home because you're pregnant? No, you're still gonna do what you've always done: come to matches, hang out with friends. I'm not going to hide you or our baby. Not anymore. If they don't like it, fuck them."

The light turned green and he started driving again.

"So you will like seeing me big and pregnant at your matches?" she asked, voice turning playful, hormones making her bold.

His eyes cut to her for the briefest second, a grin playing at his lips. "Naz... my family is at the house." Not a warning, just a reminder.

"I can be quiet," she muttered, thinking he couldn't hear.

"Nasty gyal Naz," he teased.

"At least we don't have to worry about condoms anymore."

He chuckled. "We wasn't worried about them before anyways... but noted." He tilted his head. "If you can be quiet..."

"Yeah?"

"I might can swing some dick your way..."

"Oh? Just some?"

"All of it if you're a good girl."

"I can be a good girl."

He glanced at her again, licking his lips. "You're about to get fucked in this car if you keep acting like this, Nazanin."

"And if this was the goal...?"

"NAZ!" The sound was somewhere between a shriek and a groan.

"Okay, okay. I'll be good... for daddy." She said the last part teasingly.

Aurélien shook his head. "Mon dieu."

But his smile said he wasn't really complaining. After everything – the hospital, the stress, the decisions – this felt normal. Them being them, despite everything changing.

The moment they walked through the door, Anne Maisha and Yannis practically ambushed them, wrapping Naz in careful hugs.

"Easy," Aurélien warned, hovering like a protective shadow. "She needs rest."

"I'm fine-" Naz started, but he was already in full leader mode, the same energy he brought to the pitch now focused entirely on her wellbeing.

"Nap time," he declared, brooking no argument. "We'll be upstairs."

Neither of his siblings argued – they knew that tone as well as anyone.

The moment they hit his bedroom though, Naz was on him, rising to her tiptoes to press kisses along his neck. Her hands roamed under his shirt, seeking warm skin, but he caught her wrists gently.

"Naz," his voice was soft but firm. "We need to talk first… then maybe we can do something a little later."

She pouted but let him guide her to sit on the bed. "Fine. Talk."

He sat next to her, keeping hold of one of her hands. "We need a real plan. Not just nursery furniture and maybes."

"I know." She picked at his comforter with her free hand. "My lease in London…"

"I'll handle the lease. Pay whatever penalty-"

"Aurel, I can't just leave Kiki hanging. She's been a good roommate."

"Then we help her find someone new. Or I cover both parts until she does." When she started to protest, he squeezed her hand. "Naz, money isn't the issue here. Making sure you and the baby are taken care of is."

"But what am I supposed to do here? My Spanish is shit, finding work-"

"There are international companies in Madrid. Clinics that need English-speaking therapists. Or you could work remotely with London clients." He'd clearly been thinking about this. "Whatever you want to do, we'll make it work."

"I don't want to just… exist on your money."

"I know. That's one of the things I lo-" He caught himself. "That's one of the things I admire about you. But right now, let me help. Let me make sure you're both safe and comfortable while you figure out what you want."

She looked at him properly then, at the earnestness in his face. "You've really thought about this."

"Had a lot of time to think in that hospital chair." His thumb traced circles on her palm. "Watching you hooked up to those monitors… scared the shit out of me, Naz. Made me realize we need to do this right."

"And right means…?"

"You here. With me. Building something real, not just flying in for weekends and hookups." He shifted to face her fully. "I want to do this properly. All of it."

"Properly?" Naz raised an eyebrow. "You sound like your mom."

"Naz…"

"What? What does 'properly' even mean?"

He shifted to face her fully. "It means I want to do this right. Actually date you, not just weekend hookups and FaceTime calls."

"Since when?"

"Remember that weekend in Paris? When you wore that red dress to dinner?"

She remembered. Four months ago, before all this. He'd flown her out after a tough match, said he needed to get away for a bit.

"You were thinking about us being serious back then?"

"I was thinking about a lot of things." His hand found her stomach. "Just didn't know how to say them without fucking everything up."

"And now?"

"Now we're having a baby. Now you're moving to Madrid. Now seems like a good time to stop pretending this isn't exactly what I want."

"What about football? Your career?"

"What about it? You think I'm the first player to have a family?"

"But the pressure-"

"Is already there. Will always be there." He shifted closer. "But coming home to you? To our baby? That makes it worth it."

"Even with all the complications? The distance until I can move? Finding work? Learning Spanish?"

"We take it one step at a time." His voice was steady, sure. "First, we get you moved. I'll handle the lease, help Kiki find a new roommate. You focus on packing, on staying healthy."

"And work?"

"Take your time. Find something that fits. Maybe start with remote clients from London while you learn Spanish?" He grinned. "Though your accent is kind of cute."

"Shut up," but she was smiling too.

"Then we look at houses."

That stopped her. "Houses?"

"This place is great for now, but eventually? We'll need more space. A bigger yard for the baby-"

"Aurel, slow down!"

"Sorry." But he didn't look sorry at all. "Just… I can see it, you know? Us building something real. If you want that too."

She studied his face – the hope there, the certainty. This was Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of the best midfielders in the world, talking about their future together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I do want it," she admitted softly. "It just… scares me sometimes. How much I want it."

"Good." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Means it matters."

"Your mom's going to be impossible about all this."

He laughed. "Already is. Pretty sure she's planning the baby shower already."

"And the team?"

"Are family too. You saw Cama and Jude today. Even the WAGs want to help."

"God, the WAGs." She groaned. "I'm going to be a WAG."

"You're going to be whatever you want to be. My girl, a mom, a therapist, anything else you dream up. The WAG thing? That's just… extra."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Well yeah. Unless that's moving too fast…" His teasing smile made her roll her eyes.

"We're literally having a baby."

"True. But I still want to take you on proper dates. Do this right."

She nodded against his chest. "I'd like that."

"Good." His voice dropped lower. "So about that 'something later' I promised…"

"Oh, now you want to-"

His kiss cut off her teasing, and suddenly plans and futures and complications didn't seem quite so important anymore.

................tbd

#aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchouameni x black oc

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mauvecherie-writes · 7 days ago

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She can do whatever she wants to me

miss feburary 🎉🍰💝

#mauvecherie writes #megan thee stallion

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mauvecherie-writes · 7 days ago

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The guttural sound I just made looking at him is crazy.

#mauvecherie writes #lewis hamilton #he’s too beautiful

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mauvecherie-writes · 8 days ago

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Seeing how Ferrari are treating Lewis rn in contrast to that team really shows me how much of their dynamic had changed. Him and that team were stuck at a tolerable level of permanent unhappiness because of sunk cost fallacy.

You don’t understand how happy I am for Lewis and this new chapter. With every video, you can just feel his infectious energy and the joy he has - almost kidlike.

That’s really my pookie 😭🤚🏾

Lewis’s first Day in Ferrari video

#mauvecherie writes #lewis hamilton #forza ferrari #scuderia ferrari #lh #sir lewis hamilton #formula one #formula one 2025 #f1 #f1 2025

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mauvecherie-writes · 9 days ago

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💋 let’s get queen ru a new laptop campaign 💋

I had made a previous post about raising money to get me a new laptop. This is now the official post. I have been unemployed for the last year and some months and getting an interview alone has been really tough but I still really want to continue writing. However, I’ve only been using an iPad and going to my library when I have the time. I feel like I’d be more engaging with a proper laptop to work on.

Donation is not mandatory but it is very much welcomed. I’m hoping to reach a goal of £300. Every little helps and thank you all for your continuous support 🩷

Raised so far: £80/300

PayPal link

CashApp: $justdanixo

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mauvecherie-writes · 10 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/mauvecherie-writes/775302937156222976/me-and-my-girls-will-not-be-watching-sinners-lol?source=share

And don't forget, they already giving credit to the white woman, and yet there's plenty of (dark skin) black women who did an outstanding job (they're not even getting a lick of appreciation) so I already have Dr Umar feelings about this movie.

I don’t like Hailee Steinfield and I’m sure if I search the internet there’s some odd shit about her. So I was already not feeling good about her being in the movie. But this whole defence of JM has completely put me off him and the movie.

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mauvecherie-writes · 10 days ago

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It was certainly a choice, he stayed quiet all this time, not a word, no job, no content, and suddenly, when attention were coming back to him, he decided to say this. Geez, how this man is dumb and tbh I'm side eyeing him a lot now

I’ve been giving him the benefit of the doubt for a while but this was the last straw for me 🤣

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mauvecherie-writes · 10 days ago

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£42/£300

Every little helps 🩷

PayPal link

Hi lovies,

I’m going to try and start this again. If y’all can support me raise money to get a new laptop would really mean the world to me. As of now I’ve been typing on my iPad and going to my uni library as I’ve not been able to find work (been looking for a job since last year)

Every little helps and it would mean the world to me 🩷 thank you 🩷

PayPal (Goal is £300)

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mauvecherie-writes · 10 days ago

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Your tag 😭😭😂😂

Me and my girls will not be watching Sinners lol. Saying that a whole two months before the movie comes out was a choice. Lol.

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mauvecherie-writes · 10 days ago

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Me and my girls will not be watching Sinners lol. Saying that a whole two months before the movie comes out was a choice. Lol.

#mauvecherie writes

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mauvecherie-writes · 10 days ago

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Thank god we binned destiny and those stupid friends from the jump 😭 I don’t like people like Cama who ask controversial questions when they can clearly see their friend is processing something. Like time and place my guy.

I really hope Naz finds a good support system outside of Aurel and his uncle. It’s looking like her mother will be an issue but I hope not for long because it’s not what she needs rn.

Good chapter babes!

OFFSIDES (chapter 1) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️💕✨) # wc: 8.16k

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

Naz stared at her phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. Still nothing from Aurélien. Not even those stupid little notification bubbles that showed he'd at least seen her messages.

"Girl, this is not okay," Destiny said, sprawled across Naz's bed. "I don't care if he's Aurélien Tchouaméni or the king of Spain – you can't just ghost someone like that."

"He's not ghosting me," Naz muttered, but even she didn't believe it anymore. "He's probably just busy with-"

"With what? Call Cama."

"I'm not calling Eduardo."

"Yes, you are." Destiny was already grabbing Naz's phone. "If anyone knows what's up with your man, it's his bestie."

Before Naz could stop her, Destiny had Eduardo Camavinga on speaker. His voice filled the room, bright as always: "Ayyyy what's up?"

"Where's your boy at?" Destiny demanded.

"Who, Aurélien? He was supposed to come chill with me and my brothers today but canceled last minute. Why, what's up?"

Naz's stomach dropped. So he wasn't too busy for his phone. He just wasn't answering her.

"What's up is he's being weird," Destiny said. "Not answering calls, leaving messages on read-"

"Look," Cama's voice got serious, which was weird because Naz had never heard him anything but hyper. "It's been rough, yeah? The whistles at the Bernabéu, then that talk on Instagram... maybe he just needs space?"

"He can't have space right now!" Destiny practically yelled.

"Why not?" Now Cama sounded curious. "What's so urgent that-"

Naz grabbed the phone before Destiny could say more. "Cama, just... tell him to call me? Please?"

Something in her voice must've gotten through because all the playfulness dropped from his tone. "Okay. Yeah, I got you."

After they hung up, Naz's mind drifted to last weekend. She'd been in his box at the Bernabéu, watching him play against Espanyol. Before the match, he'd given her this gorgeous gold charm bracelet – a football charm, an 'A' pendant, little shoes (because she was always teasing him about his sneaker collection), and a graduation cap because she'd just finished her master's.

"So you don't forget about me when you're conquering the world," he'd said, fastening it around her wrist.

Like she could ever forget him.

It was crazy how it all started, really. Destiny had been hanging with Cama and his crew at some fancy club in Madrid, and she'd dragged Naz along. Naz remembered being nervous – she might've grown up following football because of her dad's obsession with the sport, but actually being around the players was different.

She'd known exactly who Aurélien was when she first saw him. Had watched enough of his games, read enough articles. Knew about his move from Monaco, the pressure of that price tag, how he'd proved everyone wrong. The way he moved on the pitch like he owned it, all graceful power and perfect positioning.

She also knew the game. Pretty girls and footballers – it was like this dance everyone knew the steps to but no one talked about. So yeah, maybe she made sure to be at the right parties, wear the right things, catch his eye.

But Aurélien had been... different. Even with everything undefined between them, even with no labels or promises, he was sweet. Attentive. Would send her good morning texts with stupid football memes. Would call just to hear about her day. Would show up at her apartment with takeout when she was stressed about her thesis.

Which was why this silence felt so wrong.

Her phone buzzed and her heart jumped – but it was just another worried text from her other friend Gia: girl what are you gonna do???

Naz stared at her reflection in the phone screen, at the gold bracelet catching the light on her wrist.

What was she going to do? Because this secret... it couldn't wait much longer.

She typed out one more message to Aurélien: We need to talk. Please.

Then she waited, watching those three dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, until finally, they stopped altogether.

And that's when she knew something had to give.

"This isn't like him," Naz mumbled, pacing her bedroom. "You don't understand, Des. I literally spent almost every weekend at his place in Madrid. Flying in from London after work on Fridays, staying until Sunday night. His dog Ocho even has his own bed in my apartment for when they visit."

"Girl-"

"I met his uncle, Des. His uncle. You know how private Aurélien is about family."

Destiny watched her from the bed, concern mixing with something harder in her expression. "Naz, breathe. Your anxiety is-"

"No, you don't get it." Naz twisted the gold bracelet on her wrist. "During the Euros? I was there every day. When France didn't make it to finals, he was... God, he was so wrecked. And I just held him, you know? Let him be upset without trying to fix it."

"Yeah, and that's sweet and all, but-" Destiny sat up straighter, her expression shifting. "Maybe he's giving that same comfort to someone else right now."

Naz froze. "What?"

"You know what I mean." Destiny's voice went gentle but firm. "Quality time. The horizontal kind."

"No." Naz shook her head. "Aurélien isn't like that-"

"Girl, get a fucking grip!" Destiny's braids swung as she threw up her hands. "He's a fine-ass footballer playing for Real Madrid. One of the biggest clubs in La Liga. He's drowning in pussy. He doesn't care about you or that-"

Naz's phone lit up, Aurélien's name flashing across the screen. Her heart jumped until she read the message: what's up why are you hitting up cama?

The tone was all wrong. Cold. Accusatory. Like she'd violated some unspoken rule by reaching out to his friend.

Before she could respond, Destiny snatched the phone. "I'll respond," she said, pushing her braids over her shoulder. "This nigga got you acting funny and I don't like it. You're not playing the game right, Naz."

Right. The game. The jersey chasing game that Naz was never fully invested in, not like Destiny who had WAG dreams and vision boards. For Naz, it had started as an escape from thesis stress that just happened to come with designer perks. Yeah, maybe at first she'd thought about the lavish vacations and gifts, but then...

Then she'd actually gotten to know him. Seen how he'd light up talking about tactics, how he'd spend hours playing with Ocho, how he'd call her at 3 AM just to hear her voice after a tough match.

Destiny handed the phone back, and Naz's eyes went wide at the paragraph her friend had sent: accusations of him being ain't shit, demands about why he'd been ignoring the SOS signals, a whole essay of confrontation.

Those three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Naz's stomach twisted – she knew exactly what was happening in his head. Aurélien hated confrontation. His whole vibe was chill, level-headed, always taking the higher ground. He'd rather walk away than—

Aurélien: fine Naz. Whatever you say. I thought if anyone knew what I was going through would be you right? Guess not. Guess that psychology degree seems worthless. Sorry I ignored you - had a rough few days and needed time to cool off and see that therapist you wanted me to get so badly. My communication sucked but you know I always get back to you. Well I thought you did. ✌🏾

That peace emoji. Naz's heart dropped. She knew what that meant – bye, adios, I'm done. Aurélien Tchouaméni had officially clocked the fuck out.

"No no no," she frantically typed back, but the messages wouldn't deliver. Called, but got that automated voice: "Sorry, the number you dialed cannot be reached at this moment. Please hang up and try again."

She tried again. And again. And again.

Because that was another thing about Aurélien – sweet as candy, yes, but also petty as all hell when pushed too far.

He'd blocked her.

She stared at Destiny, horror dawning. "What the fuck was that, Des?"

The bracelet felt heavy on her wrist now, each charm a reminder of everything she might have just lost. And the secret she still hadn't told him? The real reason she'd been so desperate to reach him?

It sat like lead in her stomach, growing heavier by the second.

"He blocked you? Wow, what a dead beat ass-"

"Des, shut up!" Naz screamed, making Destiny's eyes widen in shock. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "This isn't what I wanted, what I needed, what the... what the baby I'm carrying needs."

Des let out a dry chuckle. "What do you even mean?" She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. "You can milk this, bleed him fucking dry. Do you know how many gossip blogs would kill to have this info? Like you can be set-"

"Des, I don't give a fuck about that, not right now." Naz's voice cracked. "I just found out I'm pregnant and my child's father just blocked me. What's not clicking?"

"No one told you to be out here fucking him without a condom anyways." Des rolled her eyes. "I mean who rawdogs an athlete unless that was your angle all along..." Her voice trailed off as she literally pondered for a second. "Hmm maybe I should have Vini knock me up?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Naz screeched and threw a throw pillow at her.

"Bitch, that hurt," Des said as the pillow hit her face.

"I don't care, Des. You're out here plotting about trapping Vini instead of worrying about your friend. You know how fucked up that sounds?"

Des rolled her eyes again, adjusting her clothes as she stood up from Naz's bed. "Girl whatever, I was trying to help you out, remember? You wanted all the nice pretty things and I told you these men don't care about us and your dumb ass got pregnant. Not my fault." She smoothed down her shirt. "Now you have two choices: abort that baby or have it be your golden egg. And as your friend, I'm gonna do what's best for you."

"Des, don't do anything stupid. You know how Aurélien-"

"I don't give a fuck. You're out of options, Nazanin." Des's voice turned hard. "You're not having any luck finding a new job and how will you support a baby?"

The words hit like bullets because Des had a point. Her current job barely covered her bills, and sure, she could treat herself occasionally when Aurélien wasn't spoiling her, but a baby? In her two-bedroom apartment with a roommate who hardly ever leaves?

But abortion...

"I can't do that," Naz said, sinking into her office chair. A tear rolled down her cheek as she shook her head. The stress was already too much – she could feel it in her bones, in the constant nausea she'd been fighting all week. "I can't do that without letting him know about it first."

"Well too late for that 'cuz you got blocked," Des said, her words cutting deeper than she probably meant them to.

Naz pressed her hand against her still-flat stomach. Just this morning, she'd walked into that clinic thinking about getting an implant because clearly, she and Aurélien needed to be more careful. Instead, she'd walked out with news that changed everything – six weeks pregnant. Six weeks of a life they'd created together, probably during one of those weekend visits where they'd gotten careless, too caught up in each other to think about consequences.

She thought about Aurélien, how attentive he was with everything else in their undefined relationship. How he'd notice if she was tired or stressed, would remember her favorite foods, would call just to make sure she got home safe after late flights. He deserved to know about this baby. He was equally responsible for this life they'd created, even if right now he was being petty and blocking her because of Des's stupid text.

"He needs to know," Naz said finally, wiping her eyes. "I don't care about money or support or any of that shit you're thinking about, Des. But he deserves to know he's going to be a father before we make any decisions."

"And how exactly are you planning to tell him when he's blocked your number?" Des demanded. "Gonna show up at training? Send a carrier pigeon? Call Cama again?"

The reality of the situation hit Naz full force. Here she was, six weeks pregnant, blocked by the father of her child, and her best friend was more concerned about how to manipulate the situation than actually helping.

Actions meet consequences indeed.

A week of silence felt like forever. Not just from Aurélien, but from everyone – Cama stopped answering, even Jude ghosted her. Funny how quick football friends disappeared when you weren't in the inner circle anymore.

Now here she was, sitting in a clinic exam room, trying not to throw up for the third time today. Earlier, in the waiting room, a heavily pregnant woman had smiled at her, offered advice about ginger tea for morning sickness. Naz had managed a weak "thanks" before the nurse called her back.

The exam table paper crinkled under her as she thought about how spectacularly everything had blown up. Des had taken matters into her own hands, sending those pictures to the gossip blogs – Naz at Aurélien's matches, in his private box, wearing his gifts. She'd thought maybe it would get his attention.

Instead, all she got was internet hate. Thirsty. Clout chaser. Another jersey hunter. People digging into her past, trying to find dirt. And still nothing from Aurélien.

"Have you considered termination?" The nurse asked gently.

Naz turned to stare at a poster about fetal development, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"You don't have to do this, you know. There's other options."

"Like what?" Naz snapped, immediately regretting her tone.

"Adoption? Or maybe raising the baby yourself? I'm a single mum and I have this group of women who are my support system. Do you have that, Nazanin?"

Naz shook her head. Gia would help if she wasn't across the continent, but Des? That bridge was burned. And moving back to New Jersey? To her mom and stepfather's judgmental house? They'd treat her like shit even if they loved the baby. But isn't that what being a parent meant – sacrificing comfort for your child?

"How long do I have to decide?" Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

The nurse explained the timeline, mentioned seeing a counselor first. "You seem like you have a lot on your mind right now. I don't think it's best to make these certain decisions at the moment."

"But I-"

"Nazanin, abortion is a serious thing to consider. Your mental health is important as well. Are you in contact with the child's father? Maybe-"

Her phone rang – unknown number. Her heart dropped to her shoes.

"I'll give you time to answer that." The nurse slipped out, leaving Naz alone with her racing thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Naz, what the fuck are you doing?" Aurélien's voice came through angry, other voices murmuring in the background.

"Give me the phone, Aurélien," she heard his uncle say, followed by scuffling.

"Nazanin, it's Bertrand." His usually warm voice was formal, distant.

"Hi," she croaked, sniffling.

"Nazanin, what is happening? I understand you and Aurélien are not seeing each other anymore but to put it on the blogs..." His disappointed tone broke something in her. She let out a sob. "Nazanin, are you okay?"

"Give me the phone, uncle." Aurélien's voice commanded. Patience had never been his strong suit when he was upset about something.

"Djani, I am handling this for you. Please show patience." Bertrand's tone was firm, used to managing his nephew's temperamental moments.

"Is Aurélien there?" Naz asked quietly.

"I can put the phone on speaker. Hold on." More scuffling and rustling filled the line. "He's here. He's listening now."

"Hey Naz." Aurélien's voice softened, sounding like her Aurélien again, the anger seemingly dissipated.

"Am I still your favorite artist?" She couldn't help asking, remembering their inside joke about sharing a name with the rapper.

He chuckled. "Always." Then quoted their favorite Nas lyric.

She smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry. Destiny thought-"

"I never liked that girl," Uncle Bertrand huffed.

"Yeah... she's something."

"Her spirit is not pure. I told you, Aurél, that it wasn't Nazanin's fault."

"It is my fault though. I told her to-"

"She manipulated you, Nazanin," Uncle Bertrand cut in. "We can apologize once you're back in Madrid."

"Uncle-"

"You need to apologize, Aurélien. We need to make this right."

"I know I do. I should've never sent that text to you, Nazanin."

"I know, Aurél. We made some mistakes."

"I was so upset-" Aurélien started, but Uncle Bertrand interrupted again.

"We can talk when she gets here."

Aurélien opened his mouth to say something else, but then the hospital PA system crackled overhead, and his tone changed instantly. "Nazanin, is everything okay? Why are you at the hospital?"

Her protector. Her lion. Always the one watching out for everyone else, even when he was angry.

"Aurélien, we need to talk."

"About?" His confusion was clear in his voice.

She heard Uncle Bertrand's soft "fuck" as he figured it out.

"Naz, what's going on?"

One deep breath. Two. Her news, the one she'd been holding onto for almost two weeks, exploded out of her mouth: "I'm pregnant."

Uncle Bertrand's louder "fuck" echoed through the phone, but from Aurélien? Nothing but silence.

"Aurélien?"

The line went dead.

Naz stared at her phone, hands shaking. Called back immediately – straight to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. A third time – same thing.

"Fuck," she whispered, then louder, "Fuck!"

The nurse chose that moment to return, taking in Naz's tear-streaked face with practiced sympathy. "Everything alright, love?"

"I just told him," Naz managed, still clutching her phone. "I just told the father and he... the call dropped and now he won't..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice how much it hurt that in this moment, this massive, life-changing moment, Aurélien had gone silent again. Or maybe Uncle Bertrand had taken his phone. Or maybe...

Her phone buzzed – a text from an unknown number. Her heart jumped until she opened it:

Nazanin, this is Bertrand. Aurélien is... processing. Give him a moment. We will call back soon. Please do not make any decisions without speaking to us first.

Us. Like she was dealing with Tchouaméni Management now instead of the man who'd held her through thunderstorms, who'd dance with her in his kitchen, who'd absentmindedly massaged her scalp while watching match footage.

"Do you want to reschedule?" the nurse asked gently. "Maybe take some time to talk things through with the father?"

If he ever calls back, Naz thought bitterly. But she just nodded, gathering her things. "Yeah, I think... I think I need a minute."

Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number:

Don't leave the clinic. Please. - A

Two seconds later:

I'm booking a flight. Stay there. Please.

Then from Bertrand: He's on his way. Hospital name?

Naz's hands were still shaking as she typed out the clinic's name and address. Three dots appeared almost immediately:

Flight booked. 2 hours. Don't move. Don't make any decisions. Please.

The 'please' caught her off guard. Aurélien, Mr. Confident, Mr. Always-In-Control, saying please. Thrice.

"The father's coming," she told the nurse, her voice steadier than she felt. "He's... he's flying in."

The nurse's eyebrows shot up. "Flying in? From where?"

"Madrid." Naz wiped her eyes. "He plays for Real Madrid."

Understanding dawned on the nurse's face – she must have seen the gossip blogs. But instead of judgment, she just squeezed Naz's shoulder. "There's a private waiting room down the hall. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

Naz nodded gratefully, following her to a small room with comfortable chairs and warm lighting. As she sat down, her phone buzzed one more time:

Je suis désolé. For everything. For blocking you. For not listening. For not being there when you found out. I'm coming. We'll figure this out. Together.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, still flat but now feeling somehow different. More real.

"Your papa's coming," she whispered, then laughed wetly at herself for talking to a cluster of cells that couldn't hear her. "He's... he's actually coming."

********************************************************

Two hours and a half later, the door opened, and there he was – Aurélien in a Nike tracksuit, hood pulled up, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything hanging between them.

Then the duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, and Naz was moving before she could think, crashing into his chest as tears started falling. His arms came around her automatically, one hand cradling the back of her head like he always did.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She pulled back enough to look at him, wiping her eyes. "I know what we are, what this was supposed to be. I know this isn't what you wanted-"

"How far along?" he cut in, his voice soft but steady.

"Almost eight weeks."

She watched him do the math in his head, saw the moment it clicked. "Mallorca." She nodded. "Fuck." He ran a hand over his face. "I wanted to go raw that time and look where it got us." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I'm sorry about blocking you too. Too much was in my head, I was angry-"

"We can worry about that later," she cut him off. "Right now we need to think about... about this."

They sat down next to each other, and Aurélien pulled his hood off, clasping his hands together. "What do you want to do?"

Naz tried to keep her voice neutral, clinical. "It's just cells right now, so... an abortion would be-"

She saw something flicker across his face, a tightening around his eyes, but he nodded. "If that's what you want."

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You'll let me go through with it?" Fresh tears were falling now.

"Naz... this is your decision too. You said that if you... abort the baby, it'll be fine. Is that not what you want?"

"I don't know what I want, Aurél."

"I don't either. This wasn't planned."

"No fucking shit!" The chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly.

Aurélien held his head in his hands, pulling lightly at his fresh taper fade, before letting out a groan. "Naz, we have to make a decision, okay? We can't keep running around and arguing about this. You're eight weeks pregnant, Nazanin, we have a timeline to... make a choice."

She folded her arms over her chest. "What do you want?"

"Naz... I really don't know..."

"Do you want me to abort the baby?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nazanin." He rolled his eyes.

"Tell me, Aurélien... do you?" More emphasis this time, demanding an answer.

He went quiet, biting his bottom lip in that way he did when he was really thinking, probably running through every possible outcome in that tactical mind of his. The silence stretched until she was about to scream, when-

"Yes..." His eyes met hers, and she felt like someone had punched the air from her lungs. Those eyes that were usually so warm, so playful, now held something deeper – fear, uncertainty, a desperate need to make the right choice. "And no. Would having an abortion make things a hundred times easier – yes, but what about where that leaves you? We're 24 years old, Nazanin – this isn't like changing coursework at university. This is a baby. A human-"

"It's cells right now!"

"Don't give me that, Nazanin!" His shout made her flinch slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but don't try to be stale with your emotions. I know you are thinking about it too. A baby will make things hard for the both of us. We have to figure what we have out and make decisions on how to raise that baby. Would we just co-parent or would we be together?"

"I'm not gonna be a baby mama." Her voice was firm.

"And I don't want you to be, but what we have right now was casual... even though we only was with each other, it was still that. What I'm trying to say is – fuck!" He yanked at his hair again, frustration evident in every movement. "Naz, this wasn't supposed to happen. Shit, not like this."

"I know."

Naz sank back into her chair, suddenly exhausted. "What would your uncle say?"

"Uncle Bertrand?" Aurélien let out a dry laugh. "He's probably already planning the baby shower. You know how he is about family."

"And your parents?"

His jaw tightened. "They'd... adjust. Eventually." He turned to look at her. "What about yours?"

"My mom would probably fly straight to London just to kill me herself." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Then she'd resurrect me just to lecture me about how I threw my life away for a footballer."

"You didn't throw your life away-"

"Didn't I though?" Her voice cracked. "Everything I worked for, my degree, my career... having a baby now would-"

"Who says you have to give any of that up?" There was an edge to his voice now. "You think I'd let you do this alone? You think I wouldn't make sure you and the baby had everything you needed?"

"That's not the point, Aurélien! I don't want to be some footballer's baby mama living off child support-"

"Stop saying that!" He was on his feet now, pacing the small room. "You're not just some... We're not..." He stopped, running his hands over his face. "Fuck, Naz, you will never be that to me. You know that."

She looked up at him, heart pounding. "Do I?"

"Eight months, Nazanin. Eight months of me flying you out every weekend, introducing you to my uncle, giving you keys to my place-"

"While keeping me your little secret-"

"To protect you! You saw what happened the minute those blogs got hold of those pictures. The shit they're saying about you..." He knelt in front of her chair, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to do this right. Take our time. But now..."

"Now what?"

"Now we have about seven months to figure out how to be parents." His thumbs traced circles on her palms. "If... if that's what you want."

Naz stared at their joined hands, at how his dwarfed hers. Hands that could control a ball with perfect precision, that could change the direction of a game, that were now offering to help guide her through this mess they'd created.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Me too." His honesty surprised her. Aurélien Tchouaméni, always so sure of himself, admitting fear. "But maybe that's okay? Maybe being scared means we're taking this seriously?"

"The press would have a field day."

"Fuck the press."

"Your career-"

"Will be fine. I'm not the first footballer to have a baby."

"Your girlfriend might object though," she couldn't help adding.

His head snapped up. "What girlfriend?"

"The model. The one they keep linking you to in the papers."

He actually laughed. "Naz, the only woman who's been in my bed for the past eight months is you. The only woman who has keys to my place is you. The only woman my dog actually listens to is you." His expression softened. "The only woman I want to figure this out with is you."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "That's not fair. You can't say things like that when my hormones are all over the place."

His laugh was gentler this time. "Sorry." He reached up to wipe her tears away. "But I mean it. Whatever we decide – about the baby, about us – we do it together. No more blocking, no more games, no more letting other people get in our heads."

"Even Destiny?"

"Especially Destiny." He made a face. "Uncle Bertrand was right about her spirit."

That startled a laugh out of her. "Your uncle and his spiritual readings."

"He's never wrong though." Aurélien's expression turned serious again. "So what do you say? We take some time, really think about this? No pressure, no rushed decisions. Just... figure it out together?"

Naz looked at him – really looked at him. At the man who'd flown across countries the moment she needed him, who was on his knees in front of her offering support instead of easy solutions. At the potential father of her child.

"Together," she agreed softly.

His relief was visible. "Together." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Now can we get out of this clinic? Hospitals make me nervous and I haven't eaten since I got your call."

"You're always hungry."

"Growing boy."

"You're literally a professional athlete."

He stood, pulling her up with him. "Exactly. Need to keep my strength up." His hand slid to her still-flat stomach. "Especially now."

The gesture should have felt presumptuous, but instead it felt... right. Like maybe they could actually do this.

A soft knock interrupted them, and the nurse from earlier poked her head in. Her eyes widened slightly at Aurélien's presence – of course she recognized him – but she maintained her professional demeanor.

"Everything alright in here?" she asked, though her gentle smile suggested she'd heard enough of their conversation to know things were better.

"Yeah," Naz managed, suddenly aware she was still holding Aurélien's hand. "We're just..."

"Taking things one step at a time," Aurélien finished, giving her hand a squeeze.

The nurse nodded. "Would you like to see the baby? You're far enough along for an ultrasound."

Naz felt Aurélien tense beside her. "We can... we can do that?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Of course. Let me get you two into a proper exam room first, and I'll give you some information about all your options." She gestured for them to follow her.

The new room was bigger, with an ultrasound machine and an exam table. The nurse handed them several pamphlets – Naz tried not to focus too hard on the ones about termination – and went through Naz's chart.

"Everything looks good so far," she said, patting the exam table. "Hop up here, love. Dad, you can sit right there."

Dad. The word made Aurélien's breath catch audibly.

"This might be a bit cold," the nurse warned as she applied the gel to Naz's stomach. Aurélien moved his chair closer, his eyes fixed on the screen.

For a moment, there was just static, and then...

"There we go," the nurse said softly. "See that little flutter? That's the heartbeat."

Naz heard Aurélien's sharp intake of breath. She turned to look at him and found his eyes were glassy, his usually composed expression cracking around the edges.

"Quite strong for eight weeks," the nurse continued, taking measurements. "Everything looks perfectly normal. Would you like a picture to take home?"

"Yes," Aurélien said immediately, then looked at Naz. "If... if that's okay?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Because that flutter on the screen... that was real. That was their baby. Not just cells, but a actual heartbeat and an embryo.

The nurse printed two copies of the ultrasound – "One for each of you" – and helped Naz clean up. "I'll give you a moment," she said, heading for the door. "When you're ready, there's a private exit through the back. I assume you'd prefer that?"

Aurélien nodded gratefully. Being spotted at a women's clinic was the last thing either of them needed right now.

Once they were alone, he looked down at the ultrasound picture in his hands. His fingers traced the tiny shape that would become their child.

"It's so small," he whispered.

"Yeah." Naz slid off the table, straightening her clothes.

"But that heartbeat..." He shook his head in wonder. "That was... fuck, Naz."

"I know." She leaned into him, and his arm came around her automatically.

"You still scared?"

"Terrified."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Me too. But maybe a little less than before?"

She nodded against his chest. The flutter of that heartbeat had changed something, made it all more real but also somehow less overwhelming. Maybe because now they were facing it together.

"Come on," he said finally, grabbing his duffel bag. "Let's get out of here. We can grab some food, talk more about everything."

The nurse was waiting by the back exit, holding the door open for them. "Take care of each other," she said softly as they passed.

Aurélien's hand found the small of Naz's back, guiding her through the door into the afternoon sun. His other hand was still holding the ultrasound picture, tucked safely in his pocket like something precious.

Maybe because it was.

Aurélien stifled another yawn as he sat against the training pitch wall, water bottle dangling from his fingers. The 5 AM flight from London had him running on fumes, but it wasn't just the lack of sleep weighing on him. Last night with Naz had been... intense. Hours of tears and whispered conversations, trying to map out a future neither of them had planned for.

He'd held her while she cried about her career, about her mother's inevitable reaction, about all the ways this could go wrong. Then she'd held him when the reality of everything finally hit and he'd broken down too.

Uncle Bertrand's lecture still rang in his ears: "Sexual responsibility, Djani. Being a man means facing consequences." Like he didn't know that. Like the ultrasound picture burning a hole in his wallet wasn't consequence enough.

Fling. The word kept bouncing around his head, making him grimace. That's what everyone would call Naz – his fling, his hookup, maybe his special friend if they were being polite. But how do you label someone who's seen you at your lowest after losing crucial matches? Someone who stays up till 3 AM discussing racism in football commentary? Someone who gets why you sometimes feel like you're not enough, even when you're playing for Real Madrid?

And now she was carrying his child.

"Yo." Cama's voice cut through his thoughts as his teammate dropped down beside him. Jude wasn't far behind, settling into the grass with that easy confidence of his.

"You look like shit, mate," Jude offered helpfully.

Aurélien took another swig of water. "Early flight."

"From London?" Cama's tone was careful, too careful. "We saw the blogs. About Naz."

The ultrasound picture felt heavier in his wallet. "Yeah."

"Everything good?" Jude asked, and Aurélien could hear the real question underneath: Are you good?

He stared out at the training pitch, at the pristine grass that had always been his escape. But football couldn't solve this one. Couldn't tell him how to be a father at 24, how to protect Naz from the media shitstorm that was coming, how to balance a baby with his career.

"She's pregnant," he said finally, the words still feeling foreign on his tongue.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then:

"Fuck," from Jude.

"Putain," from Cama.

Aurélien let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah."

"What are you gonna do?" Cama asked, all traces of his usual playfulness gone.

"Keep it." He didn't realize he'd made that decision until the words came out. "I want to keep it."

"You sure?" Jude's voice was gentle. "It's a lot, mate. The press alone..."

"Fuck the press." Aurélien pulled the ultrasound from his wallet, looked at that tiny flutter of life that had changed everything. "We saw the heartbeat yesterday. It's... it's real."

His teammates leaned in to look at the picture, and for a moment, they were just three young guys staring at something miraculous and terrifying.

"What if she goes through with it?" Jude asked carefully. "The abortion. Would you be mad?"

Aurélien stared at the grass, rolling the water bottle between his palms. Was he ready to be a father? Hell no. But could he just let Naz terminate their pregnancy? The thought made his stomach turn.

"I can't be mad at her. It's her choice too," he said finally. "I support her right to her choice, but... it's different when it's your baby."

"Is it your baby though?" Cama's face had that weird look he got when he was about to say something controversial. Both Jude and Aurélien glared at him. "We know those types of girls.... we fuck 'em and leave 'em but they have other plans."

"Naz isn't like that," Aurélien's voice went hard.

"Naz who also hangs out with Destiny who was with me and is now making her way through the team," Cama pushed back.

Aurélien let out a frustrated huff. "Naz never gave me that vibe. She even shared her location - she was too focused on me."

"Whoa, she shared her location with you?" Jude's eyebrows shot up.

"Once or twice. Thing is, I always knew where she was at.... so yeah, definitely my baby."

Jude scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't believe you went raw. Like condoms aren't fun and all, but they protect you."

"Thanks Jude, really needed that advice," Aurélien said sarcastically.

"But you want a baby?" Cama pressed. "Bro, you won't be able to have fun."

"I can still have fun, but it'll be different now. Have to be more responsible."

"No more clubs, no more trips... you'll be out here worrying about nappies and which bottle is best." Jude sounded almost sad about it.

Aurélien shrugged. "I'm a homebody anyways, so what's the point? Is this what I want right now while going through this bullshit? No. But I was there making that baby with her, so it is what it is."

"I still think you should do a DNA test first." Aurélien shot Cama another glare, and his teammate put up his hands in surrender. "Just for your peace of mind."

"It's too early to do that. We'd have to keep it and then wait to do one."

"Fuck..." Cama exhaled heavily. "So do you let her get rid of it then?"

"Don't call the baby 'it'," Aurélien snapped. "That's not an 'it'. That's my kid."

The silence that followed was heavy with understanding. This wasn't just about Aurélien anymore, or even about Naz. It was about that tiny flutter of life that had somehow changed everything.

"Whatever she decides..." Jude started carefully.

"Yeah." Aurélien finally tucked the picture away. "Whatever she decides. But fuck, I hope she doesn't..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice his fear that Naz might choose differently, that she might end this before it really began. Because how do you tell someone you want them to keep a baby neither of you planned for? How do you ask them to change their whole life because you can't stop thinking about that little heartbeat?

The whistle blew, signaling the end of their break. As they stood, Cama bumped his shoulder.

"You know we got you, right? Whatever you need."

"Yeah," Jude added. "Even if it's just covering for you when you're falling asleep during training."

Aurélien rolled his eyes, but the knot in his chest loosened slightly. Maybe they weren't ready for any of this – the baby, the responsibility, the scrutiny that was coming. But at least they weren't facing it alone.

Back to football. Back to pretending his whole world hadn't just shifted on its axis.

"Tchouaméni!" Ancelotti called out. "Focus!"

He'd missed a simple pass – the kind he could usually make in his sleep. But his head was somewhere else, somewhere in London with Naz, probably still crying on her bedroom floor.

"Sorry, Coach," he called back, shaking his head to clear it.

Training continued, but every movement felt mechanical. Pass, move, track back. His body knew what to do even if his mind was elsewhere. During shooting practice, he caught himself thinking about baby-proofing his villa. While defending set pieces, he wondered if the baby would have Naz's eyes.

"You're in your head," Cama said during another water break. "Coach is noticing."

"Let him notice." Aurélien took a long drink. "Got bigger things to worry about."

"Like what crib to buy?" Jude teased, but his smile faded when he saw Aurélien's expression. "Wait, are you actually-"

"I looked at some last night," Aurélien admitted quietly. "When Naz finally fell asleep. Found this really nice one, all white with gold trim-"

"Bro," Cama cut in. "You can't be planning nurseries when she hasn't even decided if-"

"I know!" The water bottle crumpled in Aurélien's grip. "You think I don't know that? But what else am I supposed to do? Just sit around waiting for her to decide if my kid gets to exist or not?"

A few teammates glanced their way at his outburst. Jude stepped closer, blocking their view.

"Maybe that's exactly what you need to do," he said gently. "Show her you'll support her either way. That it's really her choice."

"Even if her choice kills me?"

The raw honesty in his voice made both his friends pause. This wasn't their usual Aurélien – confident, composed, always in control. This was someone terrified of losing something he hadn't even known he wanted until yesterday.

"Send her the crib," Cama said suddenly.

"What?"

"Send her the link to the crib you liked. Show her you're thinking about it. About the future. But don't pressure her. Just... let her know you're ready if she is."

Aurélien stared at him. "That's... actually smart."

"I have my moments." Cama grinned. "Now can you please focus on training before Coach makes us all run sprints?"

But focusing was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that ultrasound image. Every time he caught his breath, he heard that tiny heartbeat. And every time his phone buzzed in the locker room, his heart stopped, wondering if this was the message from Naz that would either make or break him.

Because that's what it came down to, really. In less than 48 hours, he'd gone from being Real Madrid's midfielder to potentially being someone's father. And somehow, impossibly, the second title felt bigger than the first.

****************************************************************

After training, Aurélien found Uncle Bertrand waiting in his kitchen, sage burning because "the energy needs cleansing, nephew." The older man was stirring something that smelled like his grandmother's cooking, probably trying to comfort him with food like always.

"You look tired, Djani," Bertrand said, not turning around. "Sit. Eat."

"I'm not hungry-"

"Sit."

Aurélien sat. Some battles weren't worth fighting, especially with Uncle Bertrand.

"Have you spoken to Nazanin today?"

"Not since I left London." He pulled out his phone, staring at their last text exchange from this morning: Landed safely. Get some rest. And her reply: You too.

"You should call her."

"And say what?" Aurélien pushed his food around the plate. "'Hey, I know you're dealing with possibly the biggest decision of your life, but I found this really nice crib online?'"

Bertrand turned, fixing him with that look that always made him feel about five years old. "Is that what you want to say to her?"

"I don't know what I want to say. I don't know what I can say." He dropped his fork. "She could terminate and there's nothing I can do about it."

"This is true."

"I'd have to support her decision."

"Also true."

"But uncle…" His voice cracked slightly. "I saw the heartbeat."

Bertrand's expression softened. "I know, nephew. But Nazanin must make this choice herself. Without pressure."

"Even from me?"

"Especially from you." Bertrand sat across from him. "But showing her you're thinking of the future? This is not pressure. This is… hope."

Aurélien pulled out his phone again, found the crib he'd bookmarked during those sleepless hours in London. White with gold trim, converting into a toddler bed, probably cost more than some people's cars but…

"Send it," Bertrand said softly.

His thumb hovered over the link. Then:

Saw this last night. Made me think about possibilities.

He hit send before he could overthink it.

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Disappeared. Appeared again. His heart was somewhere in his throat when her reply finally came through:

It's beautiful.

Then: But expensive.

Money's not an issue, he typed back.

Aurel…

Just showing you I'm thinking about it. About everything. No pressure.

A longer pause this time. Then: I had an appointment with a counselor today.

His hands were shaking slightly as he replied: Yeah? How'd it go?

She helped me see some things clearly.

His stomach dropped. This was it. She was going to tell him she'd made her decision, that she was going to-

I'm scared of doing this alone.

Relief flooded through him. You're not alone. Never alone with this.

Promise?

On everything. On football. On my life.

She sent back a heart emoji, then: The crib really is beautiful.

"See?" Bertrand's voice made him jump – he'd almost forgotten his uncle was there. "Hope."

"She's still scared."

"Of course she is. You're both children yourselves."

"I'm twenty-four-"

"Children," Bertrand repeated firmly. "But children can grow. Children can learn. Children can become parents, if they choose."

If they choose. Those words again. Always coming back to choice.

His phone buzzed one more time: Send me more nursery stuff you like?

Something warm bloomed in his chest. "Uncle?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think we might be having a baby."

Bertrand's smile was gentle. "Perhaps. But first, you eat. Growing fathers need their strength."

Aurélien looked down at his plate, found himself actually hungry for the first time all day. Because maybe Naz hadn't made her final decision yet, but she was thinking about cribs and nurseries and possibilities.

And right now, possibility felt a lot like hope.

"You know," Bertrand said carefully, watching his nephew finally eat, "we still need to discuss your mother."

The fork clattered against the plate. Aurélien's head dropped to the cool marble countertop with a dull thud. "Fuck!"

"Language."

"Sorry, uncle, but… fuck." He pressed his forehead harder against the marble. "She already called me twice about those blog posts."

"Mm." Bertrand's hum was knowing. "She wasn't pleased."

That was an understatement. His mother had been livid about seeing her son's 'private affairs' splashed across gossip sites. She had very specific ideas about how a footballer should conduct himself – everything behind closed doors, everything properly managed.

"'Sowing your wild oats is one thing, Aurélien,'" he mimicked her tone, "'but discretion is everything.'"

"And now?"

"Now I have to tell her those wild oats actually sprouted." He lifted his head just enough to bang it against the counter again. "She's going to kill me."

"She won't kill you." Bertrand paused. "Maim you, perhaps."

"Not helping, uncle."

"Have you thought about how you'll tell her?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd do it?" He tried his most winning smile, the one that usually got him out of trouble.

"No." Bertrand's response was immediate. "This is your responsibility."

"But-"

"Your mother needs to hear this from you. Not from me, not from the blogs, not from some PR statement." Bertrand's voice softened. "She needs to see you taking responsibility."

Aurélien finally sat up, rubbing his forehead. "She's going to say I'm too young. That I'm ruining my career. That I should've been more careful-"

"All true things."

"Uncle."

"But," Bertrand continued, "she is also your mother. And that?" He pointed to Aurélien's phone, still open to his conversation with Naz about nursery furniture. "That will be her grandchild. If Nazanin chooses to keep it."

"If." That word again, hanging heavy between them.

"Your mother might surprise you. But she needs to hear it from you, Djani. Man to mother."

His phone lit up with another text from Naz – a different crib design, this one with a matching changing table. His heart did that weird flutter thing again.

"I'll call her later," he decided. "After I talk to Naz more. Figure out where we stand."

Bertrand nodded approvingly. "Good. Now finish your food. You have nursery furniture to shop for."

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I'm old, nephew. Let me have my future grand-uncle joy."

Aurélien shook his head, but he was smiling as he picked up his fork again. One hurdle at a time. First Naz, then his mother, then… everything else.

His phone buzzed again. A message from his mother this time: We need to talk about these blogs, Aurélien.

He stared at it for a long moment before typing back: Yes, we do. Tomorrow?

Her response was immediate: Finally. See you then. Love you.

"Fuck," he whispered again, but softly enough that Uncle Bertrand wouldn't hear.

Because how exactly do you tell your image-conscious mother that those blog posts were about to become the least of her worries?

.............tbd

#quainwritings #aurelien tchouameni

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