Dave had never been scared of anything before. Not the ruthless business world. Not the people who wanted him ruined. Not the tabloids constantly waiting for him to fail. But this? This terrified him. The doctor’s words from earlier still replayed inside his head like a broken recording. “A twin pregnancy at his age will need extra attention.” “Stress can become dangerous.” “You need to monitor him carefully.” Carefully.

As if Dave hadn’t already been doing that every second of every day. The penthouse was unusually quiet tonight, lit only by the dim golden lights near the kitchen. Dave sat alone on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, phone still clenched tightly in his large hand. The doctor’s message remained open on the screen for the hundredth time tonight. His jaw tightened.

Thirty wasn’t old. He knew that logically. The doctor never even said anything terrible would happen. But Dave’s mind kept dragging him toward the worst possibilities anyway.

Too many articles. Too many risks. Too many what ifs.

What if something happened during the pregnancy? What if the twins came too early? What if Nabil got hurt? The thought alone made his chest feel unbearably tight.

The sound of soft footsteps pulled him out of it. Dave immediately looked up. Nabil had just walked into the living room wearing one of Dave’s oversized shirts, one hand lazily resting against his stomach. And god, that only made it worse.