ADRIAN
It was six in the morning when my life turned upside down.
I had just stepped out of the shower, towel slung low on my hips, hair dripping, steam still clinging to my skin. I was rubbing water from my eyes when I heard it:
“Adrian…”
Not a normal “Adrian.”
Not a sleepy or playful one.
A tight, breathless, this‑is‑not-a-drill “Adrian.”
I froze.
Isabella stood in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, the other pressed to her belly. Her face was pale, her breathing uneven.
“I think… it’s time.”
My towel nearly fell off.
“Time?” I repeated, voice cracking like a teenager.
She nodded, wincing as another contraction hit. I dropped the towel. Then realized I was naked. Then panicked. Then grabbed the towel again.
“Okay—okay—okay—stay there—don’t move—actually no, move—wait—
