ADRIAN

Two months ago, when I discovered that Brianna was pregnant, I immediately insisted that she move in with me. I wanted to ensure both she and our baby were well taken care of. She was reluctant at first, offering excuses about needing to stay with her mom and sister, but they reassured her that it was perfectly fine for her to be with me.

She even tried to distract me from my decision by claiming she had to work. I reminded her that I was her boss and that she wouldn’t need to work a single day if she lived with me. After much back and forth, she finally gave in. That was the happiest day of my life—the day she agreed to live with me.

Now, here we were, lying on my bed. Brianna’s head rested gently on my lap while I attempted to braid her hair. I wasn’t exactly skilled at braiding, but I was determined to keep trying.

“Babe?” she broke the silence, her voice soft and casual.

“Yes? What’s on your mind?” I responded, glancing down at her.

“I’m starving,” she murmured, and I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Starving? But you just ate a full plate of macaroni and cheese, along with some fruits and a whole bottle of apple juice, only an hour ago.” I remarked, confused by her sudden hunger.

That was a mistake on my part. I should’ve just kept quiet and listened, but I couldn’t help myself and had to speak up.

“I know, but I’m hungry again!” she cried out, frustration creeping into her voice. “Besides, it’s the baby who wants the food, not me.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off before I could.

“And don’t forget, you put the baby inside of me! You couldn’t even remember to use a condom, and you couldn’t pull out in time.” She said that last part in an almost hysterical tone.

“Well, technically, the egg that turned into the baby was already inside of you, I just helped fertilize it… but, uh, yeah, I should stop now,” I stammered, immediately regretting my attempt at logic when I saw the deadly glare she shot my way.

“Don’t try to teach me biology, Adrian. I went to school too—though I didn’t graduate—I know how fertilization works,” she hissed, and I couldn’t help but smile at her fiery response. I reached out to hug her, hoping to calm her down, but she resisted, pushing my hands away.

“I’m sorry, babe. I shouldn’t have questioned your cravings,” I said softly, making sure to look sincere. “You’re a strong woman, and a queen for carrying our baby. Please forgive me?” I added, pouting slightly to make my apology even more convincing.

Her expression softened at my words, and after a moment, she gave me a smile.

“You’re forgiven,” she said, and I grinned widely.

“Thanks for forgiving me, Your Majesty,” I teased, bowing dramatically, and she laughed.

“Cut it out,” she said between her laughter, shaking her head in mock exasperation, and I chuckled along with her.

“Now, tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll have the maids prepare it for you,” I offered, but she frowned at me.

“I don’t want the maids to cook. You’ll be the one cooking for me,” she ordered, and I stared at her in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” I asked, my voice betraying my shock.

“Yes, I’m serious,” she replied with a determined nod of her head, and I sighed deeply.

“Anything for you,” I muttered under my breath, even though inside I was panicking. Cooking wasn’t exactly my forte—I knew how to boil water, scramble eggs, and toast bread, but anything beyond that was a mystery. I prayed that she wouldn’t ask for something too complicated.

“So, have you decided what you want to eat yet?” I asked, trying to hide my anxiety. Ever since her pregnancy, Brianna had a tough time choosing what to eat, often spending what seemed like hours thinking about it, only to end up picking the most bizarre combinations imaginable.

“Yes! I’ve got it!” she said excitedly, her face lighting up, and I braced myself.

“The food I want is… macaroni and cheese with bacon strips,” she declared, and I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. That wasn’t so bad.

“Is that all?” I asked, double-checking.

“Nope,” she responded, popping the “p” for emphasis. “I want the macaroni to be plain, and the cheese should be melted separately. They should be in different bowls. The bacon should be fried in olive oil, and it needs to be crispy.”

I nodded quickly, making a mental note. “You got it. Anything else?”

“Yes…” she began, her voice laced with authority. “I want a smoothie too. You should make that first, before the food.”

“Alright. Any specific fruit combinations you want?” I asked, trying not to sound too tired, even though I was already feeling like a personal waiter.

“Apple, banana, hazelnut, ginger, mango, orange…” she trailed off, and I interrupted her.

“Hold on a second, I think you’re just listing random fruits now,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s what the baby wants!” she snapped back at me, glaring. I immediately nodded in agreement, even though I was starting to feel like I was being run ragged.

“Right… Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s it. You can go now,” she said dismissively, clearly already imagining the food in her mind.

I stood up from the bed, heading towards the door, but just as I was about to step out, she called me back.

“Do you think I’m bothering you?” she asked in a quiet, almost vulnerable tone. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned to face her instantly, a wave of concern washing over me.

I saw the tears glistening in her eyes, and before I could think, I rushed back to her side, pulling her into my arms.

“No, why would you think that?” I asked gently, my voice full of reassurance. She sniffled softly.

“Well, you just look stressed, and I’m realizing that I’m probably bothering you with all my cravings,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, and I cradled her like the precious woman she was.

“To answer your question, you’re not bothering me at all. I’m just doing what any partner in his right mind would do when his girlfriend is pregnant,” I replied, smoothing her hair gently. “And this pregnancy concerns both of us. You’re doing so much by carrying our child—it’s the least I can do to try to satisfy you in every way I can.”

“Aww, you’re too kind… and so sweet too,” she murmured, her voice muffled as her face buried itself into my chest, taking in my scent. That had become a comforting habit of hers ever since we started living together.

“Yeah, only for you though. The rest can… well, they can go and do something ridiculous,” I joked, and she giggled softly.

Just then, her expression changed, the sadness in her eyes quickly replaced by determination.

“What are you still doing here? Go make my food!” she ordered with a playful yet authoritative tone, and I scrambled off the bed, eager to comply before she could change her mind.

“You have seven minutes to make that smoothie! I’ll be waiting!” she shouted after me, and I rushed out the door and into the kitchen. If I took longer than seven minutes, I knew I’d be facing the wrath of her pregnancy hormones.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but reflect on how things had changed. Who would have thought that the woman I had fired months ago would end up being the mother of my child? If someone had told me this was how things would unfold, I would have laughed it off as nonsense. Yet, here I was—a CEO, reduced to running errands for my former assistant.

Fate truly had a funny way of playing out.