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•- The Morning After -•
The apartment was quiet in a way it rarely was.
Not peaceful exactly, but suspended, like the air itself was holding its breath.
Light filtered in through half-drawn curtains, pale gold spilling across the bed where Pai lay curled on his side. Tim was half behind him, one arm draped loosely around his waist, face buried into the curve of his shoulder in sleep.
For a moment, Pai did not move.
He simply stared at the wall.
The warmth of Tim’s body against his back felt familiar, grounding, safe in a way he had never quite had before Tim. Even with all his privilege, all his power, all his polished composure as the grandson of one of the richest men in the country and the current CEO of Empire Malls, Pai had spent much of his life feeling alone.
Lonely boardrooms.
Lonely family dinners.
Lonely expectations.
Tim had been the first person who never treated him like an asset, an heir, or a brand.
Just Pai.
Then the nausea hit.
Sharp, sudden, rolling like a tide he could not outrun.
Pai stiffened.
His breath caught.
His hand hovered over his stomach, trembling before resting there.
Last night replayed in his mind in flashes.
Pillows in the air.
Tim laughing.
His own giggles.
Being caught.
And then Tim’s stillness.
The way his voice had softened.
I think you’re carrying our pup.
Pai squeezed his eyes shut.
His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, he slid carefully out from under Tim’s arm and padded toward the bathroom.
He barely made it.
When the wave passed, he leaned over the sink, shaking, knuckles white against the counter.
The mirror reflected a version of himself he rarely saw.
No CEO composure.
No polished heir.
Just a scared omega in an oversized shirt that smelled faintly like his alpha.
His gaze drifted to the cabinet beneath the sink.
He opened it slowly.
At the back sat a slim box he had bought months ago at a late-night pharmacy stop. He had told himself it was just “in case,” but even then, his heart had been heavy with possibility.
His fingers hovered over it.
Then he took it.
˚✧ ˚✧ ˚✧ ˚
Tim woke to cold sheets.
For a second he thought Pai was still there, then his hand brushed empty space.
His eyes flew open.
Memory hit him all at once.
The scent.
The realization.
Pai in his arms.
Tim pushed himself up quickly, running a hand through his messy hair before climbing out of bed. His bare feet padded down the hall.
The bathroom light was on.
He knocked gently.
“Ducky?” he called softly.
Silence.
Then a shaky inhale.
“Don’t call me that,” Pai said, but his voice trembled.
Tim opened the door just enough to look in.
Pai stood by the sink, arms wrapped around himself like he was holding his own body together. His eyes were red, face pale, the pregnancy test lying face-down on the counter.
Tim stepped inside immediately.
“Hey,” he murmured, pulling Pai into his chest.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Pai collapsed into his arms, fingers clutching his shirt.
“I was scared to look,” he whispered.
Tim kissed his temple. “We don’t have to. We can throw it away and pretend this morning never happened.”
Pai shook his head.
“No. I need to know.”
Tim nodded slowly, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
They turned together toward the counter.
“On three?” Pai whispered.
Tim swallowed. “Okay.”
“One.”
Tim tightened his hold.
“Two.”
Pai’s breath hitched.
“Three.”
They looked.
Two lines.
Pai let out a broken sound and his knees gave out. Tim went down with him, sitting on the bathroom floor, cradling him tightly.
“Oh my god,” Pai whispered. “Oh my god, Tim.”
Tim buried his face in Pai’s hair, tears slipping free before he could stop them.
“Our pup,” he murmured hoarsely. “They’re really here.”
Pai cried and laughed at the same time, then lifted his head, stunned smile trembling across his face.
“We’re actually… having a baby.”
Tim let out a shaky laugh, pressing his forehead to his.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “We are.”
For a long moment they just sat there on the bathroom floor, wrapped around each other, reality settling slowly between them.
Then Pai frowned slightly.
“Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“What if I’m terrible at this?” he asked quietly.
“What if I’m too cold, too busy, too strict like my grandfather says I am?”
Tim pulled back just enough to look at him.
“Pai,” he said gently, “you run a billion-dollar company and you still call your cousin North every night to make sure he ate. You are not cold. You are just scared to show softness in rooms that would eat you alive.”
Pai swallowed hard.
“You see that?”
Tim brushed his thumb under Pai’s eye.
“I’ve always seen it.”
Pai leaned forward and buried his face in Tim’s chest again.
•- Clinic Appointment -•
Two days later, the clinic felt too bright, too quiet, too real.
Tim sat stiffly beside the exam table, knee bouncing so hard the chair rattled. His fingers were laced tightly with Pai’s.
Pai looked composed, but his foot tapped restlessly against the end of the trolley he’s currently laying down on.
“You’re going to break my hand,” Pai muttered.
“Sorry,” Tim whispered, but his grip barely loosened.
The doctor entered, calm and professional, asking gentle questions.
Pai answered carefully, almost like he was in a board meeting.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“A little nausea.”
“Some fatigue.”
Tim squeezed his hand each time Pai’s voice wavered.
Then came the gel.
Cold against Pai’s skin.
The machine hummed.
And then the heartbeat.
A fast, fluttering thud filled the room.
Tim froze completely.
Tears spilled down his face instantly.
Pai turned toward him, eyes wide. “Is that…?”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor said gently.
Tim squeezed Pai’s hand again, too hard this time.
“Ow,” Pai winced.
“Oh god, sorry, sorry,” Tim choked, loosening immediately, but he could not stop crying.
He stared at the screen like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Their pup.
Small.
Real.
Alive.
On the way out of the clinic, Tim looked dazed, like he was floating.
They passed a baby store.
Tim stopped abruptly.
“Tim,” Pai said warily. “No.”
Tim was already inside.
He came back five minutes later clutching tiny blue socks covered in cartoon ducks.
Pai stared.
“Tim.”
“I panicked,” Tim said quickly, cheeks bright pink. “They were cute.”
Pai sighed, but leaned into his side anyway.
“Of course you panicked,” he murmured. “You’re ridiculous.”
Tim smiled softly and kissed the top of his head.
˚✧ ˚✧ ˚✧ ˚
That night, Tim could not sleep.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, while Pai slept curled against him, one hand resting instinctively over his stomach.
Tim’s mind raced.
He thought about his work, designing luxury homes for strangers, yet suddenly all he cared about was building a safe world for his own family.
He thought about Pai, not just as his boyfriend or his mate, but as the future parent of his child. About how strong Pai was, running Empire Malls, standing in boardrooms full of ruthless adults who underestimated him because he was young, pretty, and an omega.
Tim admired him more than he had ever admitted out loud.
He also thought about marriage.
He had been thinking about it for nine months already.
He had bought a ring quietly, hidden it in a small velvet box tucked inside his boxer drawer where Pai would never look. He had tried to propose three times.
The first time, he had planned a romantic dinner on their balcony, candles, music, the whole thing. Pai had come home late, exhausted, and fallen asleep before dessert.
The second time, Tim had tried to propose during a weekend trip by the ocean, only for a sudden storm to trap them inside, Pai getting seasick and miserable.
The third time, Tim had prepared a quiet moment in their living room, but Pai’s cousin North had called in tears, needing help, and Pai had rushed out without hesitation.
Every time, Tim had chickened out.
Now, lying beside Pai, feeling the faint new warmth of their pup through his omega’s body, Tim knew one thing clearly.
He did not want to wait anymore.
˚✧ ˚✧ ˚✧ ˚
The next week was pure chaos.
Not dramatic chaos, not shouting or fighting chaos, but a low, constant hum of tension that followed Tim around like an anxious shadow.
It showed up in small things first.
The way he hovered behind Pai in the kitchen while he made tea, hands half raised like he was ready to catch him if he even swayed.
The way he quietly rearranged their pillows at night so Pai’s side of the bed was stacked higher and softer.
The way he slipped water bottles into Pai’s bag before work without saying anything, as if Pai might forget to drink unless Tim intervened.
It escalated quickly.
“Sit down,” Tim said one morning as Pai reached up for a mug on the top shelf.
Pai froze mid-stretch, turning to look at him.
“I can reach a mug, Tim.”
Tim crossed the room in two steps anyway, taking the cup down himself and placing it in Pai’s hands like he was handling something breakable.
“Drink water,” he added immediately after, already holding out a glass.
Pai stared at him.
He took a sip anyway.
At lunch, Tim hovered again.
“Did you eat?” he asked for the third time in ten minutes.
“I am chewing,” Pai replied flatly, fork halfway to his mouth.
Tim hovered behind him as he stood to put his plate in the sink.
“Don’t lift that,” Tim said quickly, reaching past him to take the plate.
“It weighs nothing,” Pai muttered.
Tim washed it anyway.
By afternoon, Pai noticed Tim’s eyes tracking his every move, watching for any sign of discomfort, dizziness, or distress.
And then came the tipping point.
Pai bent down to pick up a folder he had dropped near the coffee table.
Before he could even touch it, Tim lunged forward.
“Careful,” he said sharply, instinctive panic threading through his voice.
Pai straightened slowly, eyes narrowing.
“Tim.”
“Yes?” Tim replied immediately, already hovering close.
Pai placed his hands on his hips, cheeks flushed, patience snapping like a taut string.
“I am pregnant, not made of glass!” he burst out. “I’m twelve weeks along, not about to shatter if I breathe wrong. You’re acting like I can’t move without breaking!”
The words echoed slightly in the quiet apartment.
Tim froze in place.
His shoulders slumped instantly, his hands falling to his sides like he had just been scolded.
His face, which had been tight with worry all week, softened into something small and guilty.
“I’m just trying to take care of you,” he said quietly, eyes dropping to the floor.
The sharpness drained out of Pai immediately.
His posture softened, anger melting into something gentler, more complicated.
He let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing.
“I know,” he admitted, voice lower now. “I know you are. But you’re smothering me.”
Tim ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands like he did when he was overwhelmed.
He looked younger like this, less confident, less steady, more like a man who had just been handed something impossibly precious and was terrified of dropping it.
“I keep thinking about everything that could go wrong,” he confessed, voice rough. “About losing you. About losing them. About making one wrong move and messing everything up.”
He swallowed hard.
“I don’t know how to do this, Pai. I’ve built houses, whole damn buildings, but this… this feels bigger than anything I’ve ever done.”
Pai stepped closer slowly.
Up close, he could see the exhaustion under Tim’s eyes, the strain he had been carrying silently all week.
He lifted his hand and cupped Tim’s cheek, thumb brushing gently over his skin.
Tim leaned into the touch without thinking.
“You don’t have to know everything,” Pai said softly. “You don’t have to be perfect at this already. We’re only at twelve weeks. We’re still figuring it out too.”
His gaze softened further.
“You just have to be here with me.”
Tim’s throat tightened.
“I am here,” he whispered. “Always.”
And he meant it in a way that went far beyond this moment, beyond the pregnancy, beyond even their bond.
Pai leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and tender rather than urgent.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead briefly against Tim’s.
“I want your protection,” he murmured. “I like that you care. I like that you’re worried. But I don’t want your panic.”
Tim let out a weak, breathless laugh that sounded halfway between relief and embarrassment.
He wrapped his arms around Pai carefully, pulling him close against his chest, mindful of the small life between them.
“Deal,” he murmured into Pai’s hair.
Pai melted into his embrace, one hand resting instinctively over his still mostly flat stomach.
For a moment they just stood there, breathing together, the tension finally easing.
Then Pai spoke again, quieter.
“You know… I’ve spent my whole life being treated like something fragile by my grandfather, like a thing to be handled carefully so I wouldn’t crack under pressure.”
Tim shifted slightly, listening.
“But with you,” Pai continued, “I don’t feel like an object. I feel… loved. Even when you’re being ridiculous.”
Tim huffed softly against his hair.
“Ridiculous is my love language.”
Pai snorted, then sighed contentedly, relaxing fully in his arms.
Tim rested his chin gently on top of Pai’s head, hand sliding carefully to the small of his back.
Inside, his panic did not disappear completely.
But it softened, reshaped into something steadier, something more grounded.
He did not have to control everything.
He just had to stay.
And that, he realized, he could do.
Always.
•- The Proposal -•
That evening, after dinner, Tim took Pai’s hand.
His palm was warm, slightly damp, the way it always got when he was nervous even if he tried to hide it. His thumb brushed absently over Pai’s knuckles like he needed the contact to keep himself steady.
“Come to the bedroom with me,” he said softly.
His voice was gentle, but Pai heard the tremor beneath it immediately.
Pai raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering across his face in that sharp, perceptive way that had made him such a formidable character in the boardroom in the first place.
“Why?” he asked, half teasing, half wary.
Tim just smiled, a little crooked, a little too bright.
“Just come with me.”
Pai studied him for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly like he was scanning for danger, deception, or chaos. Then, with a small huff, he let Tim lead him down the hallway.
As they stepped into the bedroom, Pai noticed everything at once.
The lights were low, curtains half drawn, the bed neatly made in a way that was unusual for Tim.
The air felt softer, heavier, charged with something Pai could not quite name.
His heart began to beat faster.
Tim closed the door behind them with a quiet click that felt far more significant than it should have.
He turned back to Pai, expression suddenly serious in a way that made Pai’s breath catch.
Tim guided him gently to sit on the edge of the bed. Pai obeyed automatically, though his mind was racing now, every instinct telling him that something important was happening.
Tim knelt in front of him.
For a moment, Pai forgot how to breathe.
Seeing his alpha down on one knee like that sent a jolt straight through his chest, equal parts vulnerability and devotion.
Tim placed both hands carefully on Pai’s stomach, fingers warm, steady, reverent.
Pai swallowed hard.
He felt exposed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, but not in a frightening way. More like being seen completely, stripped of titles, power, wealth, and composure.
Just Pai.
Tim leaned closer, resting his forehead lightly against the soft plane of Pai’s belly. His voice dropped into something tender and playful all at once.
“Hey there, tiny baby ducky,” he murmured. “I know you’re very small and probably very busy growing, but I need your permission for something important.”
Pai sucked in a breath so sharply his chest ached.
His eyes widened, immediately filling with tears he did not even try to fight.
Inside, his thoughts spun in a dizzying, overwhelming rush.
He had spent so much of his life being treated like an object, an heir, a responsibility, a symbol of his grandfather’s empire. Even those who loved him had rarely spoken to him with this kind of softness, this kind of open, unguarded devotion.
And now here was Tim, kneeling before him, speaking not just to him, but to the tiny life inside him like it already mattered, like it was already part of their family.
Tim rested his forehead more firmly against Pai’s stomach, hands still gentle, still protective.
“I love your papa more than anything in the world,” he said quietly. “I want to take care of both of you forever. So if it’s okay with you, I’d like to marry him.”
Pai let out a sound he could not control, a choked laugh that immediately dissolved into tears.
His hand flew to his mouth as his shoulders began to shake.
In that moment, everything inside him felt too big, too full.
He thought about his grandfather’s stern face, the endless expectations, the pressure of leading an empire before he was even ready. He thought about how alone he had felt for so long, even in crowded rooms.
And then he thought about Tim, who had walked into his life with messy hair, warm laughter, and an unshakable belief that Pai deserved gentleness.
Tim slowly straightened, though he never took his eyes off Pai.
His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. Every second felt stretched thin, fragile, terrifying, and beautiful all at once.
He opened the bedside drawer with slightly trembling fingers.
Beneath folded clothes sat the small velvet box he had hidden there for nine months, moving it twice, checking it a hundred times, almost chickening out again and again.
He pulled it out and held it carefully in his palm.
Pai’s hands flew to his mouth when he saw it.
Tim opened the box.
Inside rested a simple, elegant gold band, engraved subtly with a delicate pattern that matched Pai’s refined, understated taste. It was not flashy or ostentatious like something Pai could have easily bought himself.
It was thoughtful.
It was personal.
It was Tim.
“Pai,” Tim said quietly, his voice shaking but steady, filled with everything he had been holding inside for months.
He reached out and took both of Pai’s hands in his own, grounding himself in their touch.
“I’ve wanted to ask you this for months, long before we knew about our pup. You are my home, my partner, my safe place, and now the parent of my child.”
Pai’s tears fell freely now, warm and unrestrained.
In his mind, he saw flashes of their life together.
Late nights on the couch.
Tim teasing him about being a duck.
Quiet mornings where Tim made him tea without asking.
Boardroom calls Tim had sat through silently, just to be near him.
He had never felt so completely loved in his entire life.
Tim squeezed his hands gently.
“Will you marry me? Be my husband and build our family with me?”
For a heartbeat, Pai could not speak.
His chest felt too tight, his throat too full.
Then the words burst out of him without hesitation.
“Yes,” he whispered immediately, voice trembling. “Yes, of course yes.”
Tim let out a breath he had clearly been holding for far too long, laughing through his own tears as he slid the ring carefully onto Pai’s finger.
The moment it settled into place, he pulled Pai into his arms, holding him tightly like he never wanted to let go.
Pai collapsed against him, crying and laughing at the same time, fingers gripping Tim’s shirt as if he might disappear.
“You kept that in your boxer drawer?” he murmured weakly against Tim’s chest.
Tim huffed out a watery laugh.
“I panicked,” he admitted. “It was the only place you’d never look.”
Pai snorted through his tears, shaking his head in disbelief.
Then he leaned up and kissed Tim deeply, pouring every ounce of love, gratitude, and joy he felt into it.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and tear-streaked, Pai slowly lowered his hand to rest over his stomach again.
He looked down for a moment, expression softening into something almost reverent.
Then he lifted his gaze back to Tim.
“Your papa said yes,” the alpha whispered softly.
Tim leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to Pai’s, hands resting protectively at his back as if he was already holding both of them at once.
In that quiet bedroom, mated, now engaged, and expecting their first pup, they stayed like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in silence.
Tim thought about all the homes he had designed in his life, every beautiful house, every perfect layout, every dream he had built for strangers.
None of it compared to this.
Pai was his home.
Their pup would be their future.
Pai, meanwhile, thought about every expectation placed on him, every responsibility, every lonely boardroom, every cold meeting.
And realized that here, in Tim’s arms, none of that mattered the way it once had.
Not perfect.
But completely theirs.