Chapter 16 - THE BOYFRIEND SHE ASKED THE UNIVERSE FOR
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Roman Rossi responded to pregnancy exactly the way Sadi expected.
Badly.
Not emotionally.
Logistically.
Within twenty-four hours, three doctors had called.
The penthouse stairs were inspected.
The kitchen food was replaced.
Roman attempted to ban coffee.
Sadi nearly divorced him.
“You cannot ban coffee.”
“Doctor said limit caffeine.”
“Limit.”
“Yes.”
“You heard eliminate.”
“I prefer safety margins.”
“You’re sleeping in your office.”
Roman stared.
“You’re pregnant.”
“I am aware.”
“You shouldn’t sleep alone.”
“You’re welcome to join me after apologizing to the coffee machine.”
Roman looked toward the espresso maker.
Then back at her.
“No.”
“Office.”
Pregnancy terrified him.
Sadi understood.
Roman pretended the fear involved vitamins, handrails, traffic routes, and ingredient labels.
But beneath it lay something older.
His mother.
Loss.
The idea that loving someone created a future the universe could steal.
One evening, around fourteen weeks, Sadi found Roman standing inside the unfinished nursery.
He had insisted construction begin immediately.
The room contained only a crib.
Roman stood beside it with one hand on the wooden rail.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
He sighed.
Sadi entered.
Her belly was barely visible.
Roman noticed it constantly anyway.
“I keep thinking about my father.”
“That seems unhealthy in a nursery.”
“He loved me.”
Sadi leaned against the wall.
“I know.”
“He loved my mother too.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow that didn’t stop him from destroying us.”
Sadi remained quiet.
Roman looked at the crib.
“What if loving someone isn’t enough to make you good for them?”
There was the real fear.
Not losing the baby.
Becoming Antonio Rossi.
Sadi walked toward him.
“It isn’t.”
Roman looked at her sharply.
“You could lie.”
“You married the wrong woman.”
She placed his hand against her stomach.
“Love by itself doesn’t make anyone a good husband.”
He swallowed.
“Or father.”
“No.”
Roman looked frightened.
Sadi smiled slightly.
“But showing up helps.”
His eyes met hers.
“Listening helps.”
She squeezed his hand.
“Admitting when you’re wrong helps.”
“I dislike that one.”
“I know.”
“Can we remove it?”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
Sadi continued.
“Your father taught you that protecting people meant deciding for them.”
Roman’s expression darkened.
“You spent the last two years unlearning it.”
“Not perfectly.”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked down at her stomach again.
“What if I fail?”
“You will.”
Roman stared.
Sadi laughed.
“So will I.”
“That was supposed to comfort me?”
“Yes.”
“It failed.”
She wrapped her arms around him.
“We’re going to make mistakes.”
Roman reluctantly held her.
“The goal isn’t perfection.”
“What is the goal?”
Sadi thought about it.
“Making sure our child never has to earn love by becoming what we expected.”
Roman became completely still.
Then he kissed her hair.
“I can do that.”
“I know.”
Six months later, labor began at 1:12 in the morning.
Sadi woke Roman by hitting him with a pillow.
“My water broke.”
Roman sat upright instantly.
“What?”
“My water broke.”
He stared.
“Now?”
“No, Roman. Next Thursday.”
He jumped out of bed.
Within forty-five seconds he was fully dressed.
Including shoes.
Sadi watched from the edge of the mattress.
“You’re wearing a suit.”
Roman looked down at himself.
Apparently he had not noticed.
“Change.”
“We need the hospital.”
“We are not entering maternity triage looking like you’re negotiating a hostage release.”
“This is more important.”
“Exactly my concern.”
He changed into jeans.
Forgot his wallet.
Returned for it.
Forgot the hospital bag.
Returned again.
Marco waited downstairs with the vehicle.
Roman stopped.
“I’m driving.”
Marco looked horrified.
“No.”
“This is my wife.”
“And you are currently useless.”
Sadi laughed through a contraction.
Roman glared.
Marco opened the rear door.
“You can fire me tomorrow.”
“I may.”
“Get in.”
At the hospital, Roman discovered that money could not hurry childbirth.
This deeply offended him.
After six hours, he asked the doctor whether “there were efficiency options.”
Sadi threw an ice chip at him.
After nine hours, he stopped speaking entirely.
At hour eleven, Sadi squeezed his hand hard enough to leave marks.
Roman did not complain.
At hour twelve, their daughter arrived screaming.
Everything stopped.
Sadi cried first.
Roman did not move.
The nurse placed the baby against Sadi’s chest.
Tiny.
Red-faced.
Furious.
Perfect.
Sadi laughed through tears.
“Roman.”
He stared.
“Come here.”
He approached carefully.
Like the baby might explode.
Sadi looked at him.
“Do you want to hold her?”
Fear crossed his face.
Real fear.
“I might hurt her.”
“You’ve held guns.”
“They’re sturdier.”
The nurse laughed.
Sadi shook her head.
“Sit.”
Roman sat.
The nurse placed their daughter in his arms.
Roman froze.
The baby made one small sound.
His entire face changed.
Sadi watched the most feared man she had ever known begin crying without embarrassment.
Roman looked down at his daughter.
“Hi.”
His voice cracked.
The baby opened dark eyes.
Roman laughed softly.
Sadi had never heard that sound from him.
“What are we calling her?” the nurse asked.
Roman looked at Sadi.
They had argued about names for months.
He liked Isabella.
Sadi liked Nora.
Neither had won.
Then Sadi looked toward Elena, waiting outside the glass.
Roman followed her gaze.
Sadi smiled.
“Elena.”
Roman’s eyes filled again.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He looked down at their daughter.
“Elena Grace Rossi.”
Sadi nodded.
“Perfect.”
A year later, Sadi stood inside the kitchen of the Rossi estate at two in the morning.
Some things changed.
Some things apparently refused.
The same marble island.
The same enormous sink.
The same dark windows.
Except now a baby monitor rested beside a bowl of fruit.
And Roman Rossi stood barefoot in sweatpants warming a bottle.
Sadi leaned against the counter.
“You know what’s strange?”
“Many things.”
“The first night you talked to me here.”
Roman looked toward her.
“You were crying.”
“I was having a difficult evening.”
“You were crying.”
“Fine.”
She smiled.
“I thought I needed a boyfriend.”
Roman tested the bottle against his wrist.
“You did.”
Sadi laughed.
“Arrogant.”
“You specified by tomorrow.”
“And somehow the universe sent me the most emotionally unavailable criminal in Illinois.”
“Former criminal.”
“Allegedly.”
Roman narrowed his eyes.
Sadi smiled.
Then became thoughtful.
“I really thought showing up with someone impressive would fix everything.”
Roman approached.
“And did it?”
“No.”
He looked offended.
She wrapped her arms around his waist.
“You didn’t fix me.”
Roman’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“I didn’t need fixing.”
“I know that too.”
She rested her cheek against his chest.
“You just annoyed me until I figured things out.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
The baby monitor crackled.
A tiny cry came through.
Roman immediately turned.
Sadi caught his hand.
“Wait.”
He looked back.
“You know you don’t have to run every time she makes a noise.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’re creating a monster.”
“She’s ten months old.”
“She already knows you’re weak.”
Roman frowned.
“I am not weak.”
From upstairs came another cry.
“Dada!”
Roman’s entire expression collapsed.
Sadi pointed.
“Weak.”
He abandoned her immediately and headed upstairs.
Sadi laughed so hard she had to hold the counter.
Roman stopped at the doorway.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“You’re staring.”
Sadi looked around the kitchen.
Years ago, she had stood in exactly the same place believing she occupied too much space in every room.
Too heavy.
Too loud.
Too disappointing.
Then a man in the shadows had heard one ridiculous wish.
She had asked for someone who could make her ex jealous.
Instead she found someone who challenged everything she believed about herself.
And somehow Roman found the same.
He had believed love was leverage.
She had believed love was proof of worth.
Both had been wrong.
Love was neither.
Love was not protection from pain.
It was not permission to control someone.
It was not a reward for becoming beautiful enough, quiet enough, useful enough, or strong enough.
Sometimes love was simply the person who stayed while you became brave enough to meet yourself honestly.
Roman shifted impatiently.
“Our daughter is calling me.”
“She said one word.”
“My name.”
“Technically a title.”
“Sadi.”
“Go.”
Roman started upstairs.
Then turned.
“What?”
She smiled.
“I love you.”
His expression softened instantly.
“I love you too.”
Roman disappeared upstairs.
Sadi remained in the kitchen for another moment.
She could hear him speaking through the monitor.
Low voice.
Gentle.
Completely different from the man who once believed tenderness was dangerous.
Sadi turned toward the dark window above the sink.
Her reflection looked back.
Same curves.
Same broad shoulders.
Same woman.
Not smaller.
Not transformed into someone else.
Just finally comfortable taking up the space that had always been hers.
From upstairs, Roman called:
“Sadi?”
“What?”
“She wants you.”
Sadi smiled.
“Coming.”
She turned off the kitchen light.
Years ago, she had whispered into darkness:
I need a boyfriend by tomorrow.
The universe had apparently misunderstood.
It had sent her a husband.
A daughter.
A career she loved.
A family rebuilt from uncomfortable truths.
And most importantly, a life in which she no longer needed anyone else’s approval to believe she belonged.
Sadi climbed the stairs.
Roman waited at the top holding Elena against his chest.
The baby reached toward her mother.
Sadi took her.
Roman wrapped one arm around them both.
Three people stood beneath the quiet hallway light.
No bodyguards.
No threats.
No performances.
Nothing fake.
Roman kissed Sadi’s forehead.
She leaned into him.
And somewhere beneath all the scars, old lies, ruined weddings, hidden letters, gunfire, and impossible second chances, the story that began with a desperate woman asking for a boyfriend finally became something neither of them had known how to ask for.
May you like
A home.
THE END
