The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, soft and diffused, painting warm streaks of gold across the marble floor of the presidential suite. The city outside was only beginning to stir, distant and muted, as though even the world itself was easing into the day carefully.
Mira shifted beneath the heavy covers, her eyelids fluttering open reluctantly. For a moment, she lay still, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, listening to the quiet. It was an unfamiliar silence—too calm after the chaos of the wedding, too composed to feel accidental. And yet, it carried weight all the same, pressing gently against her chest as if to remind her that nothing about her life had truly returned to normal.
This wasn't a morning after a celebration.
It was a morning after a contract.
She moved slightly, fingers brushing against the smooth sheets, and then she realized something that grounded her far more than she expected.
She was awake after Cassian.
The thought settled strangely in her mind, solid and undeniable. Cassian Draymond—disciplined, precise, always three steps ahead—had woken before her, as he always did. Somehow, that small detail made everything feel more real.
She was a Draymond now.
Even if part of it was still performance.
Her gaze drifted across the room. Cassian sat at the edge of the couch, already dressed in crisp trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. The morning light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them just enough to make him look… human. Focused. Present.
He hadn't noticed her watching yet.
A breakfast tray rested on the table in front of him—meticulously arranged. Fresh fruit, oats prepared just right, green tea steaming faintly beside it. The spread screamed efficiency and health, every detail deliberate.
Mira blinked slowly, taking it in.
He was thinking of the baby.
Of her.
Of both of them—in a way she still didn't fully understand.
And then she realized her lips were curling into a smile she hadn't consciously formed, one that had nothing to do with reason and everything to do with memory. His kiss from the night before lingered unexpectedly, softer than she'd anticipated, warmer than she'd prepared herself for.
Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, resting there beneath the sheet—a protective gesture that felt entirely her own.
Whatever happens, I'll protect you, she whispered silently, echoing a promise she had made long before contracts and headlines had entered the picture.
The thought tightened her chest with a strange blend of fear and warmth. Cassian's presence—steady, controlled, unshakable—had become an anchor she hadn't realized she was leaning on.
"Breakfast is ready," Cassian said suddenly, his voice low, carrying just a hint of teasing.
She startled slightly. "I can see that," Mira replied, her voice still thick with sleep. "Are you sure it's necessary? Or are you secretly trying to make me eat green things on my first official day as a Draymond?"
His lips curved. "I'm very persuasive when necessary. And it's mandatory—for you and the baby. I won't allow you to ruin your morning with cake or… croissants."
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she pushed herself up from the bed, suddenly aware of the silk sheets, the quiet luxury, and how unfamiliar it all still felt. She crossed the room, noticing with mild surprise that he'd included her favorite fruit.
"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "I'll let you win this one. But only because you insist like a tyrant."
"I take my tyranny seriously," he replied lightly. "Especially when it concerns the people I care about. Breakfast will make you strong, smart, and—" his gaze flicked to her "—mildly more obedient."
She laughed, the sound soft and genuine enough to surprise her. "Mildly?"
"You heard me," he said, eyes glinting. "It's all part of the Draymond charm program."
The weight in her chest eased, just a little.
The morning remained quiet, comfortable in its own strange way, yet threaded with unspoken truths—the marriage, the baby, the fragile bond taking shape between obligation and choice. She ate slowly, stealing glances at him, noticing how attentively he watched her, how he seemed to register even the smallest shifts in her expression.
Once breakfast was done, she excused herself for a shower. The warm water washed over her, grounding her, reminding her that beneath expectations and surnames, she still existed as herself.
When she emerged dressed in a simple silk dress suitable for the hospital visit, nerves tugged at her chest again.
Cassian waited outside the bathroom, hands in his pockets, studying her with quiet intensity.
"You look ready," he said softly. "Do you feel ready?"
"I… am," she replied, brushing her hand across her stomach unconsciously. "I mean, I'm a Draymond now—even if part of it is still fake. But this…" Her voice wavered. "This doesn't change the fact that I'm carrying your baby."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And I won't let anything happen to you. Or to our child."
Emotion surged unexpectedly, leaving her breathless. "Good," she murmured. "Because I think I'd punch you if you didn't."
He laughed, deep and genuine. "You wouldn't. But I admire the threat."
The city was quiet as they drove, sunlight creeping between buildings. The car smelled faintly of leather and cedar, Cassian's cologne subtle but unmistakable. His hand brushed hers once—brief, almost accidental—but neither ignored it.
The hospital loomed ahead, familiar and sterile. Inside, the scent of antiseptic and coffee tightened Mira's nerves. Cassian guided her with gentle precision, his hand hovering near her elbow, never pressing, always present.
The doctor's office was softly lit, calm.
"Congratulations," Dr. Albright said warmly. "Early tests confirm pregnancy—about two weeks along. Everything looks healthy."
"Two weeks," Mira whispered, hand drifting to her stomach.
"At this stage," the doctor continued, "it's too early to determine twins. Sometimes there are hints, but nothing definitive yet."
Cassian's gaze flicked to Mira. "Twins?" he asked lightly.
"Possibly," the doctor said. "We'll know more soon."
Relief washed through Mira. Cassian brushed his thumb across her hand. "See? We'll handle it."
As they left, sunlight wrapped around them again.
Her phone buzzed.
We'd like to schedule a follow-up. Something interesting appeared on the chart. Please call ASAP.
Mira looked at Cassian, unease flickering.
"Interesting?" he echoed.
She nodded slowly. "Do you want to come with me?"
"Always," he said firmly.
And as the car pulled back into traffic, they carried something far heavier than contracts or power.
They carried the future.