Episode 4

For Prince, the days were not hard. He had been working exclusively from home, using the pretext that he was suffering from a highly infectious and potentially deadly virus.

His best friend and his mother took care of picking up and delivering everything he requested.

And he was tired. Six months had passed, and the terrifying thought of the baby's imminent birth troubled him; he would have no one by his side. He stared out the window as the sun set. The days were, in a way, simple; it was the nights that caused him distress. The bed was large, too large for him alone, and despite his reluctance, there were still traces of the one he had shared it with. What angered him most, though, was that he missed them, felt alone, and lacked someone to embrace him and make him feel secure.

His mother's hugs and his friend's kind words were insufficient. He moved to get into bed, and sometimes he felt fear, panicking, thinking he was in danger, and he was terrified of moving from the bed.

These feelings filled him with anger and made him want to scream, yet he did nothing. He didn't want to feel this way because he knew that Maiston was living a much happier life. Magazines and television spoke of new ventures with France. He didn't want to feel happy about it, but he did anyway, and that just fueled his rage.

He shifted in bed and reached out to grab a jacket. Maiston hadn't taken all his things, and although he had flung them at him in anger, he felt relieved that some items had been left behind because they were the only things that brought him tranquility and a bit of peace during the long nights.

He placed his hands on his large belly, knowing he needed to think of a name, but nothing came to mind. He had never been good at naming his dogs or even the goldfish of his childhood.

He closed his eyes, trying to think of something beautiful. A special name because it was going to be a girl.

He thought about the stars, the moon, the sun, and he wanted something simple, short, and unforgettable. Then he remembered the constellations that Maiston would sometimes talk about. He knew that, despite being happy in that company and carrying out all those tasks, Maiston had once aspired to study astronomy. He enjoyed it when Maiston spoke about it because it made for lovely stories.

Tears filled his eyes. He hated these memories. He hated these beautiful memories because they destroyed him. His heart was small, and it ached every time he thought about that Alpha.

He brought the piece of clothing to his nose, feeling the nearly extinct scent of coffee that belonged to his pheromones. He liked that scent; it wasn't strong, but it was perfect for him. And he wished he had him there, clutching the garment to his chest, and he cried in silence. Because at night he broke down, crumbled, and sobbed, but by day he appeared decisive and capable of anything.

"Hi, hi, I'm here," someone said, opening the door. It was his best friend: Taylor, who walked in, smiling and cheerful as always.

Prince watched as Taylor came in with bags of food and smiled as he approached him. They talked happily because they cared for each other and had been friends for a long time. Taylor was a kind and funny guy, so they always enjoyed a good laugh. He was never angry or upset with anyone. He had never seen him argue or insult anyone, and he had never left him alone.

He was simple, hardworking, kind, amusing, and flirtatious when he liked someone. As a Beta, he attracted a lot of attention due to his visible attractiveness and modeling career. His black curly hair was popular with both guys and girls, and that was why he'd had many girlfriends and boyfriends. His brown eyes sparkled beautifully in the sunlight.

"Here, I have sweet rolls with manjar and jams, just how you like them."

Prince smiled, taking the bag and savoring the fragrant delicacies.

"You shouldn't eat too much, or you'll keep gaining weight. You're almost size eighty," Taylor joked as he sat down.

Under other circumstances, Prince might have responded, but he was too delighted with the taste of the treats. He sat on the couch, relishing each bite and making sounds that demonstrated his craving.

"Did you finish the patterns?" Taylor asked, watching him eat joyfully.

"Yeah, they're over there on the table."

Taylor walked over to inspect the sheets. He wasn't knowledgeable about drawings; modeling was his forte. He was one of the key models featured in Prince's apparel collections, but he did know that his friend always created amazing things.

He looked over them until he came to a sheet at the end. Taking it in his hands, he saw clothing, like on the other sheets, but from different perspectives. It was clearly infant clothing, tiny and dainty. He said nothing for a few seconds, never having seen such designs from Prince, who usually produced seductive lingerie and daring, exotic attire. What he was seeing now was tender, sweet, and beautiful.

He looked back at his friend who was nearly choked up with the abundance of food. He knew Prince was not having an easy time and would sometimes stay with him overnight just to hear him cry.

And he wanted to help. That's what they always did for each other because, more than friends, they loved each other like brothers. They had been through a lot together, including a time when they dated, but they realized how foolish that was and that they were projecting feelings where there were none. They decided to erase that episode from their lives because they were friends and that was all that mattered.

He approached Prince, watching him finish off everything he had bought. He was no longer surprised because it was typical for Prince to devour everything as soon as he received it.

"What's this?"

Prince glanced in his direction to see what Taylor was holding.

"Uh... it's baby clothes," he answered the obvious.

"I can see it's baby clothes, but what do you plan to do with them? Are you thinking of launching a new clothing line for babies or something?"

"I don't know," murmured the Omega. "I just realized I'll have to buy clothes for the baby. I always wear my own designs, mom does too, and you as well. But then I realized there's no baby line in my stores."

"Do you want to sell them?"

He nodded.

"Yes, I want the baby to wear nice clothes."

"Don't you think it'll be odd? Anyone who knows will immediately wonder why, and you don't want Maiston to find out," Taylor reminded him.

Prince processed his words, noting his friend's point.

He looked at him for a few seconds, his brown eyes wide but always kind, offering him the confidence to speak freely because he knew he had his trust and, above all, his affection.

He swallowed what was in his mouth and lowered his gaze for a moment.

"Well, I hadn't really thought about that."

"I'm not saying it's wrong, Prince, but people will start to talk when they see you suddenly have baby clothes when your usual designs are extravagant, daring, and exotic."

He let out a sigh, feeling his appetite vanish. So many things were going to happen. He could no longer remain concealed forever because speculation never stopped. Nor could he keep pretending to be afflicted by various viruses because everyone would assume he was on the verge of death. He found no way to silence all the press or to make the paparazzi leave the apartment he was staying in. He hadn't even visited the house registered in his name, nor had he taken the time to manage the hotel.

He wanted to do everything right so Maiston would see that he was as capable as ever and that Maiston's company didn't matter to him, but it wasn't going well because while he was pregnant and hidden, he saw on the news and everywhere that Maiston was enjoying life elsewhere with that new Omega.

And that was enough to make him sad.

Taylor didn't know what to do when he saw Prince cry. He didn't know if he had blurted out something stupid again or what.

"Prince, don't cry, what's wrong now? I promise not to mention again that you're fat or that you look like a pig or a whale."

Hearing that, Prince felt an even stronger urge to cry.

"Hey, don't cry, okay? Don't think about sad stuff, just keep enjoying the rolls you love. If you want more, I'll go buy it or tell Mrs. Sarah to come over. Should I call her?"

He passed a handkerchief gently over Prince's cheeks and listened to him sob. With a nod, Taylor stood up to dial his mom's number on his phone. She arrived quickly, always attentive to her son and ready to leave everything to see him at a moment's notice.

"I'm here, darling, what's going on?"

She hugged him and arranged his hair behind his ear, looking closely to understand what had made him cry.

"Taylor said I look like a pig."

"I didn't say that," Taylor defended himself, distancing himself just in time to avoid a hit with a handbag.

"I've told you not to say such things to him, Taylor."

"I'm sorry! What's in her bag? Rocks?" he asked while rubbing the shoulder where the bag had forcefully struck.

"You don't want to find out, young man. Come on, my prince, let's get you some rest. It's nearly four in the afternoon, and you've been working hard. Remember what the doctor said about resting because of your back pain. Is everything ready? I can take care of it so you don't have to worry about anything. Taylor! Please take this if you're leaving."

"Hey, you said you'd take it. Why offer and then delegate the task, Mrs. Sarah?"

He groaned when another hit from the bag landed and then silently took the stuff to leave it where it belonged.

"Baby clothes? That sounds wonderful!" he exclaimed with a smile.

"Taylor said I should think it over because it will lead to questions."

The mother wanted to tell her son that, as many times before, his friend was just talking nonsense, but that wasn't true; Taylor had a point.

"Well, he's not lying. You know how people are; they'll want to find out why. They're always trying to figure out what's happening with you, and hardly anyone believes the temporary virus story anymore. They're even talking about a mutated virus now."

Prince smiled at that nonsense and couldn't help but think of zombies.

"But, I want to do it. I want my baby to have many beautiful clothes just for her."

The mother smiled, knowing that although Prince had initially wanted to rid himself of the baby, now he was eagerly anticipating its arrival, albeit with a hint of fear about having to deal with the situation. She had everything prepared. For the birth, she would stay with her son for the first twelve months to assist him in every way.

"Have you thought of a name?"

She saw him nod with a smile.

"I want to name her Cassiopeia. I'll tell Taylor later."

"That's a beautiful name, and she'll surely be the prettiest baby of all, and I'll be the happiest grandmother in the world. Just a few months left, and you'll officially be a mother, and I'll be a grandmother. Don't worry; mom is here for you, and you're as strong as I am."

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