Oliver's heart pounded against his ribs as he waited in the St. Mary's Hospital waiting room.

The immaculate walls seemed to close in around him, intensifying the apprehension that snaked through his veins. Only the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall broke the silence, each second marking the approach of the moment that would change his life forever.

If anyone had told him, even a million years ago, that he would be here waiting for his wife to give birth to his daughter, he would have laughed at the improbability of the idea. After all, he could never have imagined such a twist of fate. Yet there he was, sunk into the uncomfortable chair, nerves frayed, mind wandering to dark scenarios where everything went terribly wrong.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remember that Sofia was perfectly healthy, as was little Lily. This thought brought a moment of relief, temporarily calming the apprehension that tormented him.

As he waited, his mind traveled back in time, transporting him to seven months earlier. It was as if he could relive every detail of that fateful day when Lily's existence was revealed, turning his world upside down.

He remembered vividly Sofia, with her peculiarly irritable mood, going to the clinic for routine exams. Little did they know that those results would bring news that would forever change the course of their lives. When the doctor announced the hormonal changes consistent with pregnancy, the shock was overwhelming.

"You're young and blessed. Life has found a way," the doctor said with a serene smile. Sofia laughed, genuinely amused, while Oliver struggled to muster a smile, his mind still trying to process the new reality.

In the days that followed, he found himself in a state of denial.

Even with all the evidence before him — ultrasounds, exams, tests — fatherhood seemed distant and unreal. They say mothers embrace the role the moment they discover it, but for Oliver, a first-time father, the process would be more gradual and challenging.

The months passed in a blur, each day bringing new challenges and responsibilities. Amid unavoidable commitments — Sofia's pregnancy, preparatory meetings for the government, and, above all, the declining health of the Queen — Oliver barely had time to breathe. However, over time, he and Sofia grew closer, united by this unexpected but undeniably powerful bond.

The responsibility of fatherhood awakened in Oliver a fierce determination to ensure Sofia and his daughter's happiness.

As he adjusted to the new reality, Oliver couldn't help his thoughts from drifting to Ian. Part of him was still stuck in that moment in Spain, when they said their final goodbyes, with declarations of love that dissipated like sand in the wind.

News of Ian's life reached Oliver in fragments brought by Laura during their conversations: Ian had moved to Singapore, where his competence made him a rising star. The city's power circles idolized him, and rumors suggested he was in a relationship with the daughter of a prominent parliamentarian.

Laura mentioned that they talked on Facetime every day, an intimacy Oliver no longer shared with Ian.

Oliver never asked Laura how Ian reacted to the news of his fatherhood. The fear of the answer paralyzed him. He was afraid that knowing Ian was aware of his new reality could trigger a wave of emotions he struggled to keep under control.

Lost in thought, a familiar voice brought Oliver back to the present. Looking up, he saw Laura approaching, a cup of tea in her outstretched hands.

"I thought you might need this," she said softly.

"Laura, you're an angel," Oliver sighed, gratitude evident in his trembling voice.

The warmth of the cup against his palms was comforting, almost soothing.

Almost.

Laura settled into the chair next to him, her gentle smile radiating understanding. "How are things?"

"Still waiting," Oliver replied with a tense laugh, taking a sip of the chamomile tea.

"It's going to be fine," Laura assured him, and Oliver nodded, though the fear still lingered as an unwanted companion in the endless wait.

After a long silence, Oliver gathered the courage to voice the question that haunted him.

"Did he know?" His voice came out almost as a timid whisper, as if saying Ian's name aloud might summon ghosts from the past.

"Well, you're not exactly a private person," Laura replied gently. "The whole world knew."

Oliver sighed, frustrated by the reality of his public life. "How did he react?"

"I know he was sad, in a way," Laura revealed, choosing her words carefully. "But he said he was happy for you. He's sure you'll be a great dad."

A disbelieving laugh escaped Oliver's lips. It was ironic that their relationship had come to this point, where they needed an intermediary to exchange messages, unable to communicate directly.

"Will I be, Laura?" His insecurity spilled over, and Laura smiled tenderly before comforting him.

"Of course you will, Oliver," she affirmed, squeezing his hands firmly between hers. "You're the kindest person I know. Your daughter will see a hero in you."

A faint smile curved Oliver's lips, though his soft laugh was barely audible.

"Can I be honest with you?" he ventured, and Laura looked at him attentively.

"Always," she replied, turning to face him fully, leaning closer, her eyes fixed on his.

"I never imagined I'd live this," he confessed in a whisper, ensuring only she could hear him. "And even if I had considered significant moments like this in my life, I never thought it wouldn't be with him by my side."

Laura's eyebrows furrowed as she let out a soft sigh, the sweetness in her voice contrasting with the inherent sadness in her words — like the gentle rustle of leaves against a calm ocean, compared to the violent crash of waves against the shore.

"Oh, Oliver..." she murmured, her tone laden with empathy.

"I know, you don't need to..." Oliver interrupted her, desperate to avoid delving into the subject. "I just needed to vent," his words hanging in the air like a dense, ominous cloud.

Inevitably, Oliver felt fragmented, his essence divided between the present and the past, preventing him from fully embracing that precious moment. The persistent feeling of never having been entirely present for Sofia haunted him, and now a new fear emerged in his chest: the fear of not being able to offer Lily the fullness of his presence.

Having grown up in a family marked by emotional absences, Oliver felt compelled to build a completely different family dynamic — a commitment he renewed with each new day.

"How's the situation out there?" he asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Laura rolled her eyes, her expression conveying palpable irritation. "A real circus. Flashes going off everywhere."

A sudden wave of determination swept over Oliver, mingling with another episode of characteristic impulsiveness.

"I need to do something," he announced, his voice firm despite the uncertainty permeating his thoughts. "How far can I go without being noticed?"

Concern etched across Laura's face.

"You know you can't go very far," she replied, the seriousness of her words making Oliver apprehensive. "Security is tight everywhere, especially with the press camped out there, hungry for any scrap of information."

Oliver nodded, absorbing the gravity of the situation, aware of the risks involved. "I know."

Laura seemed to ponder for a moment, her eyes roaming the space as she searched for a solution.

"Maybe you could take a walk in the back gardens," she suggested, a spark of hope in her voice. "They tend to be less crowded. Maybe you can breathe without being suffocated by unwanted attention."

Laura's suggestion was like a beacon in the storm of Oliver's thoughts. With a nod, he expressed his gratitude for her insight.

"I'll be back soon."

Laura returned his nod with an encouraging smile. "I'll be here if you need me."

Oliver ran through the hospital corridors, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor, driven by an urgency that burned in his veins. The garden was his destination, a sanctuary where he could untangle his thoughts, where he could find clarity amid the chaos.

But above all, it was a place where he could connect with the one person capable of calming the storm within him.

The cell phone weighed like lead in Oliver's hands as he stared at the blank screen. Typing Ian's number was easy, just a few taps. But the implications of that simple gesture threatened to suffocate him. A tangle of emotions tightened in his chest — fear, longing, doubt. Was he about to cross a line he had drawn to protect himself? Could his fragile heart bear it once again?

Hesitant fingers typed: "Can I talk to you?" Each letter seemed to scream his vulnerability.

The blinking cursor challenged him as he pondered whether to send it or not.

What if Ian was in someone else's arms? Someone whose life wasn't so complicated, someone light and carefree. What if the spark between them had extinguished? If Ian was cold, distant, as if their love had been only a mirage in the desert?

Before he could get lost deeper in the labyrinth of his own fears, the cell phone vibrated, almost slipping from his trembling fingers. The three letters glowed on the screen — a portal to the past, an invitation to relive moments buried in his soul. Oliver hesitated, his finger hovering over the answer, his heart pounding.

"Hi," his voice wavered as he greeted, sounding like a mere timid whisper. It was strange, like talking to the ghost of a lost love.

"Laura said you're a bundle of nerves," Ian's velvety voice floated through the line, wrapping around him in an ethereal embrace.

Oliver closed his eyes, absorbing every nuance of that familiar sound, so comforting yet painful. Ian made a joke to mask his nervousness, and a shy smile spread across Oliver's face, a spark of light in the darkness.

"Did she ask you to call?" he ventured, hesitant hope hanging in the air, even though he already knew the answer.

"Actually, she practically forced me," Ian replied in his usual playful tone, eliciting a low laugh from Oliver that turned into a deep sigh from his soul. After a pause, Ian asked softly, "It's been a long time. How are you, Oliver?"

"I'm... holding on," Oliver confessed with a bitter laugh, throwing himself onto the stone bench, the phone pressed against his ear like his only anchor. "Actually, no, Ian, I'm not doing well."

It was the first time in a long while that Oliver allowed himself to speak Ian's name aloud, and merely mentioning it brought a wave of memories, precious moments when their love was the driving force in their lives.

"Oliver, it's completely normal to feel this way," Ian assured, his voice conveying an understanding that went beyond his own experience. "I mean, I believe it is. This is a monumental step for you," he continued, his voice like a balm to Oliver's tormented mind. Then, a sudden change in Ian's tone caught Oliver by surprise, sounding almost as if he had a brilliant idea: "You know, when we were kids, whenever we went through anxious moments, my mom would make us verbalize our thoughts in a somewhat toxic way, but I assure you it works. Want to try?"

It was completely unexpected for Ian to be the one trying to reassure Oliver in such an inappropriate moment for both to interact, but deep down, he knew Ian was the only person capable of offering him any comfort.

"Sure," Oliver replied, resigned.

"Alright," Ian returned, pausing before instructing, "What would be the worst thing that could happen right now?"

"Seriously? You want to play worst-case scenario? You saw this on 'This is Us,' didn't you?" Oliver teased, and Ian laughed, that crystalline sound that came from the depths of Ian's throat and had the power to light up the entire world.

"I swear they stole it from Emma," Ian defended, and it was impossible to contain the smile that spread across Oliver's face. "Shut up," Ian feigned impatience, and Oliver could perfectly visualize Ian's eyes rolling while a wide smile, complete with dimples, danced on his lips. "Want to try or not?"

"I'm bringing a child into the world just to be a guardian of the lineage, whose life will be destroyed by the pressures of the Advisors and the Crown," Oliver fired back, and Ian listened attentively, only his steady breathing crossing the line. "I'll be a terrible father, unable to provide the love and protection my daughter deserves because I'm continuously consumed by my own demons. I'll be distant, harsh, and unavailable, unable to connect with her because I'm never truly present. I'm always lost in fantasies where she and Sofia, and even royalty, don't exist — just you and me."

"Oliver—" Ian tried to intervene, but he had already gone too far to turn back.

Oliver continued, ignoring Ian's warning. "I'm having a daughter who will never know the comfort of a real family, raised to be a pawn in the games of the powerful, with no escape from the dark and lonely fate that awaits her. I'll be as trapped as I am now, a prisoner of my own failures and inadequacies, unable to offer her the happiness she deserves."

That outburst seemed to release some of the pressure within Oliver, but only temporarily. As soon as he finished, an overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him, suffocating him with its relentlessness.

They were terrible things to say out loud.

Ian gave Oliver some time to catch his breath and, with a gentle call, his voice returned to Oliver's ear.

"Hey," Ian said, light as an embrace, and Oliver remained silent as he asked: "You done?"

"I hope you have a point, because I feel like the worst person right now," Oliver murmured, his voice laden with self-deprecation and despair. The humor in Ian's laugh was almost imperceptible over the phone.

"You're not your grandmother," Ian said, surprising Oliver. "You're completely different from her in every way," Ian emphasized, and Oliver let out another loud sigh. "Talking about what you're afraid of means knowing exactly what you don't want to happen. It might seem obvious, but we often replicate our fears because we don't have the courage to face them like you just did," Ian paused, and then he had Oliver's full attention. "Besides, your daughter isn't even born yet and you're already worried about her unhappiness. Oliver, I'm sure you won't raise her to be a bargaining chip. I know you; you'll be a fierce protector for her," came Ian's resigned sigh, and with a fatal blow, he concluded, "We both know this world can be a nightmare, but you're good. You know that, don't you?"

"I wish you were here," Oliver revealed, once immersed in the territory of confessions, baring himself completely in that deserted garden.

"I know," Ian responded, but his voice didn't denote sadness; instead, Oliver could feel his passion and conviction. "You don't need to worry, everything will be alright," he assured, and Oliver almost doubted, but without knowing, Ian interrupted him: "Now, since we're here, want to hear something truly abominable?"

"Honestly? I think we've gone far enough," Oliver replied sincerely, but his smile widened involuntarily.

"You're so close to taking control of your own life, Oliver," Ian ignored him and delivered his truth. "Your grandmother won't last much longer, and you don't need to raise your daughter in her image. I know you'll only be free when that happens."

"Ian!" Oliver scolded him, smiling inappropriately. "That was..." Somehow, being completely honest, it made him feel more relaxed.

"Totally true?" Ian punctuated, his voice full of laughter causing shivers at Oliver's fingertips. "You know better than I do that you deserve this freedom, Oliver. I know you're just a few hours away from becoming a completely different person, and it's only a little longer until you can be yourself. Take control of your own choices, get whatever the hell you want."

"Anything?" Returning that question was a reflex, not as a flirtation, but as a spark of hope.

"Anything," Ian affirmed with a firmness in his voice that promised more than words.

A comfortable silence enveloped the space, like a soft blanket on a cold night. Unlike previous silences, which bristled with thorns and discomfort, this one was serene, almost therapeutic. It was just the two of them there, immersed in that paradoxical calm, and against all expectations, Oliver found a trace of peace.

"Thank you," he allowed himself to say, the simplicity of the word carrying an ocean of gratitude.

"Anytime," Ian responded, and Oliver could sense a slight hesitation in Ian's voice as he ventured, "You haven't told me her name yet."

"Lily," Oliver revealed, feeling his face light up with a genuine smile at the thought of her. "Her name is Lily."

Before Ian could comment, a spectacle in itself captured Oliver's attention: Alice's coppery hair danced in the wind, mesmerizing his eyes until she closed the distance, positioning herself in front of him with a smile that seemed to rival the sun itself. With the energy of someone who had just run a marathon, she took his hands with vibrant enthusiasm and declared:

"She's here."

A new kind of anxiety took hold of Oliver, replacing the suffocating nervousness with a gentle anticipation and simultaneous relief.

Still holding the phone, he turned to Ian and murmured, "I... I need to go."

"Tell her I said hi," Ian replied with a smile in his voice, and with that, they said their goodbyes, no more words needed.

◃───────────▹

Alice and Oliver moved through the corridors, propelled by a quiet joy, until they emerged again in the waiting room, where a nurse was sharing soft laughs with Laura. Laura's gaze met Oliver's, and a familiar gleam—mirroring what he had seen so many times on her brother's face—warmed the room, weaving comfort around his heart. A known sweetness, like a hug that transcends distance.

"Ready?" Laura whispered intimately, her hand resting on Oliver's arm, an anchor of support and kindness that cloaked him with courage.

"Yes," he replied with a sincerity that surprised himself, Alice, and Laura.

"Go ahead," Alice encouraged, giving him a gentle nudge in the right direction as the nurse led the way.

Entering the room, Sofia was the epitome of grace and exhaustion, embodying the timeless narrative of princesses whose beauty remains unshaken even after childbirth.

Her blonde hair was tied in a casual bun, though damp and stubborn strands insisted on framing her flushed face. In her arms, nestled in a soft pink blanket, was a treasure: she offered a smile that lit up the room when her eyes met Oliver's.

"Hi," he greeted her in a whisper, so full of reverence that he dared not disturb her peace.

"Hi," she murmured, rearranging herself with delicate restlessness on the softness of the hospital bed as he approached, driven by an invisible force.

Sofia gently inclined the small bundle of life nestled towards him. With a subtle nod toward the covered little face, she silently invited him to a first meeting he knew he would forever cherish in his memory.

"She's gorgeous," Oliver sighed, the air escaping his lungs in a whisper of pure admiration.

There, before his eyes, was a tiny, absolutely perfect being, bearing newly formed features that hinted at his own image, despite the characteristic swelling of newborns.

"She has your lips," Sofia remarked, amusement dancing beneath the veil of fatigue in her voice. A soft laugh escaped, illuminating the room with a warmth that only genuine happiness could ignite: "Lucky girl."

Feeling a sweet shyness wash over him, Oliver nodded. With hesitation laden with emotion, his fingers reached for the blanket swaddling the small form, touching it with the caution of someone handling the most delicate crystal.

"Can I?" His voice was almost a whisper, trembling with anticipation.

Sofia rolled her eyes in a playful expression of affection, a broader smile blooming on her face.

"Studies show that babies aren't made of porcelain," she said, with a lightness that triggered a deep, vibrant laugh from Oliver, filled with emotions he wasn't prepared to acknowledge. "Of course you can hold her."

"I see your sense of humor survived everything," he teased gently, savoring the ease of their exchange, as she laughed again, shifting in the bed to make space for him beside her.

With an unexpected solemnity, Sofia handed Lily to Oliver's arms with a meticulousness that made every movement seem like a sacred ritual.

And then, he was overwhelmed by a colossal and unprecedented feeling, as if a new universe was opening up inside him. The sensation was absolutely new, different from any experience he had ever had, even in the most sublime moments.

There, nestled in his arms, was a creature so delicate and fragile, immersed in a peaceful and serene sleep, unaware of the complexities of the world around. Her soft skin radiated a comforting warmth, and her tiny body fit perfectly against his, as if they were made for each other.

Gazing at that angelic face, Oliver marveled at the purity radiating from each feature. Lily was a completely new being, still untouched by the pains and scars of life. Her closed eyes held the promise of a future filled with possibilities, and her rosy lips seemed to hint at a secret smile, as if she knew something we mere mortals did not yet understand.

In that moment, an overwhelming love took hold of him, so intense and sweeping that it defied any rational explanation. Even having known Lily for only a minute, he already loved her with a depth that transcended words and concepts. It was an unconditional, pure, and true love that sprang from the depths of his being and expanded to fill all the empty spaces within him.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that no expert would be able to decipher the magnitude of this feeling. It was something beyond science and logic, an ancestral connection that united parents and children since the beginning of time. In that instant, he felt part of something greater, of an invisible web that intertwined all forms of life in a common purpose.

"I'm strangely happy," Sofia confessed, her soft voice bringing Oliver back to reality. Her blue eyes shone with a mix of joy and disbelief, her words weaving through the air a truth that resonated within him. "Is this crazy?"

"Completely," he replied, finally tearing his gaze from Lily to meet Sofia's. A knowing smile formed on his lips, and he could see in her the same enchantment that was consuming him. "The highest level of imaginable craziness."

He hadn't planned to feel so at ease in that moment, but without thinking, he leaned his face towards hers, and she welcomed him with the same serene smile.

When their lips met, it was with a naturalness that bordered on poetic, a softness that conveyed more than he could express at that moment. It was a touch far from being sexual, something that reflected his deep gratitude, his profound sense of protection, and his sincere desire to repay her with more than just words.

He wanted her to understand that, despite the imperfections that marked their lives, they needed to stay together from then on and make things work as best as they could.