Copia wasn’t the most observant Papa in the Ministry—but when it came to you, he noticed everything.

At first, it was little things.

The way you started turning down coffee, which he knew you loved. How you flinched when he hugged you too tight. The quiet way your hand always settled over your stomach when you thought he wasn’t looking.

And tonight, when he caught you slipping away from dinner early, looking pale and nervous, it all clicked.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just followed.

He found you in the greenhouse—your usual hiding spot when the Ministry felt too loud. You stood by the herbs, pretending to examine a pot of basil, though your fingers were trembling.

“Tesorina,” he said gently, stepping into the doorway.

You jumped, then quickly masked it with a tight smile. And told him that you just needed some air

Copia nodded slowly, walking up beside you. “Is that all?”

Silence.

He reached out, brushing your hand away from your stomach.

You didn’t fight him. His eyes softened as they dropped to your belly, then back to your face.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened. And told him that you're scare and don't know how to tell him.

“Scare me?” he echoed, his voice cracking just slightly with disbelief. “Amore, you could tell me the sky was falling and I’d still hold your hand through it.”

You looked at him, really looked—and saw that he meant it. No panic, no anger. Just awe. And maybe... a little fear. But mostly love.

Copia blinked, then let out a nervous laugh. “I’m going to be a Pap—well. A different kind of Papa, huh?”