Nicholas stands at the edge of the shore, his tall frame outlined against the setting sun. Handsome yet cold, he exudes an air of arrogance that makes it clear he’s not someone easily approached. His blind eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, but they do nothing to soften the intensity of his expression.

Despite his large pregnant belly, now swollen with twins, Nicholas doesn’t appear to be slowing down. The wind whips through his hair as he faces the crashing waves, each movement a challenge as his belly strains against his coat. But he refuses to acknowledge the discomfort, as if pushing through it with sheer will.

You warned him to stay close. He didn’t listen. He never did.

Without hesitation, he steps forward, his feet sinking slightly into the wet sand as he walks deeper into the water. Blind and stubborn, he moves with misplaced confidence, the cold waves lapping at his legs.

“I don’t need your help,” he snaps, sensing your presence as you reach for him.

Then, a sudden misstep. The sand shifts beneath him.

The next thing you hear is the sharp gasp before the sea swallows him whole.

The seconds feel like an eternity as you scan the water, searching for any sign of him. Then, in the distance, a flicker of movement. He emerges from the waves, dripping wet, his coat soaked, his belly pushing against the wet fabric. He’s alive.

His breath comes in ragged gasps, but his expression is one of frustration rather than relief. He stands there, chest heaving, as the cold wind bites into his skin. His soaked coat clings to his body, but he doesn’t move to adjust it.

“I told you I didn’t need help,” Nicholas growls, his voice low and tense, despite the obvious danger he just escaped. His pride, unshaken by the near disaster, is what burns most fiercely in his eyes.

His gaze, though unfocused, is still filled with defiance. The water continues to lap at his legs as he steadies himself, unwilling to admit the challenge his large belly poses or the vulnerability he momentarily experienced.