Marin sighed theatrically, then softened a fraction. "Rafael, listen. You’re fine. The baby is fine." His gaze sharpened again. "But you need to stop treating anxiety like sothing you can outwork."
Rafael’s throat tightened. "I’m not..."
"You are," Marin said. "And if you keep doing it, the tension will beco real contractions. Not today. Not tomorrow. But eventually."
Rafael went still.
Marin’s tone remained dry, but there was steel under it. "The Empire will survive if you take naps. Your husband will survive if he has to eat lunch without you once. The baby will not benefit from you grinding yourself into dust."
The word "husband" still hit Rafael strangely sotis - dostic and dangerous in the sa breath.
Rafael swallowed, voice smaller than he liked. "Gregoris is... protective."
Marin snorted. "A Shadow commander? Protective? Shocking."
Rafael’s lips twitched despite himself.
Marin finished the scan, wiped the gel with brisk efficiency, and pulled the sheet back over Rafael like he was covering a patient and not a state secret. "All right," he said. "I’ll write the report you’ll pretend you won’t obsess over. And then I’ll tell you the only thing you actually need to hear."
Rafael sat up slowly. "Which is."
Marin looked him in the eye. "You and the baby are doing well," he said simply. "So stop bracing like happiness is a trap."
Rafael’s throat tightened.
He looked away, jaw set, because he refused to be emotional in a dical office.
Marin’s voice returned to dry amusent. "Also, eat dessert. Your child has excellent priorities."
Rafael let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
Marin finished the scan with brisk, practiced movents, wiped the gel like it had personally offended him, and covered Rafael again with the sheet in a gesture that was almost gentle.
Then he set the tablet on the counter and turned back, one brow already lifted like he was about to start a fight purely for entertainnt.
"You want to know now," Marin said, "or do you want to be dramatic about it and wait until birth?"
Rafael blinked. "Know what?"
Marin stared at him for a long second, expression flat with disbelief. "The baby’s genders, Your Grace."
Rafael’s mouth parted, then closed again. He had been anxious about a hundred things - ether signatures, uterine tension, whether his body would betray him in so humiliating way in front of a physician who enjoyed sarcasm - but sohow this had never even entered his list.
He swallowed. "I... hadn’t thought about it."
Marin’s mouth twitched. "Naturally. You’ve been busy treating pregnancy like a hostile takeover."
Rafael shot him a glare that lacked conviction. "Is that... sothing I can know already?"
"Yes," Marin said. "And before you ask, there are two respectable options: you learn now, or you do what Gabriel did and refuse to know out of spite because he had beef with my recomndations."
Rafael’s lips twitched despite himself. "Gabriel refused?"
Marin’s eyes narrowed with the weary patience of a man who had survived too many powerful ogas. "Gabriel refused, argued with for ten minutes, told he didn’t want ’information that would make people more annoying,’ and then asked Damian if he already knew."
Rafael’s chest tightened slightly at the familiar pattern of Gabriel’s sharpness, his instinct to control the narrative by starving it.
Marin watched Rafael’s face, then said casually, "Speaking of which... your husband hasn’t asked."
Rafael went still. "No."
Marin’s gaze sharpened. "And you didn’t find that suspicious?"
Rafael frowned, thinking back - Gregoris’s careful hands, his possessive focus, and the way he spoke about the baby as if it was a person already. The way he’d been strict about Rafael eating, about rest, and about safety. But never once had he asked what the baby was.
Rafael’s throat went tight. "That ans he knows."
Marin’s brow rose. "He’s an alpha."
"That doesn’t an—"
"It does," Marin cut in, entirely unbothered. He leaned back against the counter. "Dominant alphas can often tell. Not always. Not with full accuracy early on. But Gregoris?" His mouth twisted like he found Gregoris personally exhausting. "Yes. He can feel it. It’s in your pheromones. In the way your body shifts its scent profile around certain developntal stages."
Rafael stared. "So he’s been—"
"Knowing," Marin finished, and then added dryly, "and being polite enough not to make it a topic, since you didn’t bring it up."
Rafael’s face ward, equal parts indignation and sothing softer he didn’t want to na. Gregoris could have used it as another possessive claim - another way to tighten the world around Rafael.
He hadn’t.
Rafael exhaled slowly. "Does it matter?"
Marin’s expression changed a fraction. "To you? It shouldn’t. You’ll love the child regardless."
Rafael’s fingers curled against the sheet. "I already do."
Marin’s gaze held his. "Then you can choose either way. Now, or later."
Rafael hesitated, surprising himself with a sudden, intense desire to know, not for the court, strategy, or titles. For sothing simpler, he just wanted to know.
He swallowed. "I want to know."
Marin nodded once, as if he’d expected it the mont Rafael realized Gregoris already could. He picked up the tablet again, tapped twice, and turned the screen slightly.
"Congratulations," Marin said, voice dry but not unkind. "You’re having an oga girl."
Rafael went very still.
Oga. Girl.
The words landed like a quiet bell in his chest.
He felt heat rise behind his eyes, irritatingly fast.
Marin watched him with the expression of a man who was determined not to be moved by noble sentint. "Don’t cry," he warned. "I will pretend I didn’t see it, but I will absolutely judge you internally."
Rafael huffed a laugh that ca out wrong, too close to a breath. "I’m not crying."
Marin arched a brow. "You’re shimring."
Rafael glared at him on principle, then looked down at his own hands as if they could contain what he felt. "An oga girl," he whispered, like repeating it would make it real.
Marin nodded. "Healthy. Strong. Ether signature stable. And already opinionated."
Rafael swallowed, throat tight. "Gregoris will—"
Marin’s mouth twitched. "Gregoris will look like he wants to burn the Empire down if anyone breathes wrong near her."
Rafael let out a soft, helpless sound - half amusent, half awe.
Marin stepped closer and handed him a folded paper with the updated report, his tone returning to brisk professionalism. "You can tell him when you want," he said. "Or you can let him pretend he doesn’t know and watch him suffer in silence."
Rafael blinked. "He would suffer."
Marin’s eyes narrowed. "He’s been pouting for five months because your body belongs to biology now instead of his schedule."
Rafael’s cheeks heated again.
Marin turned away, already done with the emotional portion of his day. "Now," he added, "go eat. Dessert included. Your daughter has standards."
Rafael looked down at the report in his hands.
Oga girl.
He hadn’t known he’d wanted the words until he had them.
And suddenly he couldn’t wait to see Gregoris’s face when he heard them out loud.
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