Something was wrong.
Nana stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, hands pressed to her still-flat stomach, trying to understand what was happening to her body.
For two weeks now, she'd been feeling... different.
Sick in the mornings. Throwing up after breakfast. Certain smells made her want to vomit—Zayne's coffee, the neighbor's cooking, even her own shampoo suddenly seemed wrong.
And she was picky about food now. Couldn't eat things she normally loved. Craved weird combinations like pickles and ice cream at 2 AM.
Her period was late. Very late.
*Since Zayne was too enthusiastic about loving me every night after the facilities cleared...*
She blushed thinking about it. About how desperate they'd both been for normalcy. For connection. For life after so much death.
About how Zayne had held her every night like she was precious. Like she was everything.
And now—
*Oh my god. Am I pregnant?*
Her hands shook as she opened the bathroom cabinet. Found the pregnancy tests Zayne had quietly stocked there on their wedding night—optimistic, prepared, hoping for this exact moment.
Nana read the instructions three times. Followed them exactly. Set the test on the counter and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
She paced the bathroom like a caged tiger. Enhanced speed making her circuit the small space too fast. Nearly wore a path in the tile.
*What if I am? What if I'm not? What if the enhancements affect the baby? What if—*
She looked at the test.
Two lines.
Two clear, undeniable, *beautiful* lines.
"Oh my god," Nana whispered. Hands flying to her mouth. Eyes filling with tears. "Oh my GOD."
She was pregnant. Carrying Zayne's child. Creating life despite being built as a weapon.
*I'm going to be a mother. We're going to be parents. We're going to have a BABY.*
Nana started screaming.
Not scared screaming. Happy screaming. Excited screaming that probably violated several noise ordinances.
She did a victory dance right there on the bathroom floor, jumping and spinning and laughing through tears.
*ZAYNE'S FANGIRLS MUST BE DYING NOW! HE'S MINE! AND NOW WE'RE HAVING A BABY!*
In the kitchen, Zayne choked on his coffee.
*Was that Nana screaming? Is she hurt? Did a Wanderer appear? Did—*
He ran to the bathroom, ice evol already forming, ready to fight—
And found his wife dancing on the bathroom floor, waving something at him.
"ZAYNE! ZAYNE LOOK!"
She shoved the pregnancy test at his face.
He stared at it. At the two lines. At the proof of everything he'd been hoping for.
Then at Nana's belly. Still flat. Still showing no signs. But growing life. Their baby. Their child.
Zayne started crying.
Just—completely broke down. Dropped to his knees on the bathroom floor and sobbed into his hands while Nana made concerned noises.
"Zayne? Are you—are you okay? I thought you'd be happy—"
"I AM happy," he choked out. "I'm SO happy. I've been waiting for this moment. Wanted this so badly. Wanted to have a family with you and it's happening—"
He pulled her down into his arms, holding her carefully—so carefully, like she was made of glass instead of reinforced bones and enhanced tissue.
"We're having a baby," he whispered against her hair. "You're pregnant. We're going to be parents."
"We're going to be parents!" Nana agreed, crying just as hard. "You're going to be a dad! I'm going to be a mom! We're going to have a tiny human!"
"The most chaotic tiny human," Zayne said, laughing through tears. "If they're anything like you—"
"Or calm like you!"
"Definitely chaotic like you."
"Could be a mix! Calm AND chaotic!"
"That sounds terrifying."
"That sounds PERFECT."
They held each other on the bathroom floor, crying and laughing and *celebrating* the tiny life growing between them.
Nana pulled Zayne to the bedroom—because bathroom floors were uncomfortable and she needed to kiss her husband properly.
She tackled him onto the bed (gently, because pregnant now, had to be careful) and kissed him with all the love and joy and hope she'd been holding inside.
"I love you," she said between kisses. "I love you so much. Thank you for giving me this. For making me believe I could have normal things. A family. A future."
"I love you too," Zayne said, hands careful on her waist, on her still-flat belly where their child was growing. "Thank you for choosing me. For surviving. For being here. For giving me everything."
Nana quit the Hunter Association that afternoon.
Walked into headquarters, submitted her resignation, and ignored the shocked faces.
"You're our best hunter—"
"I'm pregnant," Nana said simply. "I'm not risking my baby fighting Wanderers. I'm done."
And she was. No regrets. No second thoughts.
Just pure determination to protect the life growing inside her.
Zayne was thrilled. Also terrified. Mostly thrilled.
He became immediately, excessively, hilariously overprotective.
"You need to eat more vegetables."
"I'm eating vegetables—"
"MORE vegetables. The baby needs nutrients."
"Zayne, I'm eating a salad the size of my head—"
"Not big enough. Here, have more carrots."
He monitored her health constantly. Blood pressure checks twice daily. Vitamin regimens. Pregnancy books stacked everywhere. Baby development apps on his phone sending him hourly updates.
*Your baby is now the size of a poppy seed!*
*Your baby is now the size of a blueberry!*
Zayne read every notification with intense focus, then reported findings to Nana like they were critical medical data.
"The baby has developed fingers now. FINGERS, Nana. Our child has tiny fingers."
"That's... that's how babies work, yes."
"It's AMAZING."
They started building the nursery immediately.
Converting the spare room into baby headquarters. Painting walls (Nana picked colors, Zayne did the painting because "fumes might affect the baby"). Building furniture (Zayne assembled everything while Nana supervised and asked important questions like "what do babies actually DO?").
"They sleep, mostly," Zayne explained, building a crib. "And eat. And cry."
"That's it?"
"For the first few months, yes."
"Sounds boring. Should we build them a swing?"
"Nana, the baby will be a newborn—"
"BABIES NEED SWINGS. For development! And fun!"
So they built a swing. And bought approximately one million baby clothes because they couldn't help themselves.
Tiny onesies. Little socks. Hats smaller than Nana's fist.
"This is too much," Zayne said, staring at their overflowing shopping bags.
"It's NOT ENOUGH," Nana declared, grabbing more tiny clothes. "Our baby needs OPTIONS."
"Our baby won't even remember what they wore—"
"But WE'LL remember! And take pictures! So many pictures!"
Zayne gave up arguing and just let his wife buy everything in sight.
.
.
.
.
.
Nana was watering the plants (new hobby, trying to be domestic) when the Wanderer appeared.
Purple-black portal opening right in their small garden. Standard threat level. Nothing serious.
But Nana's combat instincts activated immediately.
She started to move—to kick, to fight, to eliminate—
Zayne was faster.
Ice bow manifesting. Arrow forming. SHOT.
The Wanderer dissolved before it could even fully materialize.
Nana stared. "I could have handled that—"
"You're PREGNANT," Zayne said firmly, ice bow still ready in case more appeared. "No kicking Wanderers. No fighting. No anything that might risk the baby."
"It was ONE Wanderer—"
"ONE is too many. I'll handle it."
He scanned the garden, looking for more threats, moving with combat efficiency that Nana had rarely seen from him.
*Oh. Oh wow. He's really good at this.*
"You could be a hunter," she said, watching him eliminate two more Wanderers that appeared. "You're too strong. And handsome. The Wanderers are probably falling in love with you."
Zayne shot her an amused look. "The Wanderers are not falling in love with me."
"I would. If I was a Wanderer. I'd be like 'oh no, hot ice doctor, guess I'll just dissolve for him'—"
"Nana."
"I'm SERIOUS. You're very attractive when you fight."
"You're very ridiculous when you're pregnant."
"Pregnancy hormones make me honest!"
Another Wanderer appeared. Zayne eliminated it without even looking, ice arrow flying with surgical precision.
Nana swooned dramatically. "My husband is so COOL."
"Your husband is worried about portal instability in residential areas and is filing a report with the Hunter Association about increased Wanderer activity—"
"My husband is SEXY and PROTECTIVE and I love him."
Zayne finally lowered his ice bow, satisfied the threat was contained. He pulled Nana close, hand automatically going to her belly.
"I love you too. Both of you." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now please go inside where it's safe."
"You're so bossy when I'm pregnant."
"You're so stubborn when you're pregnant."
"I've always been stubborn—"
"Exactly. Now inside. Doctor's orders."
Nana went inside, but only because she was tired and the baby was making her sleepy.
Zayne followed, already texting the Hunter Association about portal monitoring, because even on paternity leave (he'd taken early leave immediately upon learning about the pregnancy) he couldn't stop being protective.
That night, Nana lay in bed with Zayne's hand on her belly.
"Do you think they'll be enhanced?" she asked quietly. "Like us?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."
"What if they're a weapon too?"
"Then we'll teach them to choose," Zayne said firmly. "Like we did. Like Mina is learning to. Choice is what makes us human. Enhanced or not."
"What if people are afraid of them?"
"Then we'll protect them. Love them. Show them they're more than their modifications."
Nana turned to face him. "You've really thought about this."
"Every day since the wedding." He smiled. "I want this baby so much, Nana. Want to be a father. Want to give our child everything we didn't have—safety, choice, love."
"They're going to be so loved," Nana whispered. "So, so loved. Enhanced or not. Chaotic or calm. Ours."
"Ours," Zayne agreed, pulling her close.
They fell asleep like that—hands intertwined over her belly, protecting the tiny life growing between them.
Day 125.
Pregnant. Building a future. Creating life.
Perfect.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.