Chapter 124 124

Chapter 124 124
\[Caden's POV\]

The prenatal yoga class is exactly as uncomfortable as I anticipated.

The studio is warm and dim, filled with women in various stages of pregnancy and a handful of partners who look about as out of place as I feel. Alessandro  and I attract immediate attention when we walk in with Selena between us—curious glances that quickly become whispered conversations when people realize we're together. All three of us.

"Just ignore them," Selena murmurs, squeezing both our hands before releasing them to check in at the front desk.

Ignoring them is easier said than done. I've never been particularly comfortable with attention, and the scrutiny feels especially pointed in this context. These people are making assumptions about us, constructing narratives to explain our presence, and none of those narratives are likely to be flattering.

Alessandro , characteristically, seems unbothered. He surveys the room with an easy confidence that I envy, then selects a spot near the back corner where we'll have at least some semblance of privacy. I follow, spreading out the yoga mat I purchased yesterday—a deep navy blue that Selena insisted "coordinated" with Alessandro 's charcoal gray and her soft lavender.

"You look like you're preparing for battle," Alessandro  observes, watching me align my mat with geometric precision.

"I'm preparing for public humiliation," I correct him. "The two aren't mutually exclusive."

"It's yoga, Caden. Stretching and breathing. Even you can't optimize that into a competitive advantage."

"Watch me."

Selena returns with a smile that tells me the registration went smoothly, settling onto her mat between us with a grace that belies her expanding middle. She's beautiful like this—not despite her pregnancy but because of it, glowing with a vitality that makes my chest tight with emotions I'm still learning to name.

The instructor is a serene woman in her fifties who introduces herself as Maya and speaks in a voice so calm it borders on hypnotic. She guides us through a series of poses designed to accommodate pregnant bodies, emphasizing breath and alignment and the connection between mother and baby.

I struggle more than I expected. My body, honed by years of disciplined exercise, doesn't know how to relax into these gentle stretches. I keep tensing, anticipating effort that isn't required, trying to perfect movements that are meant to be felt rather than accomplished.

"You're overthinking it," Selena whispers during a particularly challenging pose that involves being on all fours while moving the spine in ways that feel deeply unnatural. "Just breathe."

"I am breathing."

"You're calculating. There's a difference."

She's right, of course. She usually is when it comes to identifying my coping mechanisms. I take a deliberate breath, trying to release the tension I've been holding, and feel something shift—a subtle loosening in my shoulders that spreads gradually downward.

"Better," Selena says, smiling.

Alessandro , on her other side, appears to be having no trouble at all. He flows through the poses with an ease that seems almost insulting, occasionally catching my eye with expressions of exaggerated serenity that are definitely meant to provoke me.

"Show-off," I mutter.

"Natural talent," he counters.

"Children," Selena interjects. "Focus."

The class continues for another forty-five minutes, transitioning from physical poses to breathing exercises designed to prepare for labor. This part is harder in different ways—not physically demanding, but emotionally intense. Maya guides us through visualization techniques, asking the mothers to imagine their birthing experience while partners provide support.

I place my hand on Selena's lower back as instructed, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her yoga clothes. Alessandro  mirrors the position on her other side, and for a moment, we exist in a bubble of connection that feels sacred somehow. Three people, bound together by choice and circumstance and the life growing between us.

"Imagine meeting your baby for the first time," Maya says, her voice floating through the dimness. "Picture the moment when they place her in your arms. Feel the weight of her, the warmth of her skin against yours. This is what you're working toward. This is what makes everything worthwhile."

Selena's breath catches, and I feel her shudder slightly beneath my palm. When I look at her face, her eyes are closed but tears are tracking slowly down her cheeks—not sad tears, I realize, but overwhelmed ones. The emotions of the moment finally breaking through the walls she's spent a lifetime building.

Alessandro  notices too, his hand moving from her back to her shoulder, offering silent support. We bracket her between us, these two men who somehow learned to stop competing and start collaborating, providing the stability she needs to fall apart safely.

When the class ends, Selena wipes her eyes with a laugh that's half embarrassed and half relieved.

"Sorry," she says. "I didn't expect to get so emotional."

"Don't apologize," I tell her. "That's what we're here for."

"To watch me cry in public?"

"To watch you feel things in public," Alessandro  corrects. "There's a difference."

We gather our things and make our way out of the studio, passing through groups of other couples who watch us with expressions ranging from curiosity to something that might be envy. One woman—heavily pregnant, her partner's arm around her shoulders—catches Selena's eye and offers a small, knowing smile.

"You're lucky," she says quietly. "Having two people in your corner."

Selena's hand finds mine on one side and Alessandro 's on the other.

"I know," she replies.

The walk home is quiet but comfortable, the three of us moving through the city streets with an ease that still surprises me sometimes. Six months ago, I couldn't have imagined this—couldn't have pictured myself attending prenatal yoga with the man I once considered my rival, supporting the woman we both love as she prepares to bring our daughter into the world.

Life has a way of exceeding expectations, I've learned. Both the good ones and the bad.

"Same time next week?" Alessandro  asks as we approach our building.

Selena nods. "Same time next week."

"I'll be there," I confirm.

"With your coordinating yoga mat?"

"With my coordinating yoga mat."