Ian picked me up from the airport, but apparently had already been informed that I was bringing an infant along. He wasn't surprised, but it truly was an odd thing. Since the moment me and my son entered the limousine, Ian had not spoken a word. I caught him looking through the mirror a few times and glanced at the baby, but still he remained silent.

I really messed up.

I know I did, but I don't know how to fix it. I forcefully brought an unknown child into the royal family, which couldn't be any worse. Nothing about him was known, not even his nationality. This was causing trouble but I know, when push comes to shove, I would stand up for him. He was important now.

Sarina was waiting in front of the palace doors when we arrived, even though it was far past midnight. She had her arms folded, fury etched into her brow with eyes revealing her confliction. She wanted a baby, that much was true, but these circumstances made it a bit difficult to be excited. I basically picked up the first infant that came my way and expected everything to work out. Sarina didn't like it.

"How dare you not consult me about this first?" was the first thing Sarina asked, completely ignoring the stroller I was pushing. I sighed deeply, feeling myself get exhausted all over again.

"Sarina, can we not do this now?" in retrospect, maybe that wasn't the smartest thing I could have said.

"No! We are doing this right now!" she was enraged, and I figured she was over exaggerating. Although, maybe if I was in her shoes, I would be to. She really wanted to do the adoption. "Do you even know the mother's name?" I didn't answer. "Is he American?" I couldn't answer that either. "Dammit Melanie!" I stepped up to her and wrapped my arms around her, attempting to calm her but she retaliated, pushing away my hands.

"Sarina, I... I'm sorry," but she just shook her head and look away, sniffing. She closed her eyes and shook her head once more.

"What's his name?" I frowned at this.

"You mean the baby?" she nodded. "He doesn't have one yet," she looked back at me, eyes wide. A startling cry pierced the air and I realized our not-so hushed tones awoke the little one. Sarina took a step back in surprise, her eyes wide as if she just realized the depth of the situation for the first time. I shook my head and buried my face in my hands, dread overcoming me.

"Can you... can you maybe?" Sarina understood what I meant and took a step over to the stroller, pulling over the cover. Inside the little boy was crying hysterically, not able to recognize anything through his tears. Hesitantly, she pulled the tiny human into her arms and held him like she saw in films.

"This... is so weird," Sarina admitted, taking in the full form of the boy. He was covered in a white blanket, his blue eyes teary and his nose runny. I couldn't help but notice how he looked the part of the 'master race' but also contemplated how one child had enough bodily fluids cry permanently for the three weeks he's been alive.

My headache was killing me.

"Like... we need to give him a name, right?" I looked up at Sarina in surprise, seeing her smile back at me. I softened, feeling myself become relieved.

"That... well, yeah. Uhm... look, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry that I didn't consult you first but... look at him. I couldn't just leave him," she cast her eyes down to the crying baby, bouncing him slightly in hopes of calming him. His round face was utterly adorable, and Sarina couldn't take her eyes off him.

"He's perfect," she whispered, finally letting the tears fall down her cheeks. She was emotional but didn't care, because all that mattered was that she was holding her son for the first time. "Bert?" Sarina suggested.

"Ambrose?" I shot back my suggestion, waiting for her answer. She hummed in thought before nodding, snuggling him to her chest.

"Ambrose Bert," Sarina nodded, giving the final decision.

"Ambrose Bert Darlington," I mirrored, stepping over to my family and wrapped my arms around both of them. I relished in their presence, thinking of all the magical experiences we will have together. I loved them, truly and utterly.

♙♢♙♢♙

Three hours later, when it was well the next day and extremely early, the sharp piercing cry of a child who couldn't stay asleep no matter what. I wanted to mirror Ambrose's actions, wanting to cry myself. If it hadn't been for Sarina subconsciously always nagging me for a baby, I would've never gotten a child if it was up to me. I valued sleep, after all.

"What is that?" Sarina groaned annoyingly, turning over in bed to face to me. She snuggled up against me, relishing in my body heat. I sighed and kissed her forehead.

"I believe that is your son," I whispered into her hair. She groaned.

"Can't a palace maid go see what he wants?" I shook my head whilst stroking her hair.

"You don't want your son to be raised by an outside woman, don't you?" she scoffed.

"Are you guilt-tripping me right now?" she voiced, accusingly. I chuckled slightly and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"I haven't slept properly in two weeks because of him. Please?" she sighed deeply before rolling over and climbed out of bed. I wanted to reach over and pull her back but I knew I couldn't do that. Now there was someone else in our relationship, and with that came new and unwanted responsibilities. I rolled over and buried my face into the pillow, letting out a deep breath.

I don't want a baby.

I really don't.

"Wait," I suddenly heard, and turned to see Sarina standing in the entrance to our room. "You've had him for two weeks?" I probably looked like a deer caught in headlights, but then again I was too tired to process anything.

"Yeah. He doesn't like his diaper being changed," I was too tired to notice the analytic look she was giving me and instead plopped my head back down onto the pillow. She stormed out and into the next room that had been quickly redesigned to be a baby room. Ian had set out the guards to gather basic furniture for at least the night, and that was another thing Sarina hadn't been too happy about.

She had wanted to design the room.

I dozed off in the little while she was gone and returned a few minutes later, a scowl etched into her brows. She climbed back into bed, slipping under the covers but basically on the edge of the bed. I frowned sleepily, attempting to pull her closer but she whacked away my hand. I propped myself onto my elbows, looking over at her.

"Are you okay?" her back was to me, refusing to turn to face me.

"Two weeks. Two weeks and you couldn't think about picking up the phone!" she hissed with a venomous tone that I couldn't ignore. I shook my head and fell back onto my back. I didn't answer, because I didn't have an answer. Why didn't I ever call her? Why did I decided that keeping a child that I didn't even want to myself was in my best interest?

I had no excuse. I couldn't even understand my own actions anymore.

"You're not going to answer?" she was agape, turning her bed back to peer at me accusingly. I couldn't stand to handle the glance, so I turned over onto my side. She huffed in disbelief and turned over again, our bodies as far away as possible yet still in the same bed.

This kid might as well be ruining my marriage.