169 — We don’t control life.

Julian’s words make my heart skip a beat. But even in the face of my surprise, he continues to look at me with no sign of regret, no laughter, no hesitation... He really means it.
Yet I can’t smile.
Long seconds pass in my silence, and his expression gradually becomes worried. He watches my face intently, paying special attention to my brown eyes that say everything my lips cannot.
I don’t say a word for a while, and neither does Julian. The silence isn’t as comfortable as I’d like, but I can’t cut it. I swallow hard, my lips trembling, overwhelmed by too many intense sensations that ache my eyes.
I’ve always heard that emotions are on edge when you’re pregnant, but I never thought it was so true.
Julian sits down next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I lean my head against the curve of his neck, snuggling into the warmth of his body, wrapping myself in his strong arms.
I close my eyes, breathing in the refreshing scent of his soap and shampoo. He’s just gotten out of the shower; messy, wet hair used to be a rare sight, and today, it’s become my routine.
“I don’t want to pressure you,” Julian says softly. I think he’ll be disappointed, but in fact, he seems calm, still with a lot on his mind.
“You’re not pressuring me,” I retort, still unable to look at him. My heart is anxious. I can’t help but wiggle my toes in a nervous movement.
“We can take our time. When you’re ready-”
*“I am ready.* Of course, I want to marry you as soon as possible, but... You’re doing this for the sake of our babies, right?” I let out the words slowly, and they are so heavy that they make my chest feel lighter when they come out. “You want to speed up the wedding before the babies are born.”
*... because you don’t want them to suffer what I suffered being a bastard* — but I can’t say that, even though I’m the same. I don’t want my children to carry such a cruel label, either. It shouldn’t matter in this day and age, in the 21st century, but for Julian’s world, for old-money families, these are things that still carry value.
Yet Julian stays silent for a few moments, slowly drawing circles on my arm in a tender way that relaxes my heart.
“Well, it’s true that it would be good if our babies were born after the wedding, but that’s not the only reason.” He says, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I just want to call you my wife soon.”
I can’t see his face, but I’m sure he’s wearing that smug smile that always makes me smile as well.
“And if it’ll put your mind at ease a bit, why not?”
I crisp my lips, feeling my eyelashes get wet.
“You don’t have to worry about the Adams, though… Things like children out of wedlock, blood relationships, or social class — they don’t care about those things.” He says thoughtfully, his voice softer than usual. “My father is a very proud man when it comes to family honor and business, and for a long time, I thought he was a cold person. Well, I can see now that there are things we didn’t understand when we were young.”
“Is he like you?” I ask cautiously, unable to contain my curiosity.
“More than I’d like to admit.” Julian pauses for a moment thoughtfully. “I used to think not… that we were actually like water and oil. Of course, in appearance, there’s nothing to say. Blond hair and green eyes are Adams’ traits. Their children are almost like perfect copies. Well, except for Jessica. She looks a lot like our mother... physically speaking.”
“Do you have a sister?” I pull away from his arms to look at him, excitement running through every inch of my body. However, my voice sounded more surprised and pleased than I’d like, so I wilt and cover my mouth.
Julian laughs low, pulling my hand away, revealing my lips, which insist on rising in an enthusiastic smile. He slides his fingers along my wrist and palm until they finally intertwine with mine.
“I have many siblings. Five, actually. Although only one is a girl.” He says, looking at our joined hands. “Jeremiah is 29 years old. His personality is terribly similar to my father’s. I’d say he looks older than he really is because of the wrinkles from frowning so much. He’s extremely serious; it’s hard to see him laugh, and I definitely can’t imagine him making a joke... Actually, that would be creepy.”
I chuckle, snuggling close to his body for warmth again.
“What about the others?” I encourage him to continue because hearing about his family is something I’ve always wanted... it’s getting to know a part of Julian that I’ve always longed for.
“Josh is 26 years old. He’s the perfect balance between my Old Man and Mother. He’s serious but caring. He’s not the oldest, but he always finds a way to take care of us... It’s interesting to see how Jeremiah’s stern manner can’t go against our little brother.”
I can imagine this interaction… it must be really fun and affectionate.
“Jordan is almost your age. To be exact, he’s nine months older than you.” He murmurs thoughtfully, and I find myself wondering how he can say it so accurately.
But as if trying to distract the thought, Julian raises his voice, sounding more enthusiastic, “He has a band... He’s the guitarist. Jordy always said he wanted to be a rock star. I’d say he’s the most carefree... It doesn’t seem to be a shred of worry in his bones.”
The smile on Julian’s face shows me that he’s proud of his brothers and deeply cares about them, even if this is the first time in years that he has truly spoken about them. He’s finally opening up to me, showing me yet another side of him — and, like always, he manages to warm my heart with every single one of them.
“Jess, our little sister, is the youngster. She’s 20 years old, in college... Fashion degree.” He smiles, his green eyes twinkling. “She’s the funny type, you know? She naturally attracts people, although she doesn’t show it easily. To the world, she seems serious and distant, but she’s actually caring and adorable.”
“So she’s the most like you?” I shrug him off with a small laugh.
Julian looks at me with surprise, as if this realization really shocks him. But then his expression softens, as do his eyes, and he smiles, “Yes, I think so.”
I stay silent, laying my head on his shoulder again. There’s still a brother left. He talked about all the younger ones but left out the oldest, my father’s deceased best friend... *Jacob Adams.*
“I had an older brother, too. It’s been a long time, but I still can’t consider myself the oldest. I don’t want to take his place. Even if Jess and Jordan didn’t know him, Jack is part of the family.”
I tilt my head, resting my forehead on the curve of his neck and touching his chest slowly.
“My mother was seven months pregnant when Jack died,” Julian murmurs, raising his head, staring at the ceiling with a lost look as if sinking into memories. “Car accident at eighteen. So young... It wrecked us all, you know? Our family seemed on the verge of collapse, and there was nothing I could do. I was a kid with PTSD, feeling responsible for everything... As I should. *It was my fault.”*
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say firmly, but Julian doesn’t even flinch. I can imagine that he’s heard it a million times, and it never mattered. I know because I’ve been through the same.
Perhaps blaming yourself is easier than believing it was just a *fluke*… Otherwise, it would mean accepting that there is no true meaning.
In the end, blaming something or someone is both therapeutic and destructive. I know... better than anyone, I understand that.
That’s why I can’t say anything other than these words, which, although they’re not empty, don’t resonate with him.
“It was my fault. I was the one who insisted on that damn race. If I hadn’t asked for it...” Julian stops and bites his lip hard, looking for physical pain to relieve the anguish in his chest.
I take his face in my hands, pulling his lip down, as he has done to me many times before.
“It was a *fatality,”* I say firmly. “You may have asked for it, but who’s to say things would have been different? If you could go *back in time* and redo that moment, choosing something different... can you guarantee that it wouldn’t happen any other way?”
Julian looks at me surprised but seems to think my question through. He shakes his head and lowers his eyes, unable to look at me directly.
“You didn’t kill your brother, Julian. It was an accident. Just as I didn’t kill my mother, the *disease did.* It could happen at that moment, two or ten years in the future... or it could not happen. The same goes for a car accident; you can’t tell. There’s no way of knowing, no way of changing... Because we don’t control life — it just happens.”
His eyes glisten with tears and feelings that seem about to overflow, but he doesn’t say a word... he just brings his lips close to my forehead, giving it a lingering kiss.
“When did you become so smart?”
“Are you saying I wasn’t smart before?” I pretend to be offended with a pout.
He laughs, placing his hand on the back of my neck, his fingertips tangling in my hair. His touch makes me sigh, and I part my lips naturally, waiting for his.
Julian kisses me slowly, just with the brush of our mouths. It’s a tender kiss, full of intense feelings that overwhelm and warm my chest.
“Thank you.” He says against my lips, stroking the skin of my neck as we lean our foreheads together. “Somehow, I really believe your words.”
“That’s because you love me.”
He laughs softly, smiling against my smile, and threatens to kiss me again.
“You’re right. I do love you.”
“I love you too, and I’m glad you opened up to me a bit. Thank you for telling me about your family.” I say, closing my eyes and mixing our breaths. “But see, I’ve been dying to know, and I really need to ask... Why do all your names start with J?”
Julian bursts into laughter, a low, soft, delicious sound to the ears, and even his eyes seem to smile. He pulls our faces apart, shaking his head, but still keeps me in his touch.
“Actually, that’s a funny story. My mother is obsessed with *J,”* he says, looking up as if remembering something funny. “When she was a child, she met a fortune teller. The woman said that all the blessings in her life would begin with the *letter J* and that they would only bring her happiness.”
My heart warms, and my eyes water… What a beautiful way of blessing your children.
“Your mother really sounds like a caring person.”
Julian’s laughter ends in an affectionate smile, and he nods, with somber eyes, “Yes... She used to be.”