Page 5

Magnolia Steel

The moment we step inside, I’m wrapped in warmth—spiced air rich with ginger, cardamom, and something buttery and slow-cooked. Soft sitar music hums in the background, blending with the low clink of copper dishes.

Alex squeezes my hand. “Krishna picked this restaurant. Says the place reminds her of home.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve found my new favorite place to eat.”

We’re barely through the restaurant’s entrance when we spot them. Krishna waves us over from a cozy corner booth, grinning as though we’re already old friends.

Warm-toned skin, espresso-dark eyes, and a crown of glossy waves tucked behind one ear give her a quiet elegance. No flash, no fuss. Simply the unmistakable radiance of a pregnant woman.

She pushes back from the table and moves toward us with grace.

“You must be Magnolia,” she says, wrapping me in a hug. “I’m Krishna—Kye’s better half.”

“Definitely the better half,” Kye adds, rising with a grin. “Nice to meet you, Magnolia. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who managed to tame this guy.”

Alex slides his hand across my lower back. “The truth? I never had a shot at not falling for this one.”

“I’m glad to have another woman around. It’s all testosterone, all the time, when your husband is in this business.”

Kye chuckles. “Excuse you, lovie. It’s been all pregnancy hormones around here, and I’m just trying to survive.”

Krishna places her hand on top of her small bump. “All thanks to this one. Not even here yet and already running the show.”

I smile, watching the way her hand lingers, protective and proud. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to grow a life inside you. To know every kick, every flutter is yours to protect. To love someone you haven’t even met yet with your whole heart.

Pregnancy looks terrifying, and beautiful, and… maybe a little magical.

We settle into the booth, and ditching all formality, Kye leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “So, Magnolia—how was the big move? Settling in all right?”

“It’s been a big change, but I love being here,” I say, turning to Alex with a smile. “The best part is I get to be with this guy.”

Kye smirks. “He’s an all right kind of bloke, I suppose. What about the wedding? Set a date yet?”

“No official date yet, but we’re looking.”

“We’ve talked about six months,” Alex says, his hand settling warm and steady on my thigh beneath the table. “But I’m hoping for sooner.”

Krishna grins. “Love that. Long enough to enjoy the planning, short enough to keep everyone from losing their minds.”

Kye lets out a low chuckle. “So it is possible to plan a wedding without losing your mind? Good to know. We planned for something small—casual beach ceremony, family only. Somehow it turned into a four-piece string quartet, a guest list we lost control of, and a budget that still gives me hives.”

Krishna shoots him a look, half amusement, half warning. “You mean the wedding that turned out perfectly?”

He holds up his hands, grinning. “Wouldn’t change a thing. Just saying it’s nice to see a couple aiming for sanity.”

Our drinks arrive—Kingfisher for Kye and Alex, a crisp riesling for me, and sparkling water with lime for Krishna. Kye lifts his glass. “To fresh starts, bold moves, and people who leap at the right time.”

We toast, the soft clink of glass against glass ringing out under the mellow hum of sitar music.

I know why we’re here.

The rugby conversation is coming—it’s humming under Alex’s skin in the way he keeps flexing his hand, as if he’s working through the nerves in his palm. But Kye hasn’t rushed him. He’s opening up with discussing our life first, not Alex’s comeback.

That matters to me. It says this isn’t only about getting a player back on the field. It’s about the person sitting beside me.

We eat, passing dishes around. The butter chicken melts on my tongue. Krishna orders extra garlic naan and insists I take the last piece.

Talk drifts from weddings to baby names.

“We’re not finding out,” Krishna says, patting her belly. “Kye wanted to, but I told him there are so few surprises left in the world. Might as well let this be one.”

“I’m on board now,” Kye says, though the twitch of a grin suggests it might not have come easily. “She banned gender reveal parties from day one. Said if anyone shows up with a confetti cannon, they’re uninvited to the christening.”

The plates are cleared, and Kye leans back, folding his hands. His tone shifts, lined with purpose. “Talk to me about the surgery. How’s the ankle?”

Alex sets down his beer, ready to talk business.

“It’s solid. The surgeon said the procedure was a success.

Physio’s gone better than I expected. I started light training in the States—range of motion, conditioning, building the muscle back.

Still got a way to go, but Doc gave me the all-clear for full-contact drills. ”

Kye nods, processing. “It feels good this time?”

“Better than ever. I’ve done things right.”

Kye studies him for a long second, the agent in him surfacing—calculating, cautious. “What’s the verdict, Sebring? Are you coming back?”

I want this for him—God, I do. He lights up when he talks about the game and comes alive in a way that nothing else seems to match.

I’ve seen the fire in him, the way training has sharpened his focus and softened some of the tension in his shoulders.

He’s worked hard. Steady. Determined. No cutting corners.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.

Scared of another injury. Scared of the chaos this might bring. Scared of how much I adore a man whose first love has always been a field lined with white paint and blood.

Still… I’m proud in a way that sits in my chest like both a balloon and an anchor.

If this makes him feel more himself again, I want it for him for as long as he can chase it.

“I’m ready to come back.”

Kye nods, his expression softening. “Let’s do it, mate. We’ll talk to David, set up a training schedule, get ahead of the press before the rumors swirl. You’ve got one hell of a comeback story. Might as well write the next chapter before someone else tries to write it for you.”

Alex’s whole face lights up—brighter than I’ve seen in weeks. There’s a fire in his eyes, the kind that only shows up when a man’s stepping back into the thing that makes him feel alive. And in that moment, I know. This is more than a good decision. It’s the right one.

He exhales like he’s finally breathing the air that belongs to him again.

“Let’s do it.”

Alex leans into Kye’s enthusiasm, the two of them already tossing around ideas about training schedules and off-season strategies. It’s like watching someone slip back into their skin, and I can’t stop smiling—even if part of me is still catching up to the weight of what this all means.

Dessert is finished, and the mood at the table is bright with talk of all the possibilities.

Krishna dabs her mouth with her napkin and leans toward me. “I’m gonna duck off to the loo. Come with?”

The moment the bathroom door clicks shut behind us, Krishna laughs. “Apologies. Didn’t mean to dash out, but I thought I needed to pee. Now? Nothing. Pregnancy is wild. It messes with your body in ways no one warns you about.”

She uncaps her lipstick and leans toward the mirror, applying it. She catches my eye and grins. “How does it feel knowing you’re about to marry into the madness? Are you ready to be a rugby wife?”

I laugh, surprised. “Is that a thing?”

“Oh, it’s a thing,” she says, tossing her lipstick back into her bag. “Some wives are amazing—strong, grounded, the sort who’ll save your sanity in the stands. But then there are the others.”

She gives me a look—equal parts amused and deadpan. “Let’s just say high school didn’t end for some of them. It just has better handbags and Botox appointments now.”

I groan, but it’s playful. “Good to hear. I’ll keep my armor polished.”

“You’re different from what they’re used to,” she says. “They’ll either love you or fear you. Both work.”

She rolls her shoulders and straightens, her hand darting to her belly. Her expression shifts—surprise, then joy. “Oh! There’s that little flutter again.”

“Wow. That must be amazing. Do you have a feeling about the gender?”

“In my head, it’s a boy. Kye says a girl.”

“Well, one of you must be right.”

Krishna laughs. “How old are you, Magnolia?”

“Thirty-one.”

She nods. “Do you plan to wait a while?”

I shrug. “We want children, but the timeline is up in the air.”

The words sound simple, but they barely scratch the surface. The truth is that I’m not sure what rugby’s going to mean for our lives and everything we’re trying to build.

It’s hard not to wonder what that means for us. How much time will he have for home? For me? For a family?

I understand what the game demands. This isn’t a part-time passion. It’s a full-body, full-heart commitment. And while I will be beside him in it, I also know I don’t want to raise a baby half alone while he’s traveling or nursing a busted body.

So yeah, we want kids. But I’m not ready to bring one into the world unless we’re both here for it. Fully. And right now, that’s still a little too foggy for me to see.

“I was thirty-four and Kye was thirty-eight when we got married. We didn’t want to wait to start our family—and thank God we didn’t.

Even getting a jump on it, it still took nearly two years.

Specialists. Tests. A lot of hoping through heartbreak.

It wasn’t just effort—it was luck, timing, stars aligning in just the right way.

We were a week away from starting IVF when this one surprised us. ”

Krishna’s words aren’t a warning. More a gentle, well-meaning nudge.

“It made us realize how little control we had.”

Something about that sticks, nothing unsettling, but it makes me take stock.

I’ve spent so much of my adult life avoiding pregnancy. But I’ve never once considered what would happen if, when the time came, I couldn’t. If wanting wasn’t enough.

Krishna’s tone is gentle, an offering of advice without pressing into sacred territory.

“You’re young. There’s no rush, especially if you’re still figuring things out.

But since you know you want kids someday, it might not be a bad idea to see someone.

Just to get a sense of where your fertility is at. ”

It’s the way she says it—easy, warm, like a friend passing on hard-won wisdom—that makes it land without pressure.

“I need to find a GYN here anyway. No harm in getting checked out.”

She smiles, soft and knowing. “Exactly. Just information. That’s all it is.”

Taking stock doesn’t mean we’re going to try tomorrow. It means being prepared when we decide the time is right.

“Since you don’t have a care provider yet, I recommend Dr. Meera Shah. She’s brilliant. Gentle, practical, no scare tactics. You’d love her. She’s a straight shooter. The good kind.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll make an appointment with her.”

We step back into the restaurant, slipping into the low buzz of clinking glasses and murmured conversation. Things have changed little at the table—Alex still leans back with his beer, Kye animated as he talks through preseason plans.

There’s a natural lull now—the unmistakable post-dinner exhale when everyone’s full, content, and not quite ready to move. Krishna gives Kye a look—one of those silent married glances that says everything—and he responds with a knowing nod.

“Shall we?” he asks, already reaching for his jacket.

We gather our things, sliding out of the booth and murmuring thank-yous to the staff as we make our way out.

In the car, I stare out the G-Wagon window, watching the Sydney skyline stretch and blur—city lights smudging into long watercolor streaks across the glass. Alex glances over a few times, quiet, reading me in that way he does.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod, slow. Thoughtful. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

But the things I’m thinking about aren’t small.

It’s more than the conversation with Kye, which will shift the entire trajectory of our lives. More than the soft flutter of a baby. More than Krishna’s story, though it lingers. It’s the weight of the complete picture. The scope of what’s ahead.

It’s our future, widening, unfolding—a road I hadn’t fully seen until now. And suddenly, I can’t unsee it.