Nesting,Billionaire Style

Aayan Al-Fayed was a man of taste, power, and terrifying efficiency. He closed million-dollar deals over breakfast, invested in global tech by lunch, and came home by dinner to rub his very pregnant wife's swollen feet while whispering sweet nothings into her third-trimester belly.

But today?

Today he was at war.

With curtains.

“This one,” he barked at the interior designer, holding up swatches like he was picking fabric for a royal coronation. “Organic. Hypoallergenic. Beige—but the soft beige, not this… khaki peasant nonsense.”

The designer blinked. “Sir, it’s just—”

“Nothing is just anything,” Aayan snapped, pivoting dramatically to stare at the half-assembled crib. “My children will not breathe in factory-manufactured trauma.”

Across the room, Jamila—eight months pregnant with twins and sitting in the most luxuriously oversized armchair she could find—lifted a pickle to her lips and spoke without breaking eye contact.