Your Name After Novels & Stories

The ritual of after-school that had become its own kind of language. She waited. Watching me. Eight years old and already in possession of the particular patience of someone who'd decided that rushing would only delay things. I sat across from her. Tea in both hands. "Okay," I said. "What do you want to know?" "Everything." She pulled the apple toward her. "Your book has lots of names in it. Aria Winters. Aria Lancaster. Alessandra Ashford. And on the cover it says Aria Ashford Rhodes. But at school you're called Mrs. Rhodes. And sometimes on the news they say Aria Winters. I want to understand."

Suddenly, I have the most exquisite feeling to shield the little wolf from everything bad that could harm him. Is this the love of a parent for their son? I crouch down until I’m eye level with him, running a finger down his precious face. “What shall we name him?” Emma asks. “Ayden Alaric.” I say without hesitation. I’ve given it some thought before. He will be named after the greatest men I knew, my father and the man who taught me that there is nothing more important than family. “Those are beautiful names.” She says, rocking him in her arms. “Almost as beautiful as he is.”

“Okay, Sin, let’s start the conversation. Why did you choose the name ‘Sin’? What inspired it?” How many times do I have to answer this question? Are they going to ask me again who hurt me, or why I wrote such a tragic story? I sighed before replying. “I named myself after a Mesopotamian goddess. His name was Nanna, but I liked Sin better, so I chose it as my pen name. It means ‘the illuminator.’ I wanted to be someone who sheds light, someone who provides insight, clarity, or understanding.” I left out the real reason why I picked the name.

She cuddled her and kissed her forehead and asked, “Have you guys settled on a name yet?” Joshua and I looked at each other and smiled knowingly. I answered, “We decided that we wanted to name her after a woman who influenced me the most in my adult life and coaxed me out of my shell. I couldn’t have become an alpha without the confidence that she built in me. Her middle name is the same as the woman who gave me life. Our little girl’s name is Jessica Marie.” Jessie sighed, “Aw, how cu-“ She realized our baby was named after her and she had tears flowing freely down her cheeks and Matthew was rubbing her back, comforting her. I smiled, my eyes starting to get misty, “Yes, she is named after

The noise gradually dies down, but I can still hear people asking about the name, the anticipation thick in the air. Chase raises his hands, and the crowd quiets even more. “Yes, you’re right. It was named after someone special. A person who made us realise what’s important—that hiding gives people leverage and the ability to use and hurt you. I think you’ll all agree that the new name is fitting, as I’m sure many of you have faced a few of these people in your life.”

When she was gone, I turned toward Stacy. “Hey,” I said softly. He stirred, then blinked awake, rubbing his eyes. “Did I miss something? Is he okay?” “He’s perfect,” I said. “But we forgot one thing.” Stacy pushed himself upright and leaned over us, brushing a finger across the baby’s hand. “Name?” I nodded. “I want to name him after someone.” He looked at me carefully. “Who?” “You,” I said. His throat bobbed. “I mean it,” I whispered. “You saved us. All of us. Over and over again. You gave him life. You gave me mine back. And I want him to know… not just who you are. But what it means to carry your name.”

But now, staring down at him, there was no question. I swallowed hard, my voice thick with pride. “Xavier. After my father.” Laila squealed, Sarah cooed, and Liam nodded approvingly. “Perfect,” he murmured. Before anyone could say more, the door swung open again. My mother rushed in, her robe half-tied, her eyes already glistening. Behind her, my father—Alpha Xavier—stood frozen in the doorway, his expression unreadable. I turned to face him, my heart pounding. “Dad,” I said, louder this time, firmer. “We’re naming him Xavier. After you.”

She shrugged, sipped her drink. “I was named after my Dad’s sister Annette, but she was a real nightmare. By the time I was about ten, she and my parents had completely fallen out, so I started going by my middle name. I liked it better, anyway.” “Ohhh-kay,” Dux said slowly. “That all makes sense. But from Morris to Cross?”

Finally. Named.

“I beg your pardon, dear. I guess… you don’t have one of those, do you? Or rather, you don’t know who he might be.” “No, but that’s okay.” Rain managed a smile, knowing no harm had been intended. She had never spent much time at all thinking about who her father was or what might’ve become of him, but the question found a place in her mind, somewhere she could come back to it later. “We are named after the town where we live, so my name is Rain Gretchintown.” “Really?” Naomi asked, her eyes wide. “That’s… interesting.”