directors cut

Your disappearance from social media had not been planned.

At least, not at first.

You had always maintained a fairly active presence online. Nothing excessive, but enough that people had grown accustomed to seeing glimpses of your life: pictures from Montreal, dinners with friends, blurry photos of Juraj laughing when he thought you weren’t looking, and the occasional game-day outfit.

Your relationship with Juraj had never been a secret.

He had appeared on your page for the first time two years earlier, although fans had already figured everything out long before either of you confirmed it. Since then, people had watched you attend Canadiens games, spend summers in Slovakia, celebrate birthdays, and adopt a dog together.

Naturally, when you suddenly stopped posting, people noticed.

At first, nobody seemed particularly concerned. You occasionally took a week away from your phone, especially whenever you and Juraj traveled.

But one week became two, two became a month, then three months passed without a single photograph, story, comment, or like from your account.

The theories began almost immediately.

Some people thought you and Juraj had broken up. Others believed you were planning a wedding in secret. A few accounts claimed you had moved out of the Montreal apartment you shared, despite having absolutely no evidence.

Every time a camera caught Juraj leaving the Bell Centre alone, the speculation grew worse, He tried not to let it bother him “They think you dumped me again,” he announced one evening as he entered the bedroom.

You were already beneath the blankets, surrounded by pillows, with your laptop balanced against your thighs. Your dog was curled beside you, his head resting protectively near your bump.

You glanced away from the movie playing on the screen “Again?”

“Apparently, this is the third time this month.” Juraj removed his sweatshirt and dropped it over the back of a chair.

“Maybe you should stop looking at fan accounts.”

“I wasn’t looking.” You raised an eyebrow, he paused “Arber sent it to me.”

“That sounds more believable.” Juraj climbed onto the bed, careful not to disturb the dog as he settled beside you, His hand immediately found your bump.

It had become instinctive over the past few months.

Whether you were sitting together on the couch, standing in the kitchen, or sleeping beside each other, Juraj always seemed to have one palm resting over the small but increasingly noticeable curve beneath your clothes “How are my girls?” he asked.

You smiled softly “We’re okay.”

“Both of you?”

“Both of us.” He lowered his head, pressing a kiss against your stomach through your shirt.

It had taken nearly twenty weeks for you to learn that the baby was a girl. Juraj had claimed he would be happy either way, which you completely believed, but the moment the technician told you that you were having a daughter, his entire expression had changed.

He had stared at the ultrasound screen with tears gathering in his eyes.

A daughter.

His little girl, he had been completely enchanted from that moment forward. “You know,” you said, running your fingers through his hair, “you don’t have to ask me every ten minutes.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You asked me when you walked through the front door.”

“That was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Juraj.”

“A lot can happen in fifteen minutes.” You laughed, and he smiled against your bump before lifting his head. Behind his teasing, however, you could still see the concern in his eyes.

The first few months of your pregnancy had been difficult.

You had discovered you were pregnant shortly before the beginning of the season. You and Juraj had been trying for a year, but seeing the two lines had still left you sitting on the bathroom floor in stunned silence.

When Juraj came home from training, he found you there with tears streaming down your face and the test clutched in your hand. He had dropped to his knees so quickly that he almost slipped on the tile, the happiness had been immediate.

So had the fear.

You had barely made it to six weeks before the nausea became overwhelming. You struggled to keep food down, lost weight, and spent several afternoons receiving fluids at the hospital while Juraj sat beside you, still dressed in his Canadiens training gear.

Social media became the last thing on your mind. You stopped posting because you were too exhausted to pretend everything was normal. Then, when people began questioning your absence, the attention only made you retreat further.

You didn’t want strangers analyzing your face or your body, you didn’t want pregnancy rumors spreading before you had even heard your daughter’s heartbeat. Most importantly, you didn’t want to share her before you were ready.

Juraj understood.

He had supported every boundary you established, even when reporters began asking subtle questions about why you had stopped attending games “She’s good,” was all he ever said.

He never elaborated, he never gave them anything else.

Now, at twenty-four weeks, your sickness had finally eased. Your doctor was happy with both your health and the baby’s progress, and your stomach had rounded enough that hiding the pregnancy was becoming impossible.

Still, the thought of returning online made you nervous “You don’t have to post anything,” Juraj reminded you.

“I know.”

“We can wait until she is born.”

“I know.”

“We can wait until she graduates from university.”

You laughed. “That might be slightly suspicious.”

“They will think you are taking a very long social-media break.”

You closed your laptop and placed it on the nightstand “I miss it sometimes,” you admitted. “Not the comments or the speculation. I miss sharing things with people who have actually been kind to us.”

Juraj nodded thoughtfully.

There were fans who had supported you from the beginning. People who sent thoughtful messages, celebrated your anniversaries, and defended your privacy whenever others crossed boundaries.

You didn’t owe anyone an explanation, but a part of you wanted to share your happiness.

“I think I’m ready,” you said.

Juraj’s eyebrows lifted. “To announce?”

“I think so.”

His gaze immediately dropped toward your stomach before returning to your face “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He studied you for a moment, making certain you weren’t agreeing because of the rumors or pressure surrounding your disappearance. When he appeared satisfied, his entire face brightened “Can we use the jersey?”

You groaned playfully. For weeks, Juraj had been planning the announcement as though it were a carefully organized team event.

He had already ordered a miniature Canadiens jersey with SLAFKOVSKÝ printed across the back. Besides a custom jersey for him with DAD on the back, while another custom jersey for you displayed MOM.

The baby’s jersey was so small that it could fit between both of his palms “You’ve been waiting to use that jersey since you ordered it,” you said.

“Because it is perfect.”

“She won’t be able to wear it for months.”

“She can wear it home from the hospital.”

“She’ll be swimming in it.”

“That is okay. She will grow.” Juraj moved from the bed before you could object, disappearing into the room you had slowly begun converting into a nursery.

He returned carrying all three jerseys, an ultrasound photograph, and a pair of tiny white skates someone from the organization had gifted you after learning about the pregnancy.

You stared at the skates “Absolutely not.”

“They will look cute in the picture.”

“She cannot even stand.”

“She will learn.”

“She hasn’t been born yet.”

“She is already very advanced.” You bit back another laugh as he began arranging everything across the bed. The final picture was simpler than either of you expected, your jersey, his jersey and the tiny one positioned between them.

An ultrasound photograph rested above it, accompanied by the little skates and a small wooden sign displaying the month your daughter was due.

Juraj stood on the mattress to take the photograph from above, nearly losing his balance twice “Careful,” you warned.

“I have excellent balance.”

“You just stepped on my pillow.”

“The pillow moved.”

“The pillow is an inanimate object.” He ignored you, taking several more photographs before dropping beside you to examine them. Together, you selected the clearest image, then came the caption.

You typed several versions before deleting each one.

Nothing seemed capable of explaining the past few months properly. You didn’t want to share the frightening moments or the hospital visits. Those experiences still felt too private.

Eventually, you chose something simple.

You stared at the screen with your thumb hovering over the button, Juraj’s hand rested on your thigh “We don’t have to,” he said quietly.

You turned toward him, there was excitement in his eyes, but no expectation. He would have happily kept your daughter protected from the world forever if that was what you asked “I want to.”

Juraj leaned over and kissed your temple, you pressed the button and for the first time in nearly five months, a new photograph appeared on your account.

Life has looked a little different lately. We stepped away to protect something precious while we adjusted to our newest adventure. Baby Slafkovský arriving this winter. We already love you more than words can explain. 🤍

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then your phone began vibrating, the notifications appeared so quickly that the screen seemed frozen. Comments, messages, likes. You had barely processed the first wave before the Canadiens’ official account commented beneath the post.

Our youngest draft pick yet. ❤️

Arber followed almost immediately.

I’m buying her skates.

Cole responded beneath him.

She already has skates. Stop trying to take credit.

Nick posted several red hearts, while Juraj’s teammates continued filling the comments with jokes about who would be the baby’s favorite uncle. You were smiling as you scrolled until another notification appeared. Juraj had shared the post to his own account, You looked beside you “Did you add something?”

“No.”

“Juraj.”

His expression was far too innocent, you opened his story. Your photograph filled the screen, accompanied by the words:

My two girls. My whole world. See you soon, little one. Dad is waiting for you. ❤️

Emotion tightened your throat “You weren’t supposed to make me cry.”

“I only told the truth.”

You placed your phone aside, wiping beneath your eyes, Juraj immediately pulled you onto his lap, one arm around your waist and the other protecting your stomach “You okay?”

“Yes.” You rested your forehead against his. “Just emotional.”

“Our daughter makes you emotional.”

“Your story made me emotional.”

“So I make you emotional.”

“You’ve always made me emotional.”

He smiled proudly, as though you had paid him the highest possible compliment, your phone continued vibrating on the mattress, but neither of you reached for it.

For months, strangers had wondered where you had gone.

They had created theories, searched for clues, and attempted to fill the silence with their own explanations, the truth was far simpler. You had been at home with Juraj, learning how to become parents.

You had spent mornings sitting on the bathroom floor while he held your hair. Afternoons listening to a tiny heartbeat. Evenings discussing names, nursery colors, and whether your daughter would learn Slovak or English first.

You had disappeared from the world because your own world had changed entirely “I hope she looks like you,” Juraj murmured.

You shook your head. “I hope she gets your eyes.”

“My height.”

“Maybe not all of it. I’d prefer not to give birth to a six-foot baby.”

Juraj laughed, his hand spreading gently over the curve of your stomach, at that exact moment, your daughter kicked beneath his palm.

His laughter stopped, even though he had felt her move before, every kick still left him completely amazed “There,” he whispered. “She agrees with me.”

“She probably wants you to stop talking.”

“No. She knows my voice.”

“She hears your voice constantly.”

“Exactly. She loves it.”

He lowered his face toward your stomach “Hi, princess. Everyone knows about you now.” another small movement pressed against his hand. Juraj looked up at you, his expression softening “They love her already"

“They do.”

“But not as much as us.”

“Not even close.”

He kissed your stomach before lifting you carefully from his lap and settling you back against the pillows. Your phone continued lighting up beside you, you glanced at it once more before switching it to silent.

The world had waited months for your return, it could wait a little longer, because Juraj was lying beside you with his palm over your daughter, whispering promises to a baby he hadn’t met yet.

The summer nights in Germany were warmer than you had expected.

Even with the bedroom window cracked open, the air felt heavy, carrying the soft chirping of crickets and the occasional sound of a car passing along the quiet street outside. You had kicked the blankets away hours ago, and the small fan in the corner did little more than circulate the warmth around the room.

The two cribs beside the bed remained empty. Not because Ben and Anne were awake.

For the first time since bringing the twins home, both babies were sleeping peacefully. They simply refused to sleep anywhere except on their parents.

Lukas sat against the headboard without a shirt, one protective arm wrapped around Anne as she slept sprawled across his bare chest. Her cheek rested directly over his heart, her tiny lips parted while her breaths warmed his skin.

You were beside him with Ben tucked against your chest, nursing lazily despite having fallen asleep several minutes earlier.

Every time you attempted to detach him, his little face scrunched and his fingers tightened against you as though he could sense that you were trying to move him “They’re spoiled,” you whispered.

Lukas looked down at Anne, whose entire body seemed to relax further whenever he gently moved his hand along her back “They’re newborns,” he corrected softly. “They can’t be spoiled.”

“You say that because Anne has decided you’re her personal mattress.”

“She has good taste.” You rolled your eyes, though the smile pulling at your lips gave you away.

Lukas had been completely devoted to the twins from the moment they were born. During your pregnancy, he had worried constantly about whether he would know what to do. He had read books, watched videos and asked his parents so many questions that his mother eventually told him he needed to trust his instincts.

The moment the twins arrived, those instincts seemed to take over.

He changed diapers without being asked, paced the halls at night with one baby tucked securely against his chest and always made sure you had eaten before worrying about himself. He refilled your water bottle whenever you breastfed and kept snacks beside the bed because he had read that nursing made you hungry.

He cared for Ben and Anne with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

But there was something particularly special about the way Lukas treated his daughter. Anne barely needed to make a sound before he was checking on her. He could identify her cry instantly, even when you still needed a few seconds to determine which twin was fussing.

He insisted she slept better against him because she liked hearing his heartbeat.

The fact that she apparently required him to be shirtless was something Lukas was far too proud of “She won’t stay asleep if I put a shirt on,” he explained seriously.

“You’ve tested that theory once.”

“And she woke up.”

“She woke up because you hit the bassinet with your knee.”

“That is not relevant.”

You quietly laughed, careful not to disturb Ben. “You just like having an excuse to walk around without a shirt.”

Lukas glanced at you with a knowing smile “You like sleeping on my bare chest too.”

Heat immediately rose into your cheeks. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m your girlfriend.”

“And she’s my daughter.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out, Lukas smiled triumphantly. “Exactly.”

“There was absolutely no logic in anything you just said.”

“There was enough.”

Ben suddenly shifted against you, making a soft, unhappy sound when you adjusted your position. His face scrunched, and before he could begin crying, you settled him comfortably against your breast again.

He immediately relaxed. From beside you, Lukas sighed dramatically, you glanced at him “What?”

“He gets you all to himself.”

“He’s eating.”

“He’s been asleep for ten minutes.”

“He likes the comfort.”

Lukas narrowed his eyes playfully at his son. “Those were mine first.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. Then a laugh escaped you before you could stop it, Anne stirred against Lukas’ chest, her tiny eyebrows pulling together as though deeply offended by the noise. Lukas immediately supported the back of her head, whispering soothingly in German until she settled again.

“You’re jealous of your newborn son,” you accused, struggling to keep your voice quiet through your laughter.

“I’m not jealous.”

“You just claimed ownership over my boobs.”

“They were my favorite pillows before he arrived.”

“Lukas!”

“What?” he whispered innocently. “It’s true.” Ben released you long enough to make a disgruntled little noise before latching again, Lukas stared down at him “He knows.”

“He’s three weeks old.”

“He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Stop competing with your son.”

“I’m not competing. I’m just reminding him that he has to share.” As though offended by the suggestion, Ben’s hand opened against your chest and his fingers curled into your skin.

Lukas pointed at him. “See?” Before you could answer, Anne began to stir. Her mouth moved against Lukas’ chest, and she released a small whimper as she lifted her head. Lukas immediately sat straighter “She’s hungry.”

“I know.”

You carefully adjusted Ben before reaching toward your daughter. Lukas passed Anne into your arms, but the moment he moved her away from his chest, Ben began fussing.

His tiny cry grew louder as Anne settled against your other side “He doesn’t like when I hold her,” Lukas whispered.

“He doesn’t like when anyone else gets attention.”

Ben continued to whimper while you tried to position both babies. Anne rooted impatiently, turning her head against you, while her brother seemed more interested in protesting than eating.

Lukas watched you for a moment before moving closer “Tell me what you need.”

“The nursing pillow.” He grabbed it immediately, carefully placing it around your waist. He helped you support Anne before gently adjusting Ben’s body so both babies could lie comfortably across you.

The second they were settled and nursing together, the room became quiet again. Ben’s little hand remained pressed against you as though claiming his place, while Anne’s fingers curled loosely beside her cheek.

You released a tired breath and leaned back against the pillows, when you looked toward Lukas, he was staring at you. Not casually, he was watching you with such open admiration that you suddenly became self-conscious “What?” you asked.

He shook his head slowly. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

You glanced down at yourself. Your hair was tied into a messy knot, your shirt was bunched beneath the nursing pillow and there were probably dark circles beneath your eyes from weeks without proper sleep “I look terrible.”

Lukas’ expression immediately changed “No, you don’t.”

“I haven’t showered today.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m covered in milk.”

“I still don’t care.”

His gaze moved toward the twins, his expression softening as he watched them nurse“You’re feeding both of our babies at the same time,” he murmured. “How could I not look at you?”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly “It’s not exactly glamorous.”

“To me, it is.”

You gave him a doubtful look, Lukas shifted closer, resting one hand gently on your thigh “I mean it,” he said. “You carried them. You gave birth to them. Now they calm down just because they can hear your voice or feel you holding them.”

“They calm down with you too.”

“Anne does.”

At the sound of her name, Lukas’ eyes moved immediately toward his daughter. Anne was already beginning to fall asleep again, her sucking slowing while her body became heavier in your arms. Ben, however, remained determined “He’s going to stay there all night,” Lukas muttered.

“He’s hungry.”

“He’s always hungry.”

“He’s growing.”

“He’s possessive.”

You laughed quietly, Lukas leaned forward and brushed one finger over Ben’s soft cheek, he stopped nursing for half a second and frowned “He doesn’t like me interrupting,” Lukas observed.

“He’s jealous.”

“Of me?”

“Of Anne.”

Lukas looked unconvinced until Anne finished nursing and he carefully lifted her from your arms. The moment she was settled against his bare chest again, Ben released you and began crying.

Both you and Lukas froze “You see?” you whispered.

Lukas looked down at his son, then at Anne “Ben,” he said seriously, “she’s my baby too.” Ben cried louder, Anne responded with a startled whimper “Oh no.” Lukas immediately began rubbing his daughter’s back. “Don’t wake up, Prinzessin.”

“You have to take Ben too.”

“I only have one chest.”

“You have two arms.”

Carefully, Lukas shifted Anne to one side and reached for Ben with the other. You placed the little boy against his free shoulder, but Ben continued to fuss while staring in your direction “He wants you,” Lukas said.

“He wants to make sure you’re not replacing him with Anne.”

“I would never replace him.” Lukas lowered his face and kissed the top of Ben’s head “You hear that? Papa loves you too.”

Ben’s cries slowly softened, although he continued making small unhappy noises whenever Lukas kissed Anne “This is ridiculous,” Lukas whispered affectionately.

“He gets it from you.”

Lukas looked at you. “What does that mean?”

“You were jealous because he was breastfeeding.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Lukas opened his mouth, clearly searching for an explanation,ou raised your eyebrows “He stole my spot,” he finally said.

“You’re both impossible.” Despite the protest, your entire expression softened as you watched him.

Lukas sat shirtless against the headboard with one newborn tucked into each arm. Anne was spread across his chest, perfectly peaceful again, while Ben remained against his shoulder, one tiny fist gripping the chain around Lukas’ neck.

Lukas looked exhausted.

His hair was messy, his eyes were heavy and there was a small milk stain on his shoulder from where Ben had spit up earlier. You had never found him more attractive “You’re staring now,” he said.

“I know.”

“Why?”

You smiled. “Because you’re a good dad.”

His teasing expression disappeared, Lukas looked down at the babies before swallowing softly “I’m trying.”

“You don’t have to try very hard.”

“I do.” He glanced at you again. “You make everything look easy.” you laughed under your breath. “Nothing about this is easy.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “That’s why I admire you.”

Your eyes burned with sudden tears, Lukas noticed immediately “No baby, please don't cry.”

“I’m hormonal.”

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to disagree.”

“You cried yesterday because my mom brought you bread.”

“It was good bread.”

“It was very good bread,” he agreed.

He carefully leaned toward you, still balancing both twins, and kissed you “You’re amazing,” he whispered. “Even when you’re tired. Even when you think you look terrible. Even when Ben steals you from me all day.”

You laughed through the tears. “You almost made that romantic.”

“It was romantic.”

“Until you mentioned being jealous of the baby.”

“I can be romantic and jealous.”

Anne stirred against his chest and tucked her face closer to him. Ben followed a second later, his body finally relaxing as Lukas continued gently rubbing both of their backs.

The room became quiet once more “You should put them in the cribs” you whispered.

Lukas looked toward the two empty beds “We could try.” Neither of you moved, Anne released a content little sigh and Ben tightened his grip on Lukas’ necklace “They look comfortable,” Lukas said.

“They always look comfortable on you.”

“So do you.”

He shifted slightly and stretched one arm toward you “Come here.”

“You already have both babies.”

“There’s still room.”

You carefully moved closer until your head rested against his shoulder, beside Ben. Lukas pressed a kiss into your hair while keeping both twins securely against his bare chest “There,” he murmured contentedly. “All my favorite people.”

“You won’t be saying that when your arms go numb.”

“They’re already numb.”

“Lukas.”

“But I’m not moving.” You smiled, closing your eyes as you listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath Anne’s cheek.

The cribs would remain empty for another night.

Ben would wake soon and demand to nurse again. Anne would refuse to settle unless her skin touched her father’s chest, and Lukas would continue pretending that he wasn’t secretly delighted by it. But with all four of you pressed together beneath the warm German summer air, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You hadn’t thought much of the video when you first saw it. In fact, you hadn’t even realized someone had been recording.

It had happened after one of JJ’s practices, during a small fan event the team had organized. A crowd had gathered along the barriers outside the rink, jerseys and hats held out eagerly as the players made their way down the line, signing whatever they could before heading home.

You had stayed a few steps behind with Lilly balanced on your hip.

At two and a half years old, your daughter had already decided that these events were extremely serious business.

She watched her father closely, her little blue eyes following every movement of the marker in his hand as he signed jerseys, hockey cards, caps, and even someone’s phone case.

Every few seconds, she waved at the fans as though they had come specifically to see her “Hi!” Lilly called brightly, lifting her mitten-covered hand.

A few people immediately waved back, you smiled, adjusting the tiny Peterka jersey beneath her winter coat “Are you helping Daddy?” you asked.

Lilly nodded with complete seriousness “Daddy sign.”

“Yes, Daddy’s signing.”

JJ continued down the line, smiling and talking with fans as he went. He was trying to move quickly without making anyone feel rushed, leaning over the barrier whenever a younger kid struggled to reach him.

Lilly watched proudly until JJ accidentally skipped someone.

A young girl, probably around ten or eleven, had been standing slightly behind two adults. She held a jersey against the barrier, but when the line shifted, JJ moved past her without noticing.

The girl’s expression fell, you noticed it at almost the same moment Lilly did. Before you could say anything, Lilly began wriggling in your arms “Down, Mama.”

“Lilly—”

“Down!” You lowered her carefully, keeping one hand on the back of her coat while she hurried the few steps toward JJ.

He was already signing something for the next person when Lilly reached him. She grabbed the bottom of his sweater and tugged.

JJ looked down immediately “Hey, Liebling,” he said, bending slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Lilly pointed back toward the girl “You missed her.” JJ glanced in the direction of her tiny finger “What?”

Lilly tugged his sweater again, more insistently this time “You missed the girl, Daddy.”

Her little brows were pulled together, clearly concerned that he wasn’t understanding the urgency of the situation. The people nearby began smiling, JJ followed her gaze and finally spotted the girl holding the unsigned jersey.

“Oh.” His expression immediately softened. “I’m sorry.” He stepped back down the line, crouching slightly so he was closer to the girl’s height “I didn’t see you there,” he apologized. “Do you still want me to sign it?”

The girl nodded quickly, her disappointment disappearing as JJ took the jersey “Where should I sign?”

“Anywhere.”

JJ smiled and signed across one of the numbers before handing it back “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

JJ glanced down at Lilly, who was still standing beside him with one hand holding onto his sweater “Did I fix it?” he asked.

Lilly inspected the jersey as though she personally needed to approve the signature. Then she nodded “Good job, Daddy.”

The crowd around them burst into laughter, JJ pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh as he picked Lilly up “Thank you,” he told her. “I’m glad you’re here to supervise me.”

Lilly wrapped one arm around his neck “You have to sign everybody.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No missing.”

“No missing,” JJ agreed solemnly.

You shook your head, smiling as he continued signing with Lilly perched against his side. For the rest of the line, she paid close attention, every time JJ signed something, Lilly nodded approvingly.

Whenever someone stepped forward, she pointed at them to ensure he had noticed, at one point, JJ jokingly asked, “Am I allowed to go home yet?”

Lilly looked down the remaining line “No.” The fans laughed again, JJ sighed dramatically “Okay. Boss says no.”

You had assumed that would be the end of it. A sweet moment during an ordinary fan event.

Nothing more.

The following morning, you woke up to your phone vibrating repeatedly on the nightstand. At first, you ignored it.

Lilly had woken during the night after losing her favorite stuffed rabbit beneath the crib, and you had spent nearly twenty minutes searching for it while JJ tried to convince her that a stuffed bear could temporarily perform the same duties.

It could not. According to Lilly, only Bunny knew how to sleep properly.

So when your phone continued buzzing shortly after seven, you buried your face deeper into the pillow, beside you, JJ groaned “Your phone.”

“I know.”

“It’s been going for five minutes.”

“You check it.”

“It’s your phone.”

You reached blindly toward the nightstand and grabbed it, there were dozens of notifications. Messages from friends, tags on Instagram and even a text from JJ’s mother,

you blinked at the screen “What happened?”

JJ opened one eye “What?”

“I have thirty-seven messages.”

“Did someone get traded?”

You turned toward him “Why is that always your first assumption?”

“Because people usually text a lot when someone gets traded.”

You opened the message from one of your friends.

Your daughter is famous.

Below it was a link to a TikTok, you sat up “JJ.”

His eyes closed again “Hmm?”

“Why is Lilly famous?”

That got his attention, JJ sat up beside you, his hair sticking up in several directions “What do you mean?”

You opened the video.

It had been posted by someone who had attended the fan event the previous afternoon.

The beginning showed JJ moving along the line signing autographs. Then the camera shifted slightly, capturing Lilly hurrying toward him and pulling on his sweater.

The text across the screen read

When his two-year-old daughter noticed he accidentally missed a fan before he did.

The audio had picked up everything.

“You missed her.”

“You missed the girl, Daddy.”

And finally “Good job, Daddy.”

The video ended with JJ carrying Lilly while she carefully monitored the rest of the line, you glanced at the view count.

Then you looked again.

“750.000?”

JJ leaned closer “What?”

“This has seven hundred and fifty thousand .”

“Already?”

“It was posted last night.” You scrolled through the comments.

She said absolutely no fan left behind.

The tiny sweater tug because this was an emergency.

‘Good job, Daddy’—she trained him well.

JJ Peterka’s toughest coach is apparently two feet tall.

The way she immediately noticed the girl looked sad. What a sweet kid.

She was not letting her dad continue until he fixed his mistake.

Another comment had more than one hundred thousand likes.

Protect Lilly Peterka at all costs.

JJ took your phone, staring at the screen “She went viral?”

“Apparently.”

“For telling me I missed someone?”

“She was very authoritative.”

JJ replayed the video, Lilly’s tiny voice filled the bedroom again.“No missing.” A smile slowly appeared on his face “She’s cute.”

“She’s bossy.”

“She gets that from you.”

You stared at him, JJ immediately corrected himself “She gets her kindness from you.”

“That was a very fast recovery.”

“I’m good under pressure.”

“You’re really not.”

Before JJ could respond, the bedroom door creaked open, Lilly appeared in the doorway wearing mismatched pajamas, Bunny tucked beneath one arm. Her hair was tangled around her face “Mommy?”

“Good morning, baby.”

She shuffled into the room, JJ set your phone aside and held out his arms “Come here, famous girl.” Lilly climbed onto the bed, crawling directly into the space between you, you kissed the top of her head “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, pressing Bunny against JJ’s chest “Bunny sleep good too.”

“I’m glad,” JJ said.

Lilly looked at the phone in his hand “What watching?”

“You,” JJ answered.

Her face brightened “Me?”

He played the video again, Lilly watched silently as the small version of herself ran toward her father on the screen. When the video ended, she pointed at the phone “Daddy missed her.”

“I know,” JJ said. “Everyone knows now.”

Lilly’s brows furrowed “Why?”

“Because someone put the video online.”

She stared at him, clearly unimpressed by the explanation “You missed her,” she repeated. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing, JJ nodded seriously “Yes, I did.”

“I told you.”

“You did.”

“And then you signed.”

“I did.”

Lilly smiled proudly “Good job.”

You laughed, leaning your head against JJ’s shoulder “I don’t think she understands that she’s gone viral.”

“She doesn’t even understand what viral means,” JJ said.

Lilly looked between you “I’m viral?”

“No baby ” you told her gently. “You’re Lilly.”

She accepted that answer immediately “I’m Lilly.”

“Yes, you are.”

By the time JJ arrived at the rink later that morning, the video had reached nearly a million and a half of views. You knew because he texted you from the locker room.

They won’t leave me alone.

A second message arrived moments later.

Someone printed a picture of Lilly pointing at me and put it above my stall.

You laughed and replied.

Good. You need supervision.

JJ sent back a photo, someone had taped a screenshot from the video to the wall. Beneath it, in large capital letters, was written:

NO MISSING.

Later, one of his teammates posted a short clip of JJ walking into the locker room while several players shouted, “Good job, Daddy!” JJ tried to ignore them, but the red creeping across his cheeks gave him away. When he returned home that afternoon, Lilly ran toward him the moment the door opened.

“Daddy!”

JJ barely had time to drop his bag before she wrapped herself around his legs “Hi, Liebling.” He lifted her into his arms and kissed her cheek “How was your day?”

“I colored.”

“What did you color?”

“A dog.”

“Was it good?”

Lilly nodded “Good job, Lilly?”

“Good job, Lilly,” JJ confirmed.

You appeared from the kitchen, smiling when you saw them “How was practice?”

JJ narrowed his eyes “Terrible.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

You leaned against the doorway “Did everyone remind you not to miss anyone?”

“Repeatedly.”

Lilly looked at him “No missing, Daddy.”

JJ closed his eyes briefly “You too?”

She patted his cheek “Everybody.” You burst out laughing, JJ looked at you over her shoulder “This is your fault.”

“How is this my fault?”

“You encouraged her.”

“I didn’t teach her to notice when someone was left out.”

His expression softened “No,” he admitted. “You did teach her that.”

You walked toward them and smoothed Lilly’s hair away from her forehead “She noticed that the girl was sad.”

“I know.” There was something warm in JJ’s voice as he looked at your daughter. He had watched the video more times than he would ever admit, not because millions of strangers had seen it, not because fans were calling Lilly adorable or joking that she was already managing his career.

He loved it because she had noticed.

In the middle of the noise, the crowd, and the excitement, Lilly had seen one person being overlooked and she hadn’t hesitated to do something about it.

JJ kissed her temple “You’re a good girl, you know that?”

Lilly nodded confidently “I help.”

“You did help.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, Bunny squished between them. After a moment, she lifted her head again “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Next time, sign everybody.”

You covered your mouth, already laughing, JJ looked toward the ceiling as though searching for patience “Yes, boss.”

Family Day was supposed to be easy, at least, that was what Arber had promised you when he convinced you to bring Arlo to the arena.

“It’ll be fun,” he had said that morning while helping your three-year-old pull a tiny Canadiens jersey over his head. “He’ll skate for ten minutes, eat all the snacks, and then fall asleep in the car.”

Arlo had immediately corrected him. “I skate lots of minutes.” Arber had nodded solemnly. “Of course buddy, my mistake.”

Now, standing near the bench while Arlo clutched a miniature hockey stick nearly as tall as he was, you had to admit Arber had been right.

Arlo was having the best day of his life.

He had already attempted to follow Nick onto the ice, demanded that Cole tie one of his skates, and informed several players that his daddy was “the strongest Hab ever.”

Arber had spent most of the morning watching him with a smile he couldn’t hide.

He was softer around Arlo. Everyone knew it.

The same man who could flatten someone against the boards without hesitation melted whenever his son reached for him. Arber carried him through the arena, fixed his helmet straps, wiped crumbs from his cheeks, and listened patiently every time Arlo repeated the same story.

You were standing beside Arber when one of the media members approached, Arlo was tucked securely against his father’s chest, one arm around Arber’s neck while the other held a small blue puck someone had given him.

“Can we ask him a question?” the reporter asked.

Arber glanced at you first, you gave a small nod “As long as he wants to answer,” Arber said.

The reporter crouched slightly so the microphone was closer to Arlo, “What has been your favorite part of Family Day?”

Arlo looked thoughtful “Cookies.” A few people nearby laughed “And skating,” Arlo quickly added, as though remembering the correct answer. “And Daddy.”

Arber kissed the side of his head.

The reporter smiled. “Your dad is known for being pretty aggressive on the ice.”

Arber’s expression changed slightly, it wasn’t enough for Arlo to notice, but you did.

The reporter continued before either of you could interrupt “When you watch him fight or hit other players, are you ever scared of your dad?”

The air around you seemed to still, your stomach tightened immediately, Arber’s arm shifted around Arlo, pulling him closer against his chest “That’s not an appropriate question to ask a three-year-old,” Arber said.

His voice wasn’t loud, it didn’t need to be.

The reporter’s smile disappeared “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Arber replied firmly. “But he’s three.”

Arlo looked between them, confused by the sudden tension, then he frowned “I’m not scared of Daddy.”

Arber looked down at him, Arlo’s little eyebrows were pulled together, deeply offended by the suggestion “Daddy doesn’t fight me,” he explained.

A couple of players standing nearby tried not to laugh, Arlo placed his tiny hand against Arber’s cheek “Daddy hugs me.” Arber’s expression softened instantly “And he makes pancakes,” Arlo continued. “And he checks my closet for monsters.”

Your heart squeezed.

Arber pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to get emotional in front of the cameras. Arlo looked back at the reporter “Daddy is nice.”

“I know, buddy,” Arber murmured “No,” Arlo insisted, turning back toward him. “You’re my nice Daddy.”

That broke him, Arber buried his face briefly against Arlo’s hair before kissing his temple “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’m your nice Daddy.”

The reporter attempted an apology, but Arber had already turned away.

He carried Arlo toward you, placing a protective hand against the back of his head as soon as you reached them “You okay?” you asked softly.

Arber nodded, although his jaw was still tight “I don’t want him hearing things like that,” he said. “He shouldn’t have to think about whether people see me as someone scary.”

You touched his arm “He doesn’t see you that way.”

Arber looked at Arlo, who was now attempting to fit the blue puck inside the pocket of his jersey “I know.”

“He sees the person who cuts the crust off his sandwiches.”

Arber smiled faintly.

“And checks the closet,” you added.

“That’s serious work.”

Arlo suddenly looked up “Daddy?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“I want cookies again.”

Arber sighed dramatically “You already had two.”

Arlo held up three fingers “I had this many.”

“That is not helping your argument.”

Arlo leaned closer and whispered something into Arber’s ear, Arber stared at him for a moment before looking at you “He said he won’t tell you.”

You crossed your arms. “Won’t tell me what?”

Arlo gasped and covered Arber’s mouth with both hands “You said secret!” Arber laughed, the remaining tension finally disappearing from his shoulders “Sorry, buddy.”

He adjusted Arlo higher against his chest and started walking toward the family lounge. You followed beside them “Are you seriously getting him another cookie?” you asked.

Arber looked at you innocently “No.” Arlo looked over his shoulder “Daddy said yes.”

Arber closed his eyes “You’re terrible at secrets.”

Arlo giggled, resting his head against his father’s shoulder. A few minutes later, he was happily eating another cookie while sitting in Arber’s lap.

And when someone from the media team approached to apologize again, Arber accepted it—but made the boundary clear.

Questions about hockey were fine, questions about Arlo’s favorite players, snacks, or what he thought his dad did at work were fine but Arlo would never be used to create a dramatic answer about Arber’s reputation on the ice.

Because to everyone else, Arber might be aggressive, he might be intimidating, he might be the player opponents watched carefully whenever he stepped onto the ice.

But to Arlo, he was simply Daddy.

The man who made pancakes shaped like dinosaurs, the man who carried him to bed when he fell asleep on the couch, the man who checked every corner of his bedroom for monsters.

And when Arlo curled against his chest later that afternoon, completely exhausted from Family Day, Arber looked down at him with nothing but tenderness “Not scared of me, huh?” he whispered.

Arlo’s eyes remained closed “No,” he mumbled sleepily, Arber brushed his curls away from his forehead “Good.” Arlo tightened his small hand around the front of Arber’s shirt “You scare monsters.”

You had edited the video three separate times, at least, you were almost certain you had.

The first edit had been done late at night after Leo had finally fallen asleep, your laptop balanced precariously against your knees while Oliver slept beside you. The second had happened the following morning, squeezed between making breakfast and convincing Leo that he couldn’t wear his dinosaur pajamas to preschool again.

The third was completed from the passenger seat of your car while Oliver drove, one hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he listened to you complain about how much footage you had somehow collected during one completely ordinary day. “You could always stop recording everything,” Oliver had suggested.

You had turned the camera toward him, although only his hand and the sleeve of his sweater were visible “And deprive people of my extremely exciting grocery shopping content?”

“I think they would survive.”

“You don’t know that.”

Oliver had laughed quietly, squeezing your thigh before returning his hand to the steering wheel, that small moment never made it into the final vlog, or at least, it wasn’t supposed to.

Your online presence had grown slowly over the years. It had started with skincare videos and outfit posts while you were in university, long before Oliver became anything more than the handsome hockey player you occasionally saw through mutual friends.

By the time you were twenty-two, you had built a comfortable audience.

Then you met Oliver properly.

He was thirty, established in his career and far more recognizable than you had realized during that first conversation. You had spent nearly an hour talking to him before finally asking why so many people kept glancing toward your table.

Oliver had smiled, looking almost embarrassed “I play hockey.”

You had stared at him “Professionally?”

“Yes.”

“Like…people watch you?”

“Sometimes.” You had later discovered that “sometimes” meant thousands of people in arenas and many more watching from home.

The relationship developed quickly but privately. Neither of you had planned for that privacy to last forever, but when people began speculating after you were photographed leaving the same restaurant, the comments had been brutal.

You were too young, you wanted his money, he was going through a midlife crisis, you were using him for attention, despite never mentioning him publicly.

Then, only a few months after you officially became a couple, you found out you were pregnant.

Suddenly, keeping the relationship private became less about protecting yourselves and entirely about protecting Leo.

Your pregnancy disappeared beneath oversized sweaters and carefully angled videos. When you temporarily stepped away from posting, you told your followers that you needed time to handle personal changes.

You never shared the hospital photos, you never posted Leo’s tiny fingers wrapped around yours, you never showed the first time Oliver held his son and cried so quietly that he thought you hadn’t noticed.

For five years, you had managed to keep Leo almost completely out of the public eye.

There were occasionally signs of him.

A small shoe forgotten near the entrance, a child’s drawing stuck to the refrigerator, a dinosaur toy barely visible beneath the couch. Your followers assumed you had nieces or nephews who visited frequently.

You let them.

The vlog that changed everything began innocently “Good morning, everyone,” you whispered into the camera, standing in your kitchen while the sun barely rose outside. “It is six-thirty, which is an offensive hour to be awake, but apparently some people in this house have places to be.”

A small voice called from somewhere behind you “Mamma!”

You had immediately paused the recording, Leo had appeared in the doorway, blond hair disheveled and his favorite stuffed bear tucked underneath his arm, you crouched in front of him “Baby, I told you Mamma was filming.”

“I forgot.”

“That’s okay.” You kissed his forehead. “Do you want breakfast?”

He nodded sleepily, you stopped recording entirely while preparing his food, only resuming once Oliver had taken Leo upstairs to get dressed.

The vlog continued normally.

You filmed your morning skincare routine, your trip to a café, a brief shopping appointment and part of your workout. You showed yourself answering emails and organizing products for an upcoming collaboration.

When you arrived home that afternoon, you placed the camera on the kitchen counter “I just got back, and I’m going to start dinner before—”

The front door opened somewhere down the hall, you glanced toward the sound, smiling automatically “You’re home early.”

“Practice finished earlier than expected.”

Oliver’s voice was clear, very clear. You turned back toward the camera, momentarily forgetting it was recording as Oliver entered the kitchen.

He was wearing a dark team hoodie and sweatpants, his hair still slightly damp from his post-practice shower, he walked directly toward you “Hi.”

“Hi.”

His hand settled against your waist before he leaned down and kissed you, it wasn’t dramatic or inappropriate. It was the kind of absentminded kiss that came from five years of familiarity—a quiet greeting shared between two people who had done it thousands of times before.

You rested your hand against his chest “How was practice?”

“Fine.” Oliver glanced around the room. “Where is Leo?”

“My parents are bringing him back in about an hour.” He nodded before kissing your forehead “I missed you.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“That was a long time ago.”

You laughed, pushing lightly against his chest “You’re dramatic.”

“You like me.”

“Sometimes.”

Oliver smiled before noticing the camera positioned on the counter “Are you recording?”

Your eyes widened, the clip ended abruptly, you had intended to delete it, instead, while editing through dozens of small clips, you trimmed the beginning and end but somehow left eleven crucial seconds in the middle of the vlog.

Eleven seconds of Oliver entering your kitchen, eleven seconds of his hand around your waist, eleven seconds of him kissing you and asking where Leo was.

The video was live for twenty-three minutes before you received the first commentary.

IS THAT OLIVER EKMAN-LARSSON???

You stared at it from your place on the couch, Oliver sat beside you, reading a Swedish picture book with Leo curled underneath his arm.

You frowned at your phone, another notification appeared, then another and another.

Your stomach dropped “No.”

Oliver looked up immediately “What?”

“No, no, no.” You opened the vlog and dragged the progress bar toward the final few minutes, there it was, Oliver walking into the kitchen, the kiss, Leo’s name. Your face went cold “Oh my God.”

Oliver closed the book “What happened?” You couldn’t answer him immediately, Leo looked between the two of you “Mamma?”

“It’s okay, älskling,” Oliver reassured him, although his eyes remained fixed on you. “Mamma just made a mistake.”

You held your phone toward him “I left it in.”

He watched the clip silently, you waited for panic to appear across his face, but Oliver rarely panicked visibly. His expression merely became more serious as he watched it for a second time “How long has it been posted?”

“Twenty-three minutes.”

“Take it down.” You immediately made the video private, it was already too late.

Screen recordings were circulating before you could even refresh your page. Accounts were slowing down the footage, comparing Oliver’s hoodie to photos from practice and identifying the watch on his wrist.

Someone had already posted in twitter: OEL HAS A SECRET GIRLFRIEND AND A CHILD???

Your hands began trembling “They know about Leo.”

“They know his name,” Oliver corrected calmly. “That is all.”

“They’re going to find more.”

“We won’t let them.”

“You don’t know that.”

Oliver looked down at Leo, who was still watching both of you with wide, confused eyes, he gently moved the little boy from his lap “Leo, why don’t you go choose another book for us?”

“Can I get the dinosaur one?”

“Yes.”

Leo climbed down and hurried toward his bedroom, the moment he disappeared down the hall, Oliver moved closer to you “Look at me.”

You shook your head, staring at the rapidly increasing number of notifications “People are already talking about our ages again. Someone found that picture from when we first started dating, and they’re saying you—”

Oliver carefully took the phone from your hand and placed it facedown on the coffee table “Look at me.” you finally did “We knew this might happen one day,” he said.

“Not like this.”

“No,” Oliver agreed. “Not like this.”

“I was supposed to protect him.”

“You have protected him.”

“I just showed everyone that he exists.”

“You didn’t show his face, you didn’t give them his school or his birthday or anything that belongs to him.” Oliver cupped your cheek. “You made a mistake in an edited video baby, that does not make you a bad mother.”

Your eyes burned “What if photographers start following us?”

“Then we handle it.”

“What if people say things about him?”

“Then they answer to us.”

You released an unsteady breath, Oliver’s thumb moved beneath your eye, catching the first tear before it could fall “I should’ve checked it again.”

“You checked it three times.”

“Apparently not properly.”

“You were editing while raising a five-year-old and working.” His voice softened. “You are allowed to make mistakes.”

“I know you wanted to keep him private.”

“So did you.”

“But this was my fault.”

Oliver’s expression tightened “We are not doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Making you carry this by yourself because the video was posted on your account.” He leaned closer. “Leo is ours, this is our family, whatever happens next, we deal with it together.”

You swallowed hard “We might have to say something.”

“Yes.”

The certainty in his answer surprised you “You want to confirm it?”

“I don’t want strangers inventing a story about you or our son.” Oliver reached for his phone “We confirm that we’re together, we say we have a child and that we expect his privacy to be respected. Nothing more.”

“What about the age gap?”

“What about it?”

You gave him a pointed look “You know what people are going to say.”

“I was thirty and you were twenty-two. We met as adults, you had your own career and I didn’t force you into anything.” His mouth pulled into a faint, humorless smile. “You actually rejected me twice.”

“I did not reject you.”

“You said you were busy.”

“I was busy.”

“For three weeks?” You almost smiled despite yourself, Oliver brushed his nose lightly against yours “People can have opinions. They don’t know us.”

“But they’ll act like they do.”

“They have done that before, and we survived.” a small figure appeared at the end of the hallway, clutching a brightly colored book “Are you sad, Mamma?”

You quickly wiped your cheeks “A little.” Leo approached the couch, climbing between you and Oliver without asking. He settled against your side, holding the book against his chest “Why?”

You exchanged a look with Oliver.

Neither of you had ever lied to Leo about Oliver’s career or why you occasionally needed to be careful when you were out together “Mamma accidentally posted a video with Pappa in it,” you explained gently.

Leo frowned “Pappa is in lots of videos.”

“Our videos,” Oliver said. “Not Mamma’s work videos.”

“Oh.”

“And some people saw it,” you added, Leo thought about that for a moment “Did they like Pappa?” a startled laugh escaped you, Oliver’s expression softened “I don’t know,” you admitted, Leo looked up at his father “I like Pappa.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said seriously.

“And Mamma likes Pappa.”

Oliver glanced at you “Mamma likes me sometimes.”

“Pappa,” you warned, Leo giggled, the sound loosened something tight inside your chest, Oliver wrapped one arm around Leo and extended the other around you, drawing you both into him.

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, your phone continued vibrating against the table, but you ignored it. Eventually, Oliver’s management called, then his team’s communications department, then your own manager.

The three separate conversations resulted in the same recommendation: acknowledge the relationship before speculation became more invasive, but clearly establish that Leo remained private.

You and Oliver drafted the statement together after putting Leo to bed.

You rewrote it four times, Oliver deleted an entire paragraph in which you tried to apologize “You are not apologizing for loving me,” he said.

“I was apologizing for the accidental reveal.”

“It sounds like you’re apologizing for our family.” You reread the paragraph and reluctantly admitted that he was right, in the end, you chose a photograph taken during the previous summer.

Your back was to the camera as you stood near the edge of a lake. Oliver was beside you, his arm around your waist while Leo sat on his shoulders.

None of your faces were visible.

It was the closest your followers had ever come to seeing the complete shape of your life, you posted it with a short statement:

For several years, I have chosen to keep an important part of my personal life offline. Today, a clip was accidentally included in a vlog that revealed my relationship with Oliver and referenced our son.

Oliver and I have been together for five years, and we share a wonderful little boy. Our decision to remain private was never because we were ashamed of our relationship or our family. It was made to give our son the safest and most normal childhood possible.

We understand that people may be curious, but he is a child who did not choose public attention. We kindly ask that his name, image and personal information not be searched for or shared.

We are happy, we are safe and we are very loved. That is all we plan to share.

Oliver posted the same picture, his caption was shorter.

My family. My whole world. Please respect our son’s privacy.

For several minutes, you couldn’t bring yourself to read the responses.

Oliver sat beside you in bed, his shoulder pressed against yours “You don’t have to look.”

“I feel like I should.”

“No.”

“What if they’re horrible?”

“Then you definitely shouldn’t look.” you hesitated before opening the comments, the first one made your eyes sting.

The fact that they kept their child private for five years in the age of social media is honestly impressive. Leave that baby alone.

Another read:

He walked into that kitchen like a man who has done it every day for years. That wasn’t a scandal. That was a husband coming home.

You glanced at Oliver “People think you’re my husband.”

“I could fix that.”

You blinked “What?”

Oliver’s expression remained maddeningly neutral “I said I could fix that.”

“You cannot casually bring up marriage while we’re dealing with a public-relations disaster.”

“Why not?”

“Because that is insane.”

“I’ve been planning to ask you for months.” your mouth fell open, Oliver finally smiled “But not tonight.”

“You can’t say that and then expect me to continue reading comments.”

“Then stop reading them.” you hit him lightly with a pillow, Oliver laughed, catching it before it could fall from the bed. He placed it behind his head and pulled you against his chest.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No,” you admitted quietly. “I really don’t.”

He kissed the top of your head, the internet remained loud for several days, old photographs resurfaced. People constructed timelines and debated the age difference. A few accounts attempted to find information about Leo, but most fans quickly shut them down and reported anything that crossed the boundary you had established.

You temporarily stopped vlogging, Oliver never pressured you to return.

Instead, he handled the additional attention while ensuring your routines remained as normal as possible. He drove Leo to preschool through a private entrance arranged by the school. He spoke with team security and made certain no one followed you home after games.

Most importantly, he never made you feel responsible for the changes.

Two weeks later, you returned to filming, the camera was positioned on the kitchen counter again “Good morning,” you began. “Today is my first vlog back after accidentally causing complete chaos.”

A laugh sounded from outside the frame, you turned your head“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Oliver replied.

“You laughed.”

“I’m allowed to laugh in my own kitchen.” your followers couldn’t see him but they could only hear his voice, that was intentional, you smiled despite yourself “I’ve received approximately nine million messages asking if Oliver is going to appear in the vlogs now. The answer is no.”

“Rude,” Oliver called.

“You said you didn’t want to.”

“I changed my mind.”

You stared toward him, he stepped just close enough for one hand to enter the frame, sliding a mug of coffee toward you. His wedding-ring finger was noticeably bare.

For now.

You wrapped both hands around the mug “Thank you.” Oliver’s hand lingered beside yours “You’re welcome, älskling.”

Before walking away, he leaned toward the camera without fully entering the frame “And Leo will not be appearing either.”

“No,” you agreed. “He won’t.”

“But he says hello.” From somewhere upstairs, Leo shouted at the top of his lungs “HELLO, MAMMA’S VIDEO!”

You closed your eyes while Oliver laughed “So much for keeping him completely out of it.”

“He’s still out of the frame,” Oliver pointed out.

“That is technically true.” You looked directly into the camera, unable to hide your smile “Welcome back to a day in my life.”

Liam had always believed that his father was famous.

Not just hockey famous, either, in Liam’s four-year-old mind, Arber was famous everywhere.

He was famous at the grocery store because people sometimes stopped him beside the cereal aisle. He was famous at the park because older kids whispered his name while he pushed Liam on the swings. He was famous at restaurants because someone occasionally asked for a picture before Arber could sit down.

Most importantly, he was famous at the Bell Centre, where thousands of people wore his number and shouted loudly whenever he stepped onto the ice. So when Liam’s kindergarten teacher asked everyone to share something interesting about their families, the answer seemed obvious “My daddy is famous,” Liam announced proudly.

Several children turned toward him.

His teacher, Madame Claire, smiled from her chair at the front of the carpet “Is he?” she asked. “What is he famous for?”

“He plays hockey.”

A boy sitting beside Liam frowned “My dad plays hockey too.”

Liam shook his head quickly “No, my daddy plays real hockey.”

The little boy’s mouth fell open in offense, Madame Claire hid a smile behind her hand “What team does your dad play for, Liam?”

“The Canadiens.” That earned a few more reactions, one child gasped, another immediately started whispering to the girl beside her but a boy named Félix narrowed his eyes suspiciously “No, he doesn’t.”

Liam blinked “Yes, he does.”

“No, because your name is Liam YLN.”

Madame Claire gently interrupted. “Liam’s full name is Liam YLN-Xhekaj.”

Liam nodded eagerly “See?”

Félix remained unconvinced “But you only write YLN.”

That part was true, Liam’s full last name took up almost the entire line on his worksheets, and the combination of letters had been difficult for him when he first started learning how to write.

After watching him become frustrated one evening, gripping his pencil so tightly that his small fingers turned red, Arber had crouched beside him at the kitchen table “You can write Mommy’s last name for now,” he had said.

Liam had looked at him with watery eyes “But yours too.”

“You know it’s there.” Arber tapped gently over Liam’s heart. “And I know you’re mine. That’s what matters.”

From that moment on, Liam had naturally started calling himself Liam YLN more often.

Arber genuinely did not care, he and YN had been together since they were fourteen years old. They had survived high school, growing up, moving, hockey, and becoming parents at twenty-one.

A shortened name on a kindergarten worksheet could never make Arber question whether Liam was his son.

Anyone who spent more than three minutes with the two of them could see it anyway.

Liam had Arber’s dark eyes, his stubborn expression, and the exact same habit of crossing his arms whenever he believed someone had wronged him.

Which was precisely what he did now “My daddy is Arber,” Liam insisted, Félix shrugged “My brother knows every Canadiens player, and he never said there was a player called Mister YLN.”

“His name is Arber Xhekaj,” Liam said slowly, as though speaking to someone who was not particularly intelligent. “But he’s my daddy, so I call him Daddy.”

A few children giggled, Félix still did not believe him “You’re lying.” Liam’s face fell, Madame Claire intervened before the disagreement could grow “We don’t accuse our friends of lying,” she said firmly. “Families can have different names.”

Liam remained quiet for the rest of the activity, when YN arrived to pick him up that afternoon, she had Luka’s carrier resting against one hip and Mark’s strapped securely against her chest.

At seven months old, the twins had recently decided that naps were optional and grabbing their mother’s hair was their favorite form of entertainment.

Luka was chewing determinedly on the strap of his carrier while Mark slept against YN, one chubby cheek pressed to her chest, usually, Liam ran toward her the moment he saw her. That afternoon, he walked slowly, YN immediately noticed “Hi, baby.”

Liam wrapped his arms around her leg “Hi, Mommy.” She shifted Luka carefully and crouched as much as she could with Mark attached to her “What happened?”

“Nothing.” it was the most unconvincing thing he had ever said, Madame Claire approached them with Liam’s backpack “He had a difficult moment during sharing time,” she explained quietly.

YN glanced down at her son “What happened during sharing time?”

Liam stared at the floor, Madame Claire gave him an encouraging smile “You can tell Mommy" Liam’s bottom lip trembled “Nobody believes Daddy is my daddy.”

YN’s expression softened immediately “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Because I write your name.”

He rubbed at his eye with his fist “They said I was lying.” YN placed Luka’s carrier carefully on the floor before pulling Liam closer with her free arm “You weren’t lying.”

“I know.”

“And Daddy knows you’re his son.”

“I know,” he repeated, although his voice cracked, YN kissed the top of his head, Madame Claire looked apologetic. “I corrected the children and explained that people in the same family can have different last names. But I think it stayed with him.”

Liam pulled back slightly “Can Daddy come tomorrow?” YN blinked “To kindergarten?”

He nodded “So they know.”

Her heart squeezed “I’ll ask him.”

Arber arrived home later that evening to find YN sitting cross-legged on the living-room rug with the twins, Luka was attempting to crawl over her leg while Mark lay on his stomach, angrily slapping both hands against the playmat, Liam was nowhere in sight, Arber dropped his bag beside the door “Where’s my big guy?”

“In his room.”

Arber immediately looked toward the hallway “What happened?”

YN gave him a tired smile “Apparently, nobody at school believes you’re his father.”

Arber stared at her “What?”

“He told his class his dad was famous.”

A grin slowly spread across Arber’s face “He said I’m famous?”

“Do not let that be your only takeaway.”

“I’m trying not to.” YN threw a plush toy at him, Arber caught it easily, she explained what had happened, including the confusion about Liam’s surname and his request for Arber to visit the classroom.

By the end of the story, Arber was no longer smiling “He thinks it’s because he uses your last name?”

YN nodded “He knows you don’t mind, but he thinks the other kids don’t believe him because of it.”

Arber’s jaw tightened “He’s four.”

“I know.”

“He shouldn’t have to prove who his dad is.”

“I know,” she repeated gently.

Arber looked toward Liam’s bedroom “Is he upset with me?”

“No, he’s embarrassed.” That was somehow worse, Arber crossed the room and carefully stepped over Luka before disappearing down the hallway, Liam was sitting on his bed with a Canadiens cap pulled low over his forehead, he was holding one of Arber’s old hockey cards between both hands. Arber leaned against the doorway “Hey.”

Liam looked up “Hi.”

Arber walked inside and sat beside him “I heard you had a rough day.”

Liam studied the hockey card “They think I lied.”

“You didn’t.”

“I told them you play for Montreal.”

“You were right.”

“They said my name isn’t Xhekaj.” Arber took the card gently from his hands and placed it on the blanket “What’s your full name?”

“Liam YLN-Xhekaj.”

“And who’s your dad?”

“You.”

“Exactly.”

Liam leaned against his side “But I only write Mommy’s name.”

“Because my name is annoying to write.”

That earned the smallest smile “It has too many letters daddy”

“I know buddy, trust me, I’ve had it longer than you.”

Liam giggled quietly, Arber wrapped an arm around him “You never have to write my name just to prove you’re my son. You can write Mommy’s name, both names, or draw a dinosaur instead. I don’t care.”

“My teacher won’t let me draw a dinosaur for my name.”

“That sounds like a very unfair rule.”

Liam’s smile grew, Arber pressed a kiss to his hair “I know you’re mine. Mommy knows you’re mine. You know you’re mine. That’s enough.”

Liam was quiet for a moment “Will you still come tomorrow?”

Arber looked down at him “You really want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

The next morning, Arber stood outside Liam’s classroom holding Mark in one arm while YN carried Luka, they had decided that if they were going to prove the entire family existed, they might as well bring everyone.

Arber wore a Canadiens hoodie and a baseball cap, hoping to keep the visit relatively calm, it did not work, the moment Madame Claire opened the door, one of the classroom assistants recognized him, her eyes widened “Oh.”

Arber smiled politely “Morning.” Liam pushed past both of his parents and marched into the classroom “My daddy’s here!”

Every head turned, Félix looked from Liam to Arber, then toward the Canadiens logo on Arber’s hoodie, then back to Liam.

Arber stepped inside, bouncing Mark gently when the baby began grabbing at the strings of his sweatshirt, madame Claire smiled “Class, Liam brought some special visitors today.”

“This is my mommy,” Liam announced, pointing at YN. “That’s Luka. Daddy has Mark.”

Mark chose that moment to grab Arber’s lower lip, Arber carefully removed his tiny hand “And this,” Liam continued dramatically, “is my daddy. Arber Xhekaj.”

The room erupted, several children started talking at once “My brother has your jersey!”

“I saw you fight someone!”

“Do you know Nick Suzuki?”

“Are you really famous?”

Arber glanced at Liam, whose chest had puffed out with pride “I play hockey,” Arber answered. “But Liam is the famous one at our house.”

Liam beamed, Félix slowly raised his hand, madame Claire pointed to him “Yes, Félix?”

He looked directly at Arber “Why doesn’t Liam write Xhekaj?”

Arber crouched beside Liam, still holding Mark securely “Because YLN-Xhekaj is a long name, and he’s still learning. I told him he could use his mom’s name because it’s easier.”

“But you’re still his dad?”

Arber smiled “Always.”

Liam leaned against his shoulder “I told you.” Félix looked embarrassed “Sorry.”

Liam considered this for a moment before nodding “It’s okay.” then, because he was still Arber’s son, he added, “But I was right.”

YN covered her mouth, hiding her laughter, Arber looked far too proud, after answering a few questions about hockey, taking a class picture, and allowing every child to inspect Mark and Luka from a respectful distance, Arber and YN prepared to leave, Liam hugged his mother first and kissed both twins on their foreheads.

Then he wrapped his arms tightly around Arber’s neck “Thank you for coming.”

Arber held him close “Anytime.”

Liam pulled back “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me write Xhekaj tonight?”

Arber’s expression softened “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.”

Arber kissed his cheek “Then we’ll practice together.”

That evening, Liam sat between his parents at the kitchen table, Luka and Mark were nearby in their highchairs, both covered in mashed banana, Arber guided Liam through each letter slowly.

“X.” Liam carefully copied it. “H.” another shaky letter appeared beside the first, by the time he reached the final J, the name was crooked and took up most of the page.

Liam stared proudly at his work.

LIAM YLN-XHEKAJ

“There,” he said. “Now everyone knows.” Arber looked at the paper before looking at his son “I already knew.” Liam smiled and climbed into his lap “I know, Daddy.”

Across the table, YN watched Arber wrap both arms around the little boy they had welcomed when they were only twenty-one.

They had been children themselves when they fell in love at fourteen. They had grown up together, made mistakes together, and learned how to become parents together.

Now they had Liam and the twins, a loud home, very little sleep, and more happiness than either of them had known what to do with.

Mark suddenly slapped both hands into his banana, Luka immediately copied him. Arber looked toward them in horror as banana splattered across the floor.

YN started laughing, Liam held up his worksheet protectively “Don’t get it on my name!”

“Hi Matt” His mum hugged him. “And you must be Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you. Matt was talking about you non stop” 

“It’s nice to meet you too Mrs. Rempe” You smiled. “I brought a cake” 

“How thoughtful. Good thing Alley didn’t make one” His mom joked. “Come inside” 

“I’m telling you, it’s gonna be alright” Matt whispered. 

You followed Matt into the house. It was cosy, just like you imagine from all the stories you heard. The kitchen was busy. His mom and sisters were preparing food for the barbeque. You didn’t know what to do so you just stood next to Matt. 

“Hi” Matt said. 

“Hi” Steph looked up. “Y/N, hi” His sister hugged you. “It’s so nice to meet you” 

“Hi” Alley hugged you. “Matt was talking a lot about you” 

“I’m here too” Matt waved to them but he was ignored. 

“We heard. Help mom with a salad, we have to talk with Y/N” Steph told him and dragged you on the couch. 

You sat with them on each side. You didn’t know what to say so you waited for them to start. They were looking towards the kitchen to see if Matt was listening to them but he was deep in a conversation with his mom. 

“We’re so happy to meet you. You’re way prettier than in the photos that Matt showed up” Alley said. 

“Thank you. You two are gorgeous” You replied with red cheeks. 

“I know it’s awkward for you. I felt the same when I met my husband’s family for the first time” Steph said. “But really, you don’t have to feel embarrassed or anything. We’re happy that you’re dating Matt” 

“Yeah, I haven’t seen him that happy since he told us about his debut game” Alley told you. “We can see that he’s madly in love with you” 

“And I’m madly in love with him. Matt is an incredible guy and I have never met someone so passionate like he is” You said. 

“We know that he might be difficult sometimes so feel free to talk to us. We’re not enemies, we’re here to make your life easier with our baby brother” Alley said. 

“Thank you” You replied. “It’s really nice of you” 

“Everything’s ready, let’s go to the garden” His mom announced. 

You stood up from the couch and walked to Matt. None of you said anything, just smiled. Matt got the chair for you and his sisters were looking carefully at the interactions between the two of you. He was keeping you close, like he was scared of losing you. They could see that he cared about you. 

“Matt, could you start the grill?” His mom asked him. 

“Sure” Matt said. “You’ll be alright?” He asked you quietly so no one could hear. 

“Yeah, go” You kissed his cheek. 

Matt was responsible for the grill and the meat. You, his sisters and his mom were talking about life and joked about everything that was going on. It was a comfortable situation. Matt was looking at you from time to time and could see that you’re not nervous, just happy. 

“Here’s the meat” Matt placed the food on the table. 

Matt finally joined the conversation. In between eating, his sisters were telling you all the embarrassing stories from Matt’s childhood. You were laughing like crazy with every story you heard. He was just sitting there, trying to defend himself but his cheeks were ridiculously red. 

Two hours later, the laughs died and you’ve been just sitting outside, enjoying the time together you have. It was so nice to be here with Matt and his family. You already felt like a part of them. With his sisters you exchanged phone numbers and Alley created a group chat just for the three of you. 

“I don’t have a place for anything else” Matt sighed, full of food. 

“Not even for my brownie?” You asked him. 

“You made a brownie?” Steph asked. 

“Yeah” You blushed. “Matt told me that it’s your favorite cake so I decided to make it” 

“For your brownie, I always have space” Matt kissed your cheek. “I’ll go and cut it” 

When Matt left, his mom finally spoke. 

“Matt really loves you Y/N” His mom said. “You probably heard that already but his gestures… he’s a gentleman for you. I never saw him like that” 

“That’s true” Alley said. “He was keeping you close to himself, like he was trying to shield you and his hand never left your body” 

“He also was looking at you and reading your every emotion with ease. He knew when you wanted extra food, when you felt anxious, when you felt cold” Steph said. 

“I really love him too. He’s incredible and I can feel his love every day, in his every gesture. I can’t imagine my life without him” You smiled.

“What are you talking about?” Matt said and walked with a tray of brownie cut into pieces. 

he tried his best to leave you some space as you stayed at home, especially since you'd prohibited him from visiting you in fear you might infect him as well. however, matthew was a weak man when it came around you. seeing you with wet eyes, prominent dark circles and the palest complexion he'd ever seen while you facetimed on your first day apart moved something in him.

when he noticed that trying to convince you to let him keep you company in your own house wouldn't budge you, he took a decision he deemed necessary.

he'd only gotten home from practice for a few minutes before he left his room again, freshly washed sweats on and shoes already in his hands as he approached the front door. sydney caught the sight from the kitchen, with the corner of her eye, and furrowed her brows in confusion, but kept quiet.

except that was the start of a routine: matthew would leave before dinner, come back home after an hour or so and act like nothing had happened, or sometimes even go out again. she was no one to demand an explaination, of course, but she felt uneasy about the sudden change of habits. he hardly ever went out by himself, especially without announcing it.

so, she did what any sane person in her situation would've done.

she looked at the clock in the kitchen, arms pointing at 6:32pm, and waited for matthew to arrive and walk out of the door. like clockwork, the boy's figure materialized in a few minutes, wearing the same house clothes as always. she greeted him as he stepped into the room.

“hey! going out?”

he scratched the back of his neck, looking around like the living room had suddenly become somewhat entertaining. “uh… yeah, just going for a walk. i’ll be back before dinner.”

the woman hesitantely nodded and watched him walk out of the house without another word. she never wanted to seem like the hyperprotective, over apprehensive one, but that behaviour was rather unusual.

she exchanged a knowing look with her husband, who was handling the dishes, before walking over to him. the sink was placed directly underneath the window, and she hoped she'd at least catch a glimpse of the boy's whereabouts before he eventually disappeared from the area.

sydney’s eyes met with the most adorable sight instead, one that warmed up her heart and made her elbow nudge the man’s ribs as he rinsed a glass in the sink.

he looked up in confusion, before moving his gaze towards where hers laid: matthew was leaning against the doorframe that led into your house, as you apparently bickered with him, all with a huge smile on your face. you were wrapped tightly in a soft, heavy blanket and with the hood of your sweatshirt, one they both could swear had been seen in matthew’s own laundry basket, shielding your head from the cold outside air.

then, when he leaned over to press a tender kiss to your cheek, the blonde woman audibly squeaked, attracting the attention of the girls that were just as curious as their mom.

sydney barely had time to mention your names before their little ears pearked up.

"i knew it!" winnie's small voice cheered, as her hands raised triumphantly over her head.

as the scene unraveled at the martins' house, right across the street you and matthew were stuck in your own bubble, with you telling him he should stop visiting you to avoid getting sick and him saying there was no chance of it happening.

“fine, but no kisses.”

"you are so annoying." he huffed, settling for that kiss on the cheek that matt and sydney, unbeknownst to you, had witnessed from their kitchen.

you led him inside, taking advantage of the empty house you had to yourself to move your resting spot from the bed to the couch. you snuggled up to him, head on his chest as your side lazily slumped against the couch's back pillows, arms wrapped softly around his torso whilst his own were tight around your shoulders.

his hand left your back for a second, enough to reach into his pocket and pull out your favourite chocolate bar. you'd mentioned liking it briefly in a random conversation weeks prior, and you'd be lying if you said the care behind that small gesture didn't make your chest warm up with joy -- other than your high fever.

you felt yourself melt - and at times nearly doze off - in the embrace, all as you listened to matthew give you the daily report of how his day had been like, starting from the yogurt bowl he had for breakfast at the café you'd recommended, going through the new drills he'd tried at practice and finally updating on the pool matt had been cursing over whilst trying to build in their backyard.

it was nice, it was domestic. you couldn't believe you used to feel like what was between the two of you was wrong, because there wasn't a single second you spent together that didn't make you feel understood, that didn't make you smile without even a reason behind it. everything about the curly haired boy whose arms you were laying between felt like home.

he seemed to sense the shift in your thoughts like he'd read your mind. “does being sick always put you in such a good mood?”

“no, it’s just-” a fit of cough interrupted your heartfelt confession, and you just shook your head once it stopped. “never mind.”

“no, don’t do that. i need to know now.”

you sighed defeatedly, hiding your face further into the crook of his neck to prevent him from seeing the blush appear on your cheeks. “i’m just… i’m happy you’re here.”

“if only you weren't so stubborn about it.” he teased, chuckling softly.

“you’re annoying.”

“but you like me.”

he flashed a charming grin your way, before standing up from the couch and making his way to your kitchen. assuming he'd just gone to grab a glass of water or a snack for himself, you wrapped yourself in your blanket again. only when you heard loud clanking sounds you sat up straight, trying to understand whether the noise was real or a hallucination.

"what the fuck are you destroying?" you called out, too tired to stand up and check out for yourself.

"don't worry about it!"

and you didn't. not until matthew reappeared in the doorframe, with an unreadable expression. it took you a couple of seconds to focus on his hands, occupied with two steaming mugs.

"made some tea," he explained, probably noticing the confusion behind your eyes. "it should help with the sore throat."

like it wasn't the sweetest thing someone had ever said to you, like your heart wasn't fluttering in your chest because of him, he sat down next to you and set the mugs on the coffee table, your favourite one directly in front of you.

you couldn't get any words out, both because you felt physically too weak to and because you were still too stunned by that seemingly small, but infinitely lovely, gesture.

still, as matthew returned to his rambling about everything and anything, your eyes focused on his sharp features and your ears picked up every syllable pronounced by that familiar, deep voice.

when it was time for him to return home, much to your dismay, you pulled the thick blanket around you once again, insisting on at least walking him to the door. before he could even say anything, you noticed the pleading, yearning look in his eyes.

“babe.” he whined, as if you weren't already fighting against your own common sense. “c’mom, baby, kiss me.”

“not a chance. if you get sick because of me i’ll never forgive myself.”

“listen, even if there was a possibility you might get me sick, i am willing to take it.”

you mentally debated whether or not you should’ve listened to his words, but your physical discomfort and mental fatigue wouldn’t let you argue any further. “kiss me.”

never in you life had you seen someone's expression change so quickly: his slight pout shifted into a wide, toothy grin, and he didn't waste a single second before cupping your cheeks with his hands, leaning down enough to let your lips connect after what felt like ages.

there was no hesitation, no pause, just eagerness that nearly faded into desperation. you held your breath as you savoured his lips, warm and slightly fruity from the tea. his arm circled your waist, trying his best to pull you into him.

you couldn't believe how much a couple of days had affected you, but you mentally cursed at yourself for being as stubborn as matthew had said. you felt overwhelmed with feelings, in the best way; knees nearly buckling under your weight and pulse racing dangerously, while all you could concentrate on was how good his tongue sweeping against your bottom lip felt.

pulling away after what felt like not nearly enough for all the lost time, your breath mixed with his, both left panting and spent. his arms tightened around you once again, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

a wholehearted chuckle vibrated in his chest, contagious enough to make you laugh as well.

"tomorrow, same time?"

"hopefully i feel better enough i can come see the girls myself." you smiled, eyes sparkling with optimism. "thank you for taking care of me, matt. you didn't have to."

"don't even mention it." he mumbled, hand waving your words off.

he left a quick peck on your forehead before leaving, afraid the family in the house right across yours might be waiting for him to eat dinner.

he crossed the street, inserted his key in the locked and entered the warm, never quiet house. he could hear the twins babbling and the girls laughing, smell of freshly cooked food filling his nostrils as he approached the kitchen.

sydney's eyes raised as soon as she heard his steps, and she smiled brightly as per usual.

"well, hi there. had a nice walk?"

"uh, yeah. bit tiring, but nice." he replied, taking his usual seat next to alice's high chair.

"i thought you were more athletic than this, you got tired of just walking across the street?"

there it was. his lies had been unmasked, the people he considered his second family thought he was a vile liar and would've never trusted him again. he raised his gaze slowly, afraid to meet disappointed faces all around him. instead, he was met with knowing smirks and muffled giggles.

"okay, guys, i can explain."

"please do, and don't spare details, i've been rooting for you two for months."

"yeah, and she hasn't even been quiet about it." matt chimed in, sighing dramatically.

just as matthew's shoulders relaxed and he slumped back into the wooden chair, winnie's high pitched voice caught everyone's attention.

"matty, does it mean you're getting married?"

her parents couldn't even try to hide their laughter, nearly doubling over the table. matthew just smiled contentedly, heart full even just thinking about it. you two might've been a little young for that, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't think about marrying you on a daily basis.

you remember him coming over after practices or games and him and your brother shouting at the tv, playing whatever video game was really popular at that time. you didn't really see him as more than your little brothers older hockey player friend till you got to high school.

he was a year above you, so when you got there, he was the one to show you around, tell you the cool spots to hang out during lunch, and which group of people were bad news.

after the first day of school, you expected him to leave you alone, maybe a wave in the hallway, but wherever you went, you always seemed to see him. he was in one of your classes, laughing loudly about something his friend said, or in line to get lunch, playing a harmless prank on someone else.

when things took a turn was when you were partnered up for a chemistry project. he didn't really have any idea what was going on in the class, he just liked watching things explode and wearing the cool goggles. you, however, knew everything (in seth's eyes). he always thought you were the smartest person in the world, so who better to be partnered with than a modern day albert einstein (his words, not yours).

so, he started coming over after school more, needing help with homework or when teachers saw you worked well together and actually helped him, they started partnering the two of you up together more. on the third, partnering up, he finally bit the bullet and asked you out. from that moment on, you were even more conjoined at the hip than you had been before.

flash forward ten years, you were in the stands of the stanley cup finals, wearing his name on your back, surrounded by the nearest and dearest people in seth's life, almost unable to believe your eyes. you knew seth had it in him to be in the position to be in the finals and win. you would always be there to hype him up. after every win, every loss, every injury, everything.

the entire game, you were a nervous wreck. watching the puck even get close to the net, your heart was beating loud enough that you would hear it in your ears and feel it. when the buzzer finally sounded and you watched all the guys jump onto the ice, forming a dog pile was when you finally let yourself feel.

all the previous wins in the series were exciting, but you were always thinking about the next one. this time, however, you could finally celebrate. you fell back into your seat, dropped your head into your hands, and just started crying.

when you stood back up, it still felt like a movie. watching them get to hoist the cup after years of it being in their grasp but just missing it, it was finally real, and they had finally done it.

your hand was gripping onto his mom's as you made your way down to the ice. all around you, family, friends, loved ones, coaches, everyone was trying to get down to the ice and find their guy. your head was on a swivel as you tried to find seth amongst everyone else.

someone in your group spotted him doing an interview, and could see he was holding on by a thread. you let him finish the interview before making your way over because you knew the moment he saw you, he was gonna burst into tears.

and you were right. the moment he saw his parents, he started crying. you let go of his mom’s hand, and watched as his mom and dad embraced him, crying right alongside him.

they said something you couldn’t hear and it also felt weird to intrude in such an intimate moment so you simply watched, a proud smile on your face and tears glistening in your eyes.

after a few minutes, he let go and turned his attention to you. he opened his arms and you melted into his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his neck. you felt his body shake and knew he was filled with emotion.

“you did it!” you exclaimed, pulling away and cupping his face. you smiled, pulling him into a kiss before hugging him again. “i’m so proud of you!” you spoke into his ear.

“i wouldn’t be here without you.” he whispered back, his voice cracking and thick with emotion he didn’t know how to express. “you’re as much of a winner here as i am, baby!”

you cried a little harder at that before pulling away and giving him a tearful smile. you gave him one last kiss before stepping back and letting the gaggle of guys who had come along on the ride with you.

you wiped at your eyes, taking a step back and looking around, taking everything in for a moment and enjoying the energy and atmosphere.

a few hours later, seth was gone. like, so far gone he wasn’t on the planet anymore. drink after drink had been handed to him, and never wanting to miss out on the party, he drank every single one of them.

you were sitting at a table, a smile on your face as you watched the cup get hoisted around the room. the moment it was raised, everyone in the bar cheered louder than you had heard before. you kept a close eye on seth.

he made his way over to you, singing loudly to whatever song was blaring through the speakers of the bar. you wrapped your arms around his neck, a smile on your face.

“have you been drinking water?” you asked, offering him a fresh glass of ice water. he took a small sip before going back to whatever alcoholic drink was in his other hand. “wishful thinking.” you joked under your breath.

“i’ve been thinking for a while now,” you tilted your head to the side at the sudden seriousness in his voice. “i’m getting a ring this year, but i don’t want to be the only one.” it took a few minutes to understand with the alcohol in your system as well as the music booming in your veins.

“what are you saying?” your brows pulled together in confusion.

“i’m asking you to marry me.” he looked hopeful, “will you marry me? spend the rest of our lives together?” he set his drink down, and put his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes with such love and earnestness it made your heart stutter.

“are you drunk, seth?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up, but also wanting to say yes at the same time.

“i’m sober enough to know this is what i want and something i’ve wanted since we got partnered up in chemistry.” he stated.

you took a breath, staring at him in the eye and trying to gauge if he was being serious. when you saw he wasn’t backing down, you knew he was being for real.

“all right, yeah.” you finally nodded, “let’s get married.” the words barely left your mouth before he was breaking out into a smile, and picking you up off the chair you were sitting in, spinning you around and cheering.

“seth-!”

“we’re getting married!” he shouted basically at the top of his lungs, pulling you along as everyone, albeit drunk, patted him and you on the back, cheering for you both.

almost four months later, you were walking into lenovo. you hadn’t seen a lot of the girls since the season had ended, a lot of them going home, so you hadn’t gotten a chance to tell them your exciting news.

the off season had been one of the busiest but most exciting of your lives. seth had a cup win under his belt, you had gotten married over the summer (you had been too excited to wait), and of course, the secret only the people closest to you knew, you were three almost four months pregnant.

you walked into the family section, a smile on your face. the moment the girls saw you, their jaws dropped.

“y/n y/l/n…” they all gasped, standing up to greet you and taking in your growing bump that hadn’t been there the last time they saw you.

“surprise!” you smiled, accepting all of their hugs and congratulations.

“how far along are you?”

“almost four months.” there was a moment of silence, and you watched as each of them did the math in their heads. a look of realization crossed all of their faces. “yeah…” you nodded sheepishly.

“you’re having yourself a little cup baby!” they all cheered, congratulating you all over again and hugging you. by the end of the night, everyone in the locker room knew and seth sent you a text, telling you he had been teased by every single guy.