I'm Roh/26 yrs

she comes into the living room in the clothes she left in this morning, dark jeans and a button-down with the sleeves rolled neat to her elbows. hair pulled back, a little frizz at the edges from the humidity.

“hey,” she says, voice low and a little rough. she drops her bag by the armchair, the soft thud of it hitting the floor the only sound for a second. she crosses to you like she always does when she first gets home, leans down like she’s going to kiss your cheek, already half-smiling like maybe if she pretends hard enough the late arrival won’t matter.

only this time you turn your face away, the movement small but sharp, causing her to pause mid-lean.

you catch the way her breath stops for half a second, the little flinch she tries to hide. she straightens slow, one hand still resting on the back of the couch near your shoulder. “okay…” she says, quieter.

you don’t look at her. you’re staring at the tv, some cooking show you put on hours ago just to have noise in the house. your hand rests on the side of your stomach where the baby’s been kicking on and off all afternoon, restless little flutters that kept you company when nothing else did. “you said three.”

“i know, baby.” she sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. she reaches like she might take your free hand and then doesn’t, fingers curling back into her palm instead. “things ran long. i texted-“

“at four,” you cut in. your voice is flat. “one text that said ‘still here, sorry.’” you say the words in something that would mimick her voice, almost mocking. “that’s it. that’s all you said. no ‘i’ll be home by five’ or ‘i’m trying to wrap up.’ just… that.”

baran exhales through her nose, the sound tired. her fingers tap a few times against her thigh then still completely. “i’m here now…”

“yeah. now. congrats, gold medal to you.” you finally look at her. the late afternoon light coming through the blinds cuts across her face and makes the dark circles under her eyes more obvious. “i sat here all day. alone. again. the baby’s been moving like crazy since lunch and i wanted to tell you, i kept waiting to tell you, and you weren’t here. i made food for two and ate it by myself at the counter. i walked to the store - alone, by the way - because we were out of my favorite crackers and the whole time i kept thinking maybe you’d pull up while i was out. maybe you’d text again. but no, you didn’t.”

she nods slowly, eyes on your face. “okay. i get it. you’re upset.”

“upset?” the word comes out sharper than you mean it to. you sit up straighter and the couch cushion shifts under you, the t-shirt pulling tighter across your stomach. “baran, i’m past upset. this is the third time this week. last saturday you left at seven in the morning and didn’t walk back in until almost midnight. the saturday before that you missed the whole afternoon and you didn’t even let me know until i texted you at six. we’re supposed to be doing this together. you promised when we found out. you looked at me and said you’d make time. not leftover scraps at the end of the day.”

her jaw tightens just a little. she doesn’t raise her voice. she doesn’t want to escalate this, but there’s a new tightness around her mouth that wasn’t there a minute ago. “i’m trying. you know i’m trying. some days are just-“

“don’t,” you snap. “don’t finish that sentence with whatever excuse is about to come out. i don’t want to hear about how important it is or how nobody else can cover or how you’ll make it up. i’ve heard all of it. over and over.”

baran leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands loosely clasped like she’s holding herself in place. she’s trying to catch your eyes and keep them, she just wants you to really hear her. “i don’t want to fight with you,” she says, and her voice is steady but there’s a thin thread of patience underneath it. “not today. it’s hot and you’re uncomfortable and i know the last couple months have been hard on you. on both of us. i’m not trying to make it worse.”

“hard?” you laugh, short and ugly, the sound scraping out of your throat. “hard is morning sickness that still hits me out of nowhere. hard is not being able to sleep because this kid thinks two A.M. is party time. hard is carrying our baby while you’re barely in the same house most days. you come home, you shower, you ask how i am like it’s a checklist you have to tick off, and then you’re already thinking about the next thing. i can see it in your face. so just stop it. stop acting like showing up late and saying the right words is the same as being here.”

she is quiet for a few seconds. the fan clicks as it turns, pushing the same warm air around the room. her fingers tighten where they’re clasped, knuckles going a little pale, and when she finally speaks her voice stays even but it costs her something. you can hear it. “that’s not fair.”

“fair?” you push up off the couch, needing to move, the shirt riding up a little over your stomach. you pace the few steps to the window and back. “you want to talk about fair? i’ve been fair. i’ve been patient. i’ve told myself every time that you mean it when you say you’ll be better about it. and then you do it again. you leave. and i sit here getting bigger and more tired and more alone and i start wondering if this is just how it’s going to be. if this is the version of married with a kid we’re stuck with.”

baran stands too. her hands flex at her sides before she forces them still, but her shoulders are already tight and her breath comes a little uneven. “i love you,” she says, and her voice catches on it, rough around the edges. “i love this baby. i’m not- god, i’m not choosing anything over you on purpose. please believe me, baby. it just… it keeps happening and i hate it.”

“but you are.” your voice cracks and you quickly press the heel of your hand against your eye for a second. “every time you choose to stay longer. every time you don’t push back and say i need to go home to my wife who’s growing our child. that’s a choice. and i’m the one who pays for it. i’m the one who spends the day talking to an empty house. i’m the one who has to google if it’s normal that i’m this exhausted at twenty-two weeks because you’re not here to tell me it’s fine or to just sit with me while i feel like shit.”

her eyes flicker and something tight moves across her face. her mouth trembles for half a second before she presses it shut. “i’m sorry.” the words come out quieter, almost cracked. “i should have been here. i should have left earlier. i kept telling myself five more minutes because they needed me there and then it was hours and i- fuck. i know how that sounds.”

“sorry doesn’t fix it now,” you say. the words come out quieter now but they land harder somehow. “sorry doesn’t put you on that couch with me this afternoon when the baby started kicking like it was trying to get my attention. i wanted you to feel it. and you were somewhere else.”

baran takes a step closer. stops when you don’t move toward her. “let me feel it now.”

you shake your head. “it’s not the same.” you scoff.

silence stretches, usually it’d be filled with one of you reaching first but neither of you do now.

she runs a hand over the back of her neck, then drops it like the motion itself frustrates her. her voice rises a notch, not yelling but raw. “what do you want me to do? quit? walk away from everything so i can sit on the couch every afternoon? is that what this is? because i’m standing here trying and it still isn’t enough and i don’t know what to do.”

“don’t fucking twist it.” your chest feels tight. “i never asked you to quit anything. i asked you to be here more. to mean it when you say you’ll come home. to look at me like i’m not just another thing on the list of responsibilities you have to manage. i’m your wife. this is our baby. and half the time it feels like i’m doing this by myself while you drop in when you can spare the minutes.”

baran’s mouth presses into a thin line but her eyes are shiny now. “that’s not true,” she says, and it comes out defensive and hurt at the same time. “and you know that. you know i’m not just… dropping in. i’m trying so fucking hard and it still feels like i’m failing you.”

“it is true.” you can hear how tired you sound. how done you are. “and the worst part is you know it. you know exactly how much you’ve been gone. you just don’t want to look at it because then you’d have to admit that the person you married is sitting here alone more days than not and you’re the reason!”

she doesn’t answer right away. her eyes stay on your face, a focused look, but it’s less steady now. her throat works a few times. “i want to fix this… i just don’t know how, azizam,” she says finally, quiet and a little broken. “i hear you. i do. and it kills me that you’re sitting here alone with our baby while i’m… somewhere else. but i can’t rewrite the whole day. i can’t go back and leave at three. i wish i could. i really fucking wish i could.”

“i know.” your throat hurts. “that’s the problem. you never can.”

you turn away from her and walk toward the kitchen because standing there looking at each other is starting to feel like something that might break you both. the floor is cool under your bare feet as you open the fridge just to have something to do with your hands and stare at the shelves without really seeing anything.

behind you baran’s voice is softer, almost small. “i’ll do better. i’ll figure it out.” there’s a shaky exhale after it, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you.

you don’t turn around. “you keep saying that.”

the words hang in the hot air between you. she doesn’t come closer and you don’t invite her to.

the fridge light is too bright against the dim kitchen and the cold air spills out over your bare feet, raising goosebumps on your legs. you stare at a half-empty carton of eggs. behind you the floor creaks when baran shifts her weight. you can feel her still standing there, like she waits for a decision that hasn’t been made yet and she refuses to let the moment close.

“please,” you say, still facing the open shelves. your voice comes out thinner than you want it to. “just… go shower. or change. or something. i need a minute. i can’t keep doing this right now.”

the silence that follows is thick. you hear her breathe in through her nose, she inhales sharply because this doesn’t line up the way she expected.

“a minute,” baran repeats. the words sound like she’s testing them for sense and finding none. “what does that mean? we’re in the middle of this. we haven’t fixed anything?”

you close the fridge harder than you mean to. the bottles inside rattle against each other. you keep your back to her for another second, hands flat on the counter, feeling the cool laminate under your palms.

when you finally turn around she’s still in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. her hands are open at her sides like she doesn’t know where to put them. the careful posture she wears all day is gone. her shoulders sit higher than usual.

“it means i need space,” you say, leaning back against the counter because standing straight hurts right now. “my head’s full and my chest hurts and i can’t keep going in circles with you. go take a shower. cool off.” you say, “i’ll still be here when you’re done.” you add that part to reassure her.

baran doesn’t move. her eyes stay locked on your face, bright and focused in the low light. you watch the way her throat works before she speaks again.

“but if i leave… it just sits,” she says. her voice is climbing, not loud but urgent, like she’s trying to explain something that should be obvious. “it sits in my chest and i can’t put it down. we have to finish it. if we stop now it’s still broken and i’m going to walk around the house feeling like everything is wrong and i won’t be able to think about anything else. i need us to talk it through. otherwise it doesn’t go away.”

you press the heels of your hands against your eyes for a second. the pressure helps a little. when you drop them again baran has taken one step closer, then another, stopping just short of the kitchen tile like there’s an invisible line she’s decided not to cross yet. her fingers keep flexing and stilling at her sides.

“baran-“

“no, listen.” she cuts in before you can finish, the words coming faster now. “you said i’m not here enough. you said it feels like you’re doing this alone. i hear that. i do. and i hate it. so let’s figure out what ‘enough’ looks like. tell me the hours. tell me the days. tell me what you need me to say when i’m running late so it doesn’t feel like a brush-off. we can make a plan. right now. because if we just… pause… then i’m going to keep replaying every word you said and i won’t know how to fix any of it and i’ll feel like i’m failing you the whole time i’m in the shower. that’s even worse.”

you shake your head, slow. the kitchen feels smaller with her standing this close, the heat of the day still clinging to both of you.

“i can’t do the plan right this second,” you say. your voice is quieter but it still carries. “i’m exhausted. i’m hot. i’m still mad. i need the volume to go down before i can think straight.”

baran’s face does something complicated. frustration and worry pull at the corners of her mouth. she opens her hands like she’s offering the whole problem up for both of you to look at.

“then let’s lower the volume,” she says immediately, like she’s already solving it. “i’ll talk quieter. i’ll sit further away. but we keep going. please. i can’t just hit pause on this. it doesn’t work like that. if we leave it half-open it stays half-open and i don’t like that. i need to know we’re okay, or at least that we’re working on it.”

you look at her. a strand of hair has come loose from the neat pull-back and sticks to her temple. her chest rises and falls a little too fast, like she’s been holding the entire conversation in her body and it’s starting to spill out. like she’s desperate for this to work.

“i’m not leaving the conversation,” you say, softer now. you push off the counter and take one step closer so you’re both in the same small space of the doorway. “i’m asking for twenty minutes. that’s it. go rinse off. change into something that isn’t the clothes you left in this morning. then come back and we can keep talking. i promise i’m not shutting the door. i just need the air to think.”

baran stares at you for a long second. her throat works again. you can almost see her trying to force the need to keep talking into something smaller, something that can wait even though every part of her is resisting it.

“what if twenty minutes turns into you deciding you don’t want to talk anymore tonight?” she asks, and there’s real fear under the words. “what if the longer we wait the harder it gets? i don’t want to wake up tomorrow with this still sitting between us. i can’t. i need it resolved so i can breathe.”

you reach out without thinking and brush your fingers against the back of her hand. she goes still at the contact, eyes flicking down to where you’re touching her and then back up to your face.

“i’m not going to disappear on you,” you tell her. “i’m your wife. we’re having a baby. this is not the kind of fight that ends with me walking out. i just need a little room so i don’t say something worse because i’m overloaded. can you give me that? even if it feels wrong to you?”

she doesn’t answer right away. her hand turns under yours so her fingers can curl loosely around yours for a second, then she lets go like she’s making herself do it. her shoulders drop a fraction, the fight in them not gone but banked.

“okay,” she says finally. the word comes out reluctant and thin, like she’s agreeing against her own instincts. “twenty minutes. but i’m setting a timer. and when it goes off i’m coming back and we’re finishing this. i need everything on the table so we can put it back together.”

you nod. “yes, we’ll do that.” you say with a small smile that doesn’t feel forced.

she still doesn’t move. she stands there like the agreement isn’t quite enough to let her body leave the room. her eyes keep searching your face, looking for any sign that the pause might turn into something permanent. then she reaches out, slow, and brushes her fingers once over the side of your stomach where the baby had been kicking earlier. the touch is careful, almost questioning, her palm warm through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“i hate that i missed it,” she says, quiet enough that you almost miss it. “i hate that you’re standing here hurt because of me. i’m going to fix it. i just… need us to keep talking until it’s fixed.”

“i know,” you answer. your own voice has gone softer to match hers. “go shower. i’ll be on the couch when you’re done.”

she nods once, sharp, like she’s locking the plan in place so it can’t slip. her hand stays on your stomach a second longer than necessary before she pulls it back. then she turns and walks toward the hallway. you hear her footsteps on the old wood floors, the soft click of the bathroom door, the water starting a minute later. the pipes knock once the way they always do when the shower first turns on.

you lean against the counter and let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding. the house is quieter without her voice pushing to keep the conversation alive, but the quiet feels temporary. you know she’ll be back the second the timer ends, still needing every piece laid out so she can make sense of it. and for the first time all evening, the thought doesn’t feel like pressure. it just feels like her. like the way she loves so hard, even when it’s messy and hard to hold.

you push off the counter and walk back to the living room anf settle into the same spot on the couch.

the water runs for a long time. longer than twenty minutes. you stay on the couch with one hand on your stomach, listening to the pipes knock and the distant rush of the shower, letting the quiet settle around you like something you can almost lean on. the fan still turns in the corner, pushing the same warm air in slow circles. outside the light has gone from gold to that a blue-gray.

when the water finally stops you hear the muffled sounds of her moving around the bathroom. the click of the cabinet door. the quiet thud of bare feet on tile. another minute passes. then the bathroom door opens and her footsteps come down the hall, slower than usual, like she’s giving herself time to get ready for what comes next.

she appears in the living room doorway wearing an old soft t-shirt you recognize and the loose shorts she only wears at home. her hair is damp and loose around her shoulders. she’s holding her phone in one hand. the timer screen is still open, glowing faintly.

she stops a few feet from the couch and just looks at you for a second. her eyes move over your face like she’s checking for damage, making sure you’re still here, still willing to keep going.

“twenty-six minutes,” she says. her voice is quieter than before. “i gave you six extra. i tried.”

you nod and the movement feels heavier than it should. “thank you.” the words come out quieter than you planned. you’re still holding onto the edge of the earlier anger, but it’s softer now, worn down by the twenty-six minutes she actually gave you.

baran watches your face for another second like she’s making sure the thank you is real, then she sets the phone face-down on the coffee table. she sits on the other end of the couch, leaving space between you but not too much. the cushion shifts under her weight. she pulls one leg up under herself so she’s facing you fully, she’s decided the conversation is the only thing that matters right now. her hands rest on her thigh, fingers loosely laced. she doesn’t speak right away. she just breathes, watching you, waiting. the damp ends of her hair leave small dark spots on the shoulders of her shirt.

you let the silence sit for a few more seconds because part of you is still trying to decide how much to give her. the quiet feels different than it did in the kitchen. less sharp. still heavy, though.

you speak first because if you don’t the silence will start filling with all the things you didn’t say earlier.

“i meant what i said. about needing you here more.” your voice is steady but low. you keep your eyes on the space between you on the couch instead of her face at first. “it isn’t about you working. i know you have to. i’ve always known that. it’s about the way the days stretch when you’re gone and i don’t know when you’re coming back. the not-knowing is hard. it gets in my head and stays there. i start checking my phone every ten minutes even when i tell myself i won’t. and then when you finally walk in it’s like it doesn’t affect you.”

baran’s eyes stay on yours the whole time you’re talking. she doesn’t look away even for a second. her fingers tighten slightly where they’re laced together, then loosen again. she nods slowly, once.

“okay,” she says. her voice is careful. “so the not-knowing is the worst part.”

“yeah. i think so.” you glance up at her then. “the late nights suck. the long days suck. but the part where i’m sitting here with no idea if you’re coming home at six or ten is what makes me feel like i’m doing this by myself.”

she is quiet for a few seconds after that. you watch her turn the idea over the way she does when something important has just been handed to her. her thumb rubs once against the side of her other hand, a small grounding motion. her shoulders are still a little high, but not as tight as they were earlier. her gaze drops to your stomach for a second, then comes back up.

“then i need to be clearer,” she says finally. the words come out measured, like she’s already testing them against herself. “when i’m going to be late i need to say a real time. not ‘still here.’ something you can hold onto. even if the time changes later, at least you have a starting point. something that doesn’t leave you guessing all afternoon.”

you watch her face while she says it. there’s no defensiveness left in her voice. no edge. just the careful, focused way she gets when she’s trying to build something that won’t fall apart the second she looks away from it. a strand of damp hair has stuck to her cheek and she doesn’t bother moving it.

“that would help,” you say. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “a lot. even if it’s just ‘i think i’ll be out by seven, i’ll text if it changes.’ something. anything that isn’t radio silence until you walk through the door.”

baran’s mouth softens a little at the edges. she nods again, slower this time, like she’s locking the request into place so she won’t lose it.

“i can do that,” she says. “i should have been doing that already. i kept thinking the short text was better than nothing. but it wasn’t enough. i see that now.”

you shift on the couch, turning a little more toward her. the baby gives a small kick under your hand and you press your palm against it without thinking. “it’s not that i need a play-by-play of your whole day. i just need to know i’m still on the list. that when the hours start running long you’re thinking about the fact that i’m here waiting, not just about whatever’s keeping you.”

her eyes flick down to where your hand is resting on your stomach, then back to your face. something tight moves through her expression and then eases.

“you’re always on the list,” she says, quieter. “that’s the problem. i carry you with me the whole time and then i still end up late. and somehow that makes it worse, because i know you’re here and i still don’t walk out the hospital when i should.”

she shifts a little closer on the couch, still leaving space but closing some of the distance. the cushion dips under her weight and the fabric of her shorts brushes against the side of your leg. she keeps her eyes on your face while she talks, like looking away would make the words not real.

“and the weekends,” she says. “the ones where i disappear for fifteen hours. those have to stop. or at least… i have to fight harder not to let them happen. i can tell people i have to leave. i’m allowed to say that. i keep forgetting i’m allowed to say that.” her voice dips on the last part, quieter, almost like she’s admitting something.

she looks down at her hands for a second, then back up at you. there’s something raw in her expression that she usually keeps locked away when she’s not in the comfort of her own home and your presence. her shoulders have dropped a little but her fingers are still laced tight on her thigh.

you let the silence sit for a moment. the fan turns. a car passes outside, the sound fading quick. then you reach across the cushion between you and rest your fingers lightly against her knee. she goes still under the touch, then she turns her hand over so her palm faces up, an open invitation. you slide your hand into hers. her fingers close around yours, warm from the shower. her grip is careful, like she’s afraid of holding too tight and breaking something that already feels fragile.

“i don’t need you home every second,” you tell her. your thumb moves once across the side of her hand, slow. “i’ve never asked for that. i just need to feel like i’m not doing this by myself. i don’t like to sit around and wait. the googling gets worse when i’m alone - sites that tell me i need to be rushed to a hospital over something that ends up being nothing, when you could just look at me and say it’s fine or tell me what to actually do. the days feel longer than they should because the house is too quiet and i’m talking to the baby just to have a voice in the room.”

baran’s thumb starts moving slowly across your knuckles. the motion is steady, almost rhythmic, like she’s using it to keep herself grounded while she listens. her eyes stay on your face the whole time. she doesn’t interrupt. she just takes it in, the way she does when she’s decided the information matters more than defending herself.

when you finish she stays quiet for a few more seconds. her throat works before she speaks, voice lower than before.

“i want to be the person you can rely on. i should be. i’m your wife. the mother of our child.” her fingers tighten slightly around yours. “i want to be the one who sits with you when the baby’s kicking and you’re tired and the house feels too quiet. i hate that i’ve been making you do those things alone. i didn’t see how much it was affecting you until you said it like that. it just… kept happening slowly. one late night, then another, then a weekend that got away from me, and i kept telling myself the next day would be better. that i’d leave earlier next time. and then i didn’t.”

she swallows. her eyes are shiny but she doesn’t look away. her free hand comes up and rubs once over her own sternum like the feeling is sitting there physical, something she needs to press against. her voice drops even quieter when she keeps going.

“i’m scared of messing this up. the baby. us. i keep thinking if i just work hard enough at everything else then home will stay steady on its own. like it can run in the background while i handle the rest. but it doesn’t. it needs me the same way the rest of it does. maybe more. and i’ve been treating it like it could wait. like you could wait. and that’s not fair. i know it’s not fair.”

you watch her face while she says it. the careful mask is gone. what’s left is just her, sitting on the couch in damp hair and old clothes, holding your hand like it’s the only solid thing in the room. her thumb keeps moving across your knuckles, steady and slow, even as her voice threatens to catch.

you squeeze her hand. the pressure is light but steady, enough to pull her attention fully back to you. “come here,” you say.

she doesn’t hesitate. she shifts until her side is pressed against yours, careful of your stomach, adjusting once, then again, until she finds a way to fit without putting any weight where it might be uncomfortable. one of her arms settles around your shoulders, warm and solid. the other hand finds the place on your belly where the baby had been moving earlier. she rests her palm there, open and still, like she’s waiting for the baby to move. her damp hair brushes your cheek when she turns her head slightly, the ends still cool from the shower.

for a few seconds nothing happens. the fan keeps turning. you can feel her breathing against your side, a little uneven. then a kick comes again, stronger this time, right under her hand.

baran’s breath catches in her throat. her fingers flex gently against you, tracking the movement like she’s afraid it might disappear. a smile breaks across her face, wide and sudden, that looks like it almost hurts.

“hi,” she whispers, so soft you almost miss it. her eyes are fixed on the spot where her hand rests. “hey, azizam. there you are.”

another smaller shift answers her. her thumb strokes once across the fabric of your shirt, slow.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t here for the ones earlier,” she says, still looking down. her voice stays quiet, almost like she’s talking to both of you at once. “i keep thinking about you sitting here alone with it happening and me not knowing. that’s on me. i should’ve been on this couch with my hand right here.”

“you’re here now,” you answer. your own hand comes up to cover hers, holding it in place against your stomach.

she nods against the side of your head. her arm tightens around your shoulders just a little. for a moment neither of you speaks. then the baby kicks again, a solid little push that makes baran huff out a soft laugh under her breath.

“oh, you’re really going now, huh?” she murmurs, leaning in closer so her words are aimed right at the curve of your belly. “you’ve got a lot to say tonight. i missed the afternoon show but i’m here now, okay?”

you see her smile when another flutter follows. her fingers spread a little wider, trying to catch every bit of movement.

“i used to think about this,” she says after a few more seconds, voice still low. “when we first found out. i’d picture sitting like this, feeling the baby move, talking to them so they know my voice. and then the days got long and i let those pictures sit on a shelf instead of making them real. that was stupid of me.” she huffs out the last part.

she presses her palm a little firmer, gentle but deliberate.

“i’m your maman,” she tells the baby, soft enough that it feels private. “the one who’s been late a lot. the one who’s going to do better. you might as well get used to my voice now. i talk too much when i’m home. ask your mommy. she’ll confirm.”

you let out a quiet breath that turns into something close to a laugh. “she does.”

baran’s arm squeezes you in answer. her hand stays right where it is, waiting for the next kick like it’s the most important thing in the room. the house feels smaller around the two of you, the earlier fight still present but quieter now, pushed to the edges by the steady warmth of her side against yours and the small, insistent movements under both your hands.

she keeps talking in the same low voice, almost under her breath. “you kicked a lot today, didn’t you? wore your mommy out? i’m going to be here for more of them. all of them. you don’t get to have all the fun without me anymore.”

another kick lands, right against her palm. she smiles again, smaller this time but deeper, and rests her forehead against the side of your temple.

after a few minutes she speaks again, voice low and close to your ear. the words come out slower than usual, like she’s choosing each one carefully so it lands right.

“we’re going to make a plan,” she says. her hand is still spread over your stomach, warm and steady, tracking every small shift. “not tonight if you’re too tired. but soon. days i come home earlier. weekends that are ours. texts that tell you when to expect me instead of leaving you hanging. i need it written down so i can see it and stick to it. something concrete. is that okay?”

you feel her breathing against the side of your head while she waits. her thumb keeps moving in that same slow circle over the fabric of your shirt.

“yeah,” you say. “that’s okay.” your voice comes out softer than you expected. “i want that. something we can both look at so it’s not just floating around in our heads.”

her arm tightens around your shoulders, just enough that you feel the solid weight of it. she shifts a little closer, careful, until there’s almost no space left between your side and hers. the damp ends of her hair brush your cheek again.

“and when i start slipping again,” she continues, quieter now, “because i probably will, at least at first - you tell me. right away. don’t wait until you’re this angry and tired. i can take it. i need the clear signal so i can course-correct before it gets like this again. i don’t always notice when i’m drifting until it’s already late. my head gets full and i lose track of the edges.”

you turn your face toward her. she’s already looking at you, eyes dark and open in the dim room.

“thank you,” you say. the words feel small but necessary. you smile at her, the first real one all evening, and it comes easier than you thought it would. “for saying that. for not making me chase you for it.”

she watches the smile for a second like she’s memorizing it. then she leans in and presses her mouth to your temple, soft and lingering. she stays there longer than a regular kiss, forehead resting against your hair, breathing you in. her hand never leaves your stomach. the baby kicks again under her palm, a solid little push, and she smiles against your skin.

“you’re active tonight,” she murmurs, the words aimed the baby. “still showing off. i felt that one.” her fingers flex gently, answering the movement. “you’re going to keep me up all night once you’re out here, aren’t you?”

you let out a quiet breath that turns into a small laugh. your hand covers hers again, holding it in place. “probably. takes after you.”

baran’s arm squeezes you again, more solid. she doesn’t pull back. she stays close, mouth near your temple, voice dropping even lower.

“i mean it about the plan,” she says. “i’ll write it down tomorrow. the days, the windows, the texts. and if i start sliding you just say the word. even if it’s short. even if you’re mad. just tell me so i can fix it while it’s still small.”

you nod against her. the motion makes her lips brush your hairline again. “i will. i promise.”

she stays quiet, just breathing with you. her hand keeps up its slow, steady pressure on your stomach, waiting for the next kick like it’s a conversation she’s determined not to miss. when another small flutter comes she answers it with a soft hum, almost under her breath.

“i’m right here,” she tells half you, half the baby. “both of us are. you’re not doing this alone anymore. neither of you are. i love you both, so much.”

“i love you too, baran.” you whisper and lean more against her, turning your head slightly to kiss her cheek.

her forehead presses a little firmer against you at the kiss. the earlier fight feels farther away now, pushed to the edges of the room by the warmth of her side against yours and the careful way she’s holding both of you at once.

“You think so?” 

She zips up her purse, gets up off the bed and comes to stand behind you by the mirror. In its reflection you can see her outfit too, the long burgundy dress she bought specifically for this occasion, the black high heels. 

“Look at me,” she says, and waits for you to glance back and meet her eyes. Her voice is measured, sure. “You’re perfect. You always look perfect, tonight is no different.”

You can’t hold her gaze. You look into the mirror instead, taking in the way you look beside one another. “We look good together.” 

“We do. That’s why I want you with me tonight.” 

You hum in feigned disapproval. “Is that the only reason?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Wow, you’re not even going to pretend otherwise?” 

Baran steps closer, takes your left hand in both of hers and raises it to examine. She adjusts your diamond wedding ring, spinning to the center of your finger. 

“This,” she says, “is why I want you with me. You’re mine, and I want to show you off.” 

Your heart swells and you nod, unable to keep up with the joke anymore. She says it so easily — you’re mine — that it leaves you speechless. 

“They’re going to love you,” Baran says. She leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, and when she pulls back there’s a mark on your face from her lipstick. “I love you.” 

— 

With a drink in your system and a seat comfortably close to Baran’s at your table, you’re feeling amazing. 

Introductions went well with her coworkers. You’re able to put faces to names now, conversation is easy, and you’re comfortable as long as Baran stays at your side. 

She leans close to you, speaking into your ear. “I told you they would love you. Smart people.” 

You don’t deny it. You reach for her hand on the table, entwine your fingers with hers, and watch as the seats at your table keep filling. 

“What do you think?” Baran asks. She looks at you hopefully. 

“Everyone seems nice,” you say. “Except Robby. You were right about him.” 

She nods. “Well, at least now you’ve seen him for yourself. It’ll make my stories more vivid.”

You raise your joined hands and press a kiss to her knuckles. “I like being here with you. We should come to more of these, I want to support you.” 

“I’d like that.” 

At the other end of the table, Trinity Santos leans in conspiratorially to whisper to Cassie. But she’s a terrible whisperer, you learn this quickly, and the whole table can hear it when she says, “Did Garcia and Walsh ride together?” 

Beside you, Baran tenses. Her grip on your hand tightens, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and she turns to look at you guiltily. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, leaning closer to her. “Baran, are you okay?” 

“I kind of—” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. With every passing second, she looks more anxious. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

At first, you don’t understand why. Her words only make you nervous, and a thousand terrible possibilities flash through your mind all at once. 

“I didn’t know she would be coming,” she continues. “Please stay calm. We can talk about it at home.” 

You turn and look at the door to the event center and your stomach drops to your heels. 

—

“I can't go back out there, Baran! Why didn’t you tell me?” 

She sighs, leaning back against the sink in the restroom. She looks down at her shoes. “I didn’t think it was important.” 

“You didn’t think to tell me that you’ve been working with your ex-girlfriend all this time? My ex? Our ex, which I can’t believe I’m even saying.” 

Baran looks up to meet your eyes. She gives you a pleading look, begging you to let it go, but you can’t yet — you’re still angry. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice softer now. “Please don’t.” 

“I’m not looking at you in any special way.” 

“You’re giving me that look you do when you want me to forget whatever you’ve done to piss me off and pull you into my arms,” you accuse. “But that is not happening right now.” 

“Baby…” 

“No,” you interrupt. “There’s nothing you can say right now to make this better.” 

“We share an ex,” she says. “So what? We’re gay, that’s the landscape. Everyone has dated everyone else, it’s nearly incestuous!” 

“I’m not angry about that. I’m angry that you’ve had a thousand opportunities to tell me you work with her, and you haven’t taken any of them.”  

“She works in surgery,” Baran says tiredly, as if she’s already thought this over a thousand times to assess the risks and talk herself down — she likely has. “She’s not always down in the ED.” 

You cross your arms. “Do you talk to her?” 

“When I have to, and it’s always professional. I dated Yolanda in college and it was nothing, less than nothing. I know your relationship with her was similar.” 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I knew you would react this way,” she answers. “I knew you would be upset, and I didn’t want to make you upset. And you know very well that seeing Yolanda at the hospital would be at the bottom of the list of terrible things that happened on my first day at PTMC.” 

That last part is probably true, and you won’t argue it. But you also won’t bend and tell her that everything is fine, you forgive her, it’s water under the bridge. 

The restroom door opens. In walks Yolanda Garcia, who sees the two of you and pauses. 

“Evening, ladies,” she says. She looks between you, a small smile playing on her lips as if she knows exactly what you and Baran have been in here arguing about. “Trouble in paradise?” 

Baran gives her a sharp glance. “Yolanda, please.” 

“No, no, I’m kidding. Seriously, I hope I didn’t cause any problems earlier. I walked in and the two of you disappeared.” 

You can’t look at either of them. You don’t trust yourself. You study the floor, the space between the white tiles. 

“Crazy how you two ended up together,” Yolanda says, crossing her arms. “Married and everything. I was like the curve in the queer little road that brought you together.” 

“You didn’t bring us together,” you tell her bitterly. “If anything, you’re having the opposite effect.” 

She clutches her chest as if you’ve just shot an arrow through her heart, like you’re some malevolent equivalent of Cupid. “Harsh.” 

You move closer to Baran. You suddenly remember all the reasons you left Yolanda, all the reasons you started seeing Baran. 

“Can you two argue about me somewhere else?” Yolanda asks. “I really have to pee, and I don’t want to hear about how much you two hate me while I’m tinkling.” 

You reach out a hand for Baran to take. Immediately, she slips hers into it. 

— 

Despite the heavy summer heat that blankets the city during the day, Pittsburgh can still get chilly at night this time of year. You shiver when you walk out the doors of the convention center, but you don’t stop.

“We can’t go home,” Baran says. “I know you’re angry, but we can’t just leave!” 

You lead her through the parking lot, past rows of cars that make you wish you’d parked closer. 

“Being around Yolanda is part of my job!” she continues, struggling to keep up with you. “Can you slow down a little?” 

You finally reach the car. You stop, turn around, and Baran nearly runs into you. 

“You have to stop hiding things from me,” you say. “You know it’s a bad habit of yours to keep quiet about things you find upsetting. That needs to stop.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yes,” she assures you, stepping closer. “This is exactly what I didn’t want. I don’t want to fight with you. After not telling you about her that first night, I thought I could avoid it altogether.” 

You shake your head. “Look at where we are now.” 

“Yes,” she says again, and grabs your left hand. She compares it to hers, making you look down at your matching diamond rings. “Look at where we are now.” 

You can’t argue that. 

“I’m married to you,” she reminds you. “You’re married to me. Yolanda has no place in this.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise,” she meets your eyes. “You know the reasons why I left her. They were your reasons, too. That’s why we work well together.” 

You look down at your rings again. You find yourself drifting closer to her, and if you tilted your head up then you would be in perfect range to kiss her. 

“I don’t want anyone but you,” Baran says. 

You look up, meeting her eyes briefly before leaning in and kissing her, drawing closer to her. The sharpest edges of your anger dull, she softens you. 

“I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” you tell her quietly after you part.

She shakes her head. “I should have told you about Yolanda.” 

You kiss her again, deeper this time, letting her back you up against the side of the car. The handle of the backseat door digs into your back and you gasp at the sharpness of the sensation, releasing a shaky exhale, and Baran’s lips dip down to your neck. 

“Tell me what you want to do,” she murmurs. “Do you want to go home?” 

You consider it. It’s appealing to abandon this place and go home with her, let this continue in the privacy of your home. But you’re all dressed up, the night has just begun, and you think Baran would buy you another expensive drink from the bar to atone for her mistakes if you asked her to. 

“Not yet,” you answer. “You don’t get off the hook that easily.” 

“I usually do. This must be a grave offense, because there’s this spot on your neck that if I…” 

You push her away gently, kissing her one more time before taking her hand and leading her back through the parking lot. 

thank you for reading <3

September 16, 2024

Two years ago you and Cassie had decided on having a baby together.

Since you were a kid, you’ve dreamt about having a daughter. You went back and forth about being fine with having no children at all, but came to the conclusion that you would love to have at least one. Luckily, Cassie was thrilled by the idea.

After Harrison, Cassie wasn’t sure if she wanted another kid. Medical school and entering her 40’s pushed the idea of having another kid to the back of her mind. However, she started to reconsider when she met you.

Cassie being pregnant was off the table though. Age aside, that wasn’t an experience she wanted to go through again. Cassie grappled with the idea of being an older mother who would be 60 by the time your guys’ kid graduated high school. Plus, Harrison was almost 11 — there would be an age difference greater than 10 years between him and his sibling.

At the same time, Cassie did dream about having another child and doing things the “right” way.

It would be nice to have and raise a kid with a committed partner. While Cassie is by no means rich, she’s much more financially stable than she was when she had Harrison. One of her biggest regrets in life is not being the mother Harrison needed during his first few years of life.

Cassie has always been so loving, and Harrison knows she did her best and gave him love and support, but Cassie still feels guilty about not giving him her all. Having another kid would not be a “do-over” baby though. Harrison is her biggest blessing, and she wouldn’t change that for the world, but she would love the chance to be what she wasn’t back then. Cassie was in survival mode most of her pregnancy and after she gave birth to Harrison, so she didn’t get to take in and appreciate a lot of those early stages.

You wanting a kid made Cassie smile, already able to picture you being a mother. Technically, you’re already a great mom to Harrison. He may not be blood related to you, but you treat him just the same — that silly blue eyed wild boy is your son.

Harrison telling you and Cassie one night that he really wanted a sibling is what sealed the deal for her.

You and Cassie got married, it was a small but beautiful ceremony with close family and friends, and shortly after began to research options for having a child. You wanted to go through pregnancy, so you two landed on IVF. It worked out perfectly since Cassie would rather need a lateral canthotomy than get pregnant again, and you, a healthy 27 year old, wanted to.

Two weeks ago you had an embryo transfer. You and Cassie had settled on a donor with the same blue eyes as her and Harrison. The IVF process is expensive, so you had the financial support from your parents and Cassie’s. Her dad especially was eager to have another grandkid.

You hear the front door open, and you sit up off of the couch to greet your wife. She has a Walgreens bag in her hand with a pregnancy test… well tests.

“Hi.” Cassie walks over to you and gives you a quick kiss. She then opens the bag she’s holding. “So I got four different tests, all different brands. I also got you a bag of your favorite chips.”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “Very thorough, Cass.”

She looks up at you with a sheepish smile. “What do you expect, I’m a doctor.”

“A sexy one,” you say before leaning in and pressing your lips against Cassie’s. You pull back and give her a peck before fully retreating. “Should I take the tests now?”

“If you want to. We’ve been in the clear for a few days now.” Cassie scans your face and sees the nerves settling in. “It’s completely up to you, baby. Whenever you want, okay?”

You take a deep breath and press your lips together in a smile. “Let’s do it now.”

Cassie gives you a reassuring smile and walks with you to the bathroom. She sets the bag on the counter and begins to take all four tests out, each packaging different. “Do you want me in here?”

Already pulling your pants down, you shoot her a playful look. “You’ve seen me pee a million times.”

With a small laugh, Cassie opens one of the boxes. “True.” She then passes you a test.

“Fuck, I’m going to have to let out a little at a time for each test,” you say, rubbing a hand over your face.

“No, wait, baby,” Cassie tells you, an idea popping into her head. She points a finger at you and squints her eyes playfully. “Don’t pee,” Cassie says before exiting.

A minute later she comes back with a clear disposable cup. “Just pee in this, and we’ll dip the tests in there.”

“Smart,” you say as you take the plastic cup from her. Next, you squat over the toilet and pee into the cup, something you’ve done many times over the years.

While you’re washing your hands, Cassie places each test in your urine without even being asked. You both work in an emergency room, so you and Cassie rarely get grossed out about bodily fluids — just another reason why you’re both more than ready for a baby. Cassie reads the instructions on each of the boxes and sets an alarm on her phone, and then places it on off to the side by your toothbrushes.

Anxiously, you bite the inside of your cheeks. You place your hands on the bathroom counter, the tile cool. Cassie wraps her arms around you from behind, her hands coming to rest on your stomach. This is something she’s done countless times, but now with the chance of you being pregnant, it feels different. A good kind of different.

It feels like time moves by abnormally slow. Your heart races as you wait. Cassie’s presence helps calms your nerves a little. When the alarm rings, Cassie grabs her phone to turn it off, her fingers shaking slightly with anticipation.

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, baby.” You take a deep breath as well. “Do you wanna check?”

“Um… how about we both grab one and look at the same time?”

Cassie presses a kiss to your temple. When she pulls back, she has a nervous yet reassuring smile on her face. “Perfect.”

You grab a test and Cassie does the same. “On three?”

She nods. “On three,” Cassie affirms.

“One… two… three…”

At the same time, you and Cassie flip the tests you have in your hands over. The screen on yours reads pregnant while the one on Cassie’s has a plus sign.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, although, your voice is barely audible.

Cassie covers her mouth in shock, and then turns to you. “Baby,” Cassie whispers.

Your eyes begin to pool with tears. You set the test down and reach for another. That one also reads positive. Cassie grabs the final test, and turns it over in the middle of both of you. Another positive test.

“I’m… pregnant,” you murmur in disbelief.

“You are.”

With trembling hands, you grab Cassie’s arms, needing to grip something to ground you. “That means…”

“We’re going to have a baby,” Cassie finishes for you, her own eyes brimming with hot, happy tears.

You blink and tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m-I’m going to be a mom.”

Cassie laughs shakily and smiles at you with so much love. “You are.” She then presses a doting kiss to your forehead.

“Harrison’s going to be a big brother,” you say with a grin, your voice shaky with shock and excitement.

A single tear falls from one of Cassie’s eyes as she nods. “He’s going to be so fucking happy. I-I’m so fucking happy.”

You chuckle and smile even bigger. You bring a hand up to Cassie’s face and brush away the lone tear trailing down her cheek. “So am I.”

Cassie leans forward and kisses you. Your arms wrap around her neck while she holds onto your waist. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and rests her forehead on yours. Cassie then cups your face and swipes away your tears with her thumbs.

“You’re pregnant,” Cassie states, unable to stop smiling.

You look up into her beautiful blue eyes and nod. “We’re having a baby.”

Cassie kisses you once more, the two of you smiling against each other. This time when she breaks the kiss, Cassie immediately pulls you into a hug. She soothingly rubs circles around your back while you cling to her shirt.

It’s not a dream — you’re really pregnant.

You and Cassie are having a baby together.

October 10, 2024 — 6 weeks pregnant

You’re about halfway through your first trimester. Your baby bump is so faint, it’s barely there. The size of your tummy has been bigger after getting bloated following a big meal than it is right now.

Over the last few weeks, morning sickness has been kicking your ass. Certain foods make it worse. You’ve been unable to stand the smell of eggs, coffee’s been making you sick (which the lack of caffeine only makes you more grouchy), and mushy textures of foods such as bananas or mashed potatoes have been impossible to eat. With Harrison, Cassie also experienced nausea and vomiting, so she’s been helping you navigate it with lots of understanding and patience.

It’s barely 8:00AM, and you’ve been nauseous since you woke up two hours ago. Unfortunately, you were awoken by your stomach turning and threw up not even a minute after waking up. Since then, you haven’t been able to go back to sleep, the aches too strong.

But Cassie’s been at your side the whole time, even refusing to go back to sleep when you told her it was fine to.

In the master bathroom, you’re sitting on the edge of the tub. Cassie’s redoing the messy bun you did when you first got up. You’ve thrown up at least three times since, so your hair is falling out. Cassie gently combs your hair with her fingers before tying it back up, now more secure.

All of a sudden, that all too familiar ache surfaces again. With a gag, you stand up.

“Fuck,” you moan.

Cassie follows you as you head back to the toilet, dropping on your knees the second you get there. You whine in pain as you lift your head over the bowl, resting your forearms on the rim.

Cassie’s brows knit together in concern and anguish, feeling helpless because she knows there’s nothing she can do to rid you of this nauseousness. She gave you ginger after you first threw up today, but before it had the chance to kick in, you threw it up.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Cassie tells you sympathetically.

After a minute or so, you finally feel like you’ve gotten everything out. Maybe later this afternoon you’d get sick again, but for now it seems to have subsides. You’re crossing your fingers that this will be it for the whole day.

“God,” you say before standing up slowly. You reach out to grip the counter to help steady yourself, but Cassie grabs you with both hands instead, helping you up. “I hate throwing up.”

“I know, baby,” Cassie tells you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. She helps walk you over to the sink. You turn on the faucet and lean down to rinse your mouth.

“Mmm,” you moan lowly, miserable and nauseous. “I just want to lay down.”

Cassie nods, her hands still on you. “Of course, babe.” Even though you’re capable of walking without support, you let Cassie help anyways.

“Do you need anything?” Cassie asks as she lowers you to the bed.

“Water please. I think I left my water bottle in the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Cassie presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before leaving.

Less than 30 seconds later, she returns. You sit up to take a sip. “Thanks, baby.”

“No need to thank me,” Cassie replies as she hands you your water. She watches you closely, looking for any new signs of discomfort. When you finish drinking, Cassie takes your water bottle and places it on the nightstand. She then brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear, her touch featherlight and delicate.

“I’m okay, Cass,” you tell her as you begin to lay down again.

“Are you sure? I can get you—”

“I’m fine”, you say, cutting Cassie off. “Can you just lay with me?”

Cassie’s worried expression quickly softens and shifts to one filled with affection. “Of course.” You scoot over so Cassie can climb in.

“You’re amazing”, you say as you roll onto your side, adjusting yourself until you’re as comfortable as possible.

Cassie presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You are.” Cautiously, she wraps an arm around you. Cassie knows that you’ve been running hot lately, and she doesn’t want to add to your discomfort. Lightly, she places a hand on your stomach. “You’re literally creating life inside of you.”

You smile softly and bring Cassie’s hand to your mouth, kissing her knuckles lovingly. Then, you lower her hand back down to rest on your abdomen. Cassie curls up closer to you, her head coming up to rest on your shoulder and her thumb brushes tender strokes over your small bump.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, I want you close.”

Cassie smiles to herself and tightens her hold on you. You curl up more, your body molding perfectly with Cassie’s. “Tell me if you need me to move.”

“I will. Thanks, baby.”

“Good.” Cassie peppers your neck and cheek with kisses before murmuring, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

March 15, 2025 — 30 weeks pregnant

Two months ago you and Cassie found out you are having a girl.

Both of you didn’t want to have a big gender reveal, it felt weird to have an elaborate celebration over the sex of a baby. However, you two were still excited to find out.

You ordered a gender reveal cake from your favorite bakery. You, Cassie, and Harrison all had a clear cup and dug into the cake at the same time. Harrison is so excited to have a sibling, he didn’t care either way. The three of you were so excited to welcome a babygirl.

Since then, you haven’t done anything special like that in terms of the baby. But you will again since you have an upcoming baby shower.

Your sister decided to throw a baby shower for you and Cassie. She orchestrated everything, and while it was at your place, the only job you and Cassie had was to make a registry and guest list.

There are so many baby items you didn’t even realize you are going to need. It was fun but overwhelming to browse for your registry with Cassie. The wishlist ended up being long, so it’s going to be a surprise to see what you actually end up with.

Your baby shower is only women with the exception of Whitaker and Cassie’s dad Neil. You were fairly close with Whitaker, and it felt weird to invite Santos but not him which is why he made it into the guest list. Cassie’s mom died when she was in her late 20’s, so it was your idea to invite her dad instead. He loves to be involved in his daughter’s life, and he’s so excited to have another grandkid, so he happily accepted the invite.

The rest of the guest list includes PTMC coworkers, family, and friends. It wasn’t going to be a big party, but there’s a decent amount of people coming. You often forget how many people you have in your life that care about you and Cassie.

Cassie didn’t really have a baby shower when she was pregnant with Harrison. The closest thing she had was a small family lunch where they brought her some gifts. Because of that, Cassie’s really excited to have a baby shower for her next baby, especially because it’s with you.

It’s fairytale themed, an idea you came up with that Cassie loved. Your sister bought a few decorations including pastel colored balloons, a whimsical botanical tablecloth, and themed food. There’s a fruit tray, star shaped rice crispies on a stick to look like a magic wand, mini butterfly peanut butter and jellies, a charcuterie board, flower cupcakes, and Dana said that she would make pigs in a blanket. You weren’t expecting for this much effort to be put into a simple party, but you were grateful for it.

The attire isn’t anything too fancy, so you decided to wear a simple pink sundress. To match with you, Cassie’s wearing a matching pink button down shirt tucked into light washed jeans. Her signature gold chain is glistening against her skin. You’re also wearing a silver necklace with a heart charm at the end that Cassie gifted you on your first anniversary. It made her smile when she saw it on you.

As guests begin to trickle in, you and Cassie greet everyone. Once everyone is here, your sister explains some games she planned. The first one is guessing how big your baby bump is.

You tied a ribbon around your stomach and cut it to the circumference of your bump. Everyone else has to cut a ribbon to the length they think is the correct size of your belly. Cassie and you sit back and watch as the guests try and figure it out.

“That’s way too big, Huckleberry,” you hear Trinity say as she grabs a grape off of the fruit plate on the coffee table.

“Well, I don’t know,” he replies to her, playfully annoyed and a bit sheepish.

“I’m probably so off,” Victoria says as she cuts the ribbon to her best guess.

Cassie’s dad is participating too. He keeps glancing at your belly and then back to the ribbon, trying to approximate how big it is.

“Dad, you’re not going to be able to get the exact measurement by staring at her belly.”

“This dress is a bit loose,” you add.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Neil looks at your bump one final time before finally cutting the ribbon. “I think I’m pretty damn close,” he says as he pushes his glasses up onto his nose.

Cassie chuckles and shakes her head. “We’ll see.”

When everyone is finished, your sister measures each person’s ribbon to compare it to yours which is 18.2 inches. You sit back in a living room chair, Cassie sitting on the arm with an arm around you, and rubs your stomach as you learn everyone’s guesses.

“I’m in the lead right now,” Trinity says with a smug smile. “19 inches.”

“Not anymore,” your sister says as she finishes measuring Dana’s.

“What?!”

One corner of Dana’s mouth rises, a smirk forming. “18.4 inches. After having four kids come outta me, I think I can make a pretty good guess.”

Dana remains in the lead as your sister continues checking everyone’s measurements. She finished with Neil.

“18.6 inches,” your sister announces.

“Ha!” Neil exclaims. He points a finger at his daughter. “I told you I would get close.”

Cassie chuckles and squeezes your shoulder. “Second place isn’t too bad.”

You flash him a playful grin. “I always believed in you, Neil.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite daughter,” he teases.

Cassie puts a hand over her chest, feigning offensiveness. “How rude.”

Neil chuckles, and you giggle which breaks Cassie’s charade. She kisses the top of your head and laughs, hiding her face in your hair.

Your sister gives Dana the prize she won for this game, an essential oil diffuser. She then preps for the next game which is guessing baby food flavors. As she does so, the rest of the party chats.

“After games are you going to open gifts?” Victoria says excitedly. You’re pretty sure her gift is the presentable one in a big purple bag with star tissue paper.

“Yes,” you answer. “Thank you all in advance for whatever you got me.”

“We appreciate it,” Cassie adds on with a grateful smile.

“Since I already bought you a lot of baby stuff, the gift I brought for you today is all for you,” your mom tells you. She takes a sip of sparkling cider before continuing. “Mom deserves to be spoiled too.”

“Amen,” Dana says.

“Aww, thank you, mama.” You can feel yourself getting emotional. You’ve always been a sensitive person, but these pregnancy hormones have been amplifying it. “I can’t wait to open everything.”

Cassie plays with your hair with one hand and rubs your shoulder with the other. You lean your head against her, craving her comfort. In response, Cassie holds you to her even tighter.

“Stop being so fucking cute,” Trinity suddenly says as she watches you and Cassie. The affection between you two is so natural, sometimes you forget how other people may perceive it.

You and Cassie chuckle simultaneously. “What? I can’t pamper my pregnant wife?”

“You guys have always been like this,” Trinity replies to Cassie.

Dana crosses her arms with a teasing smile. “I swear you’re always touching.”

“Oh, for sure,” Samira adds, backing up Trinity and Dana.

One of your hands finds Cassie’s thigh while the other remains on your belly, rubbing circles on your bump. “You’re just going to have to deal with it,” you say through a laugh.

Trinity shakes her head with a growing smile. “I guess Cassie knocking you up only made it worse.”

Practically the whole room erupts in laughter, including you and Cassie. Cassie’s cackle seems to drown out everyone else’s laugh — at least in your ears.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where a woman gets another woman pregnant,” Dana says before taking a sip of the sparkling cider in her hand.

“Cassie was very determined,” you joke.

She laughs, her face flushing a little. “Oh my god,” Cassie mutters.

A mischievous twinkle flashes through Trinity’s eyes. “Anything is possible with the power of strap.”

“That’s my daughter,” Neil says, shaking his head and raising his glass of sparkling cider up in the air before another round of laughter ripples through the room.

Once it settles, small talk and baby related questions start up again. As you converse, you continue to unconsciously rub your baby bump while Cassie rubs your arm.

“So do you have a name picked out yet?” Dana asks with a raised brow before popping a grape into her mouth.

You and Cassie exchange a look and fight back a smirk. She grabs your hand, lacing her fingers with yours. Then you turn back to Dana. “We have… options. You’re just going to have to wait and see.”

Last week, you guys were finally able to narrow it down to three babies names. Lorelai, Piper, and Cecilia. A big reason as to why these are the top choices is because of the nicknames that comes with each name. It would be so adorable to call your daughter Lori, Pipes, or Cece.

You and Cassie know that you’ll know your daughter’s name when the time is right.

April 21, 2025 — 38 weeks pregnant

“I want you out!”

Cassie laughs as she watches you yell at your bump. “I’m sorry, baby,” she tells you, genuinely sympathetic.

“My due date was three days ago, I’m so done,” you say with a groan.

You’re sitting at the table eating dinner. Cassie made pasta primavera, something quick and easy. Cassie takes a final bite of her food before standing up and walking over to you. She’s behind you now and starts rubbing your shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that,” you grumble. Since being pregnant, especially as far along as you are now, people have been treating you extra delicately. You don’t like feeling like they’re taking pity on you or that you can’t be independent.

But Cassie knows this.

“I want to. I used to do this before you were pregnant, remember?”

You sigh and nod, knowing that Cassie’s always pampered you. You finish eating as Cassie massages out some knots.

“Do you want me to take your plate for you, baby?” Cassie cautiously asks you.

“I got it, thanks.”

Cassie gives you space as you stand, although, still hovering. You grab onto the table while you slowly rise. When you’re up, you grab your plate along with Cassie’s and waddle over to the kitchen. You place the dishes in the sink and rinse them, but don’t load them.

Cassie gives a quick peck to your lips and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “How about you go rest while I clean up?”

You glare at her, but you’re too tired and big to argue. “Fine.”

Cassie ignores your pout and kisses you again. She swaps spots with you at the sink and playfully swats your ass as you walk away. While Cassie cleans up dinner, you waddle over to the couch since it’s closer than your bedroom.

You sit down and grab the book you’re reading from the coffee table. You then prop your feet up on the coffee table and lean back into the couch. You’ve only been reading for a minute when you feel the need to pee.

“Damn you, baby,” you grumble to yourself.

With a sigh, you insert your bookmark and set the book down. Then, you stand up slowly. As you walk to the bathroom, you keep a hand on your stomach and another on your back, providing support.

But then you suddenly feel wetness between yours legs and hear a splash against the tile.

Cassie comes out, having just finished the dishes and putting the food away. She covers her mouth with her hands.

“Oh my god,” you say, ready to cry. “There is no fucking way I just peed myself.”

“Baby…” Cassie says as she walks over to you. “I don’t think you did. Your water just broke.”

Your eyes snap to Cassie’s “Oh, fuck.” You look down at the ground, and then back to Cassie. “Oh, fuck,” you say again, this time louder as reality sets in.

You begin panicking, and Cassie can see the worry written in your eyes. She grabs onto your shoulders, gently holding you to ground you.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes keep looking every which way, trying to figure out what to do next. Should you clean up first? Head to the hospital? Lay down? Oh, god, what if you faint?

“Baby. Look at me,” Cassie says, this time firmer and more commanding.

You do.

“Sit down and I’m going to get your go bag, okay?” She kisses the top of your head. Cassie then wraps an arm around your waist and guides to do the nearest chair. “I’m going to grab you a change of clothes too. You just wait here.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice weak.

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. You’re not sure how Cassie is able to be this calm.

Except, she’s not, she’s just good at hiding it from you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Cassie mutters under her breath as she rushes into your bedroom, her heart racing.

She grabs the go-bag from the corner, and then fishes out a change of clothes. Cassie grabs a fresh pair of underwear, one she knows is your most comfortable, your favorite maternity leggings, and a t-shirt. She goes through a mental checklist of everything you guys need before returning to you.

Cassie helps you change, gently walking you through everything. “Arms up, baby.”

You’re trembling slightly, but you feel a little better once you have a clean change of clothes — just a little. Cassie then helps you stand. She has the go-bag on her shoulder, and grabs both of your water bottles, her keys, and finally your hand.

“Ready to go?”

You nod, scared shitless. Seeing your worried expression, Cassie gives your hand a reassuring squeeze followed by a kiss to your knuckles.

“You got your wish, she’s finally coming out,” Cassie attempts to joke.

Shakily, you let out a half laugh, half sigh. “Apparently so.”

“We’re gonna be okay.”

You turn to Cassie. Her eyes are filled with love, and she has the softest smile painted on her face. Suddenly, everything feels like it’s going be fine. Your worries start to melt away as you stare deeply into Cassie’s calming eyes.

“Okay,” you whisper. You take a deep breath and squeeze Cassie’s hand. “Let’s go have a baby.”

May 2, 2025 — one week postpartum

You are so grateful that both you and Cassie were able to get maternity leave. It’s not as long as you would like, but you have two months, and since Cassie doesn’t have to physically recover, she’s going back three weeks before you. The thought of having to schedule in pumping at work and being without your baby for a full work day is too overwhelming to think of right now.

In the meantime, you’re trying to focus on the now — not stress about the future and things out of your control. Time already feels like it’s slipping away. It’s only been a week since you gave birth to Piper, and she’s already grown so much.

“My babies,” Cassie whispers with an affectionate smile.

You’re sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of your bedroom with Piper in your arms. She’s almost done nursing. You’ve only been breastfeeding for a week now and your nipples are already cracked and sore. And your as for your boobs, they’re three cup sizes bigger and aching 24/7.

You look up at Cassie with a soft yet tired smile. “Hi.”

“I brought you some tea,” Cassie tells you, holding up your favorite mug. She sets it on the side table to the right of the rocking chair. “Do you need anything else?”

“Thank you, Cass. I’m good.”

“Okay.” Cassie crouches down in front of you and rests her hands on your knees. Her thumbs draw gentle circles on your skin. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“I’m fine, just really tired.”

Cassie nods and glances from you to Piper. “She’s getting sleepy,” Cassie notes.

“Mhm.”

Piper nurses for a few more seconds before passing out in your arms. You rub your thumb along her side, admiring your little creation. Piper’s tiny tongue darts out past her lips for a moment. She’s just the cutest baby you’ve ever seen.

“Do you want me to take her so you can shower, baby?”

You look to Cassie and nod before looking back to Piper. “Yeah,” you whisper.

Carefully, you hand Piper to Cassie. You wish you could hold your baby in your arms forever, but you know you have to take care of yourself too, and that she has another mommy who loves her just as much.

“Hi, my baby,” Cassie coos as she takes Piper from you. “You’re just a sleepy little girl. Yes, you are.”

You smile at your girls as you stand up. Cassie lightly bounces Piper in her arms, enough to soothe her but not to wake her. Piper’s tiny hand grips Cassie’s shirt which melts your heart. You kiss Piper’s head and then Cassie’s cheek before walking away to the bathroom.

But before you get very far, Cassie says your name, stopping you. “Come here.”

You take a couple steps back. “Yeah?”

Cassie smiles at you, and then leans down, pressing her lips against yours. You grab into her bicep as she kisses you. When she breaks the kiss, your face is only a few inches away from Cassie’s.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply before giving Cassie another quick kiss.

“Now, go shower, baby.”

You nod and squeeze Cassie’s bicep. “Mkay.” Before you go, you kiss Piper’s head again, her newborn baby smell intoxicating. “Bye bye, Pipes.”

Then, you go to the bathroom and take a quick shower. Your last shower was more than 24 hours ago, so make sure to wash yourself well. If you weren’t so tired, you would’ve stayed in longer.

When you get out, you comb your hair and throw it into a quick braid. This way it won’t be in the way while you hold and nurse Piper, and you won’t have to do anything to make your hair look nice — when you take the braid out, your hair will be crimped.

You come back into your bedroom wrapped up your towel for warmth. You spot Cassie rocking Piper in her arms, about to set her in her crib you guys have in your bedroom. There’s another crib in the nursery, but both you and Cassie prefer to have Piper sleep in the same room as you two. It doesn’t just put your mind at ease, but it’s more practical too.

As quiet as possible, you slip into a pair of loose pajama pants and a comfortable nursing t-shirt. There’s slits over your breasts to make it easy to breastfeed. It was one of your gifts from your baby shower, and it’s been making nursing — especially midnight nursing — so much easier. You’re pretty sure it was gifted to you by Al-Hashimi, but your brain has been so busy and foggy lately, you can’t remember for sure.

You had just finished putting your shirt on when you feel Cassie’s arms wrap around your waist. She presses kisses along your shoulder up to your neck until she reaches your cheek.

“You wanna go to bed?” Cassie murmurs against your skin.

You turn around in Cassie’s arms and put yours around her neck while hers settle around your waist. “Yeah,” you whisper before kissing Cassie.

Cassie rubs your hips and lower back, her touch comforting and tender. As the kiss breaks, she gives your waist an affectionate squeeze before letting go. “C’mon,” Cassie tells you as she grabs your wrist and brings you to the bed.

All of a sudden, there’s a soft knock on your bedroom door. Cassie lets go of your wrist and looks at you. She nods to the bed with a small smile, silently telling you to get comfortable while she opens the door.

You climb into bed while Cassie answers the door. She opens it, light from the hallway peering in. “Yeah, buddy?” Cassie asks Harrison.

“I just wanted to see the baby.”

Cassie smiles at her son and ruffles his hair. “She’s sleeping so just be quiet, okay,” Cassie tells Harrison as she opens the door wider so he can walk through.

Harrison speed walks over to the bassinet and peaks at his baby sister. She’s wearing a onesie be picked out. It’s sage green, Harrison’s favorite color, and says little sister on it in white text.

“Aww look at how she’s sleeping.”

Cassie walks over to Harrison and slides her hands into her sweatpants pockets. “You used to sleep curled up like that too.”

“Really?” Harrison asks.

“Yup. It’s crazy that you were once as little as Piper.”

“And it’s crazy Piper will one day be as big as you are now,” you chime in from the bed.

“But then that means I’ll be old!”

You and Cassie both laugh quietly at Harrison’s comment. “Relax, bud, you’re only going to be 23 when Piper’s your age,” you reply.

“Yeah, and that’s old.”

Cassie pulls one hand out from her pocket and rubs Harrison’s back. “It’s really not though. You’ll be old when you’re my age.”

Harrison turns to his mom and raises his eyebrows sassily. “You’re only saying that because you’re super old.”

A laugh escapes you, and you bring a hand over your mouth to muffle it. Cassie smiles and shakes her head at you and Harrison. “Hey, I’m not a grandma at least,” Cassie says as she tugs Harrison to her side.

“I’ll get right on that,” Harrison jokes. “Then you’ll feel really, really old.”

“I have a wife and newborn to keep me young. And you’re not having a kid anytime soon,” Cassie teases back before kissing the top of Harrison’s head. “Did you brush your teeth already?”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

“Don’t be giving me attitude,” Cassie says through a chuckle. “I’m letting you stay up until 9:30, but no screens past 8:30.”

You grab your phone and check the time. “It’s 8:40 right now,” you tell them.

“So you can read or build Lego’s or something until then.”

“But mom—”

“Bupbupbup, do you want to go to bed at 9:00 like usual?”

“Fine,” Harrison grumbles. “See you in the morning.”

He pulls his mom into a hug, and Cassie kisses his forehead as he pulls back. Harrison then looks at Piper once again. He gently boops her nose, and then leaves your bedroom.

A soft yawn falls from your mouth as Cassie approaches the bed. She climbs in onto her side, and instantly wraps her arms around you, pulling you to her. Cassie’s front is flush against your back, and she rests a hand on your stomach. It’s definitely decreased in size since giving birth, but it’s nowhere near your normal. Cassie lazily traces lines and circles on your loose skin there.

“I love seeing Harrison be a big brother,” Cassie admits.

“Me too. He’s the sweetest boy.”

Smiling into your hair, Cassie hums in agreement. “I’m lucky to have him.” She then presses a kiss to your temple. “And Piper.” She gives you another kiss, but this time on your cheek. “And you.”

With a soft smile, you close your eyes. “I’m lucky that I have you all too.”

“I love you,” Cassie whispers before shutting her own eyes.

“I love you too.”

Then, your body becomes heavier with sleep. It doesn’t take too long until you start to drift off. Within 10 minutes, you’re fast asleep. Cassie protectively holds you to her and keeps soothingly drawing lazy shapes on your belly as you rest.

May 30, 2025 — one month

Piper’s already a month old.

It feels like just yesterday that you were pregnant. Now, you have a baby who’s coming out of the newborn stage. Life just feels so unreal — good, but unreal.

There’s been a learning period, one you’re still in, but you’ve been getting a hang of things. Since Cassie’s already been through this, she’s been a huge help. Although, she is still learning with you since it’s been a while and it’s a new experience for her. Cassie is a mom to a new baby, but this time she didn’t give birth.

When it comes to nursing, your goal is to breastfeed for at least two years. Not only is it cheaper, but it’s better for the baby. Your milk is nutritional, provides antibodies, and it’s a bonding experience for you and Piper.

With Harrison, Cassie barely managed to breastfeed for 14 months. Like you, she wanted to go longer, but life was hard and breastfeeding is difficult. Cassie is supportive of your breastfeeding plan, and she supports whatever pathway you will end up taking.

Today, Cassie wanted to take you out. It’s hard to go places with a newborn, so she wanted something simple. Since Harrison is here this week, him, you, Cassie, and Piper are all going out to lunch.

You’re walking up to one of your favorite cafes. Cassie has the diaper bag while you hold Piper. As you walk, Cassie keeps a hand on your lower back. Harrison is on Cassie’s other side, happily skipping.

When you enter the restaurant, you learn that there’s a 5-10 minute wait. You, Cassie, and Harrison sit on an indoor cushioned bench while you wait for a table.

“Can I hold her?” Harrison eagerly asks with an adorable smile.

“Yeah, bud.” You lift Piper then. “Do you wanna go see your big brother?” you coo.

Carefully, you hand Piper to Harrison. He sets her on his lap and supports her properly. Already, this kid knew what he was doing. He keeps an arm around Piper while is other hand plays with Piper’s. She wraps her tiny hand around one of Harrison’s fingers.

“Look!” Harrison excitedly tells you and Cassie, turning to look at you both.

You extend a hand and tickle Piper’s stomach. “She loves her big brother,” you say in a baby voice. “Yes, you do.”

Cassie smiles and pulls her phone out. “You’re such a good brother, bud.” She then snaps a picture of Piper on Harrison’s lap grabbing one of his fingers.

It doesn’t take very long until a table is ready. Cassie takes Piper from Harrison as you follow a hostess to a table. You’re seated at a half booth, half normal table. You and Cassie slide into the booth while Harrison sits across from you in a chair.

You order drinks, and then look at the menu. You were already pretty sure of what you were going to get, but you decide to refresh your memory on the menu anyways. Harrison decides on a personalized mini pizza — not surprising to you and Cassie in the slightest.

The waitress eventually comes back to take your orders. Once she leaves, Piper starts to whine in Cassie’s arms. Cassie bounces her and coos sympathetically.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” Piper grabs Cassie’s hair, tugging on the auburn strand. “Are you hungry? Is that it?”

You take Piper from Cassie while Cassie opens up the diaper bag. She pulls out a nursing blanket to cover you. Cassie makes sure you’re comfortable, and then you begin to feed Piper.

But five minutes in, a bald white man who appears to be in his 50’s leaves his table of two other men that are likely his sons. He approaches you and your family.

“Hi. You shouldn’t be… breastfeeding in public,” the man says, the word breastfeeding coming out hesitantly like a dirty word.

“I’m feeding my kid,” you reply.

“We’re trying to eat lunch here. This is a restaurant,” the man says firmly yet there’s some nerves behind his voice.

Cassie looks up at the man with a blank stare. “You’re correct, this is a lunch place. My baby’s having lunch.” She leans forward slightly. “Is that a problem?”

“We don’t wanna see that,” he says as he gestures to you and Piper.

Harrison turns around to look at the man. He stares at him for a few moments, completely dumbfounded. “Then don’t look,” Harrison says with a little bit of attitude like the solution is that obvious.

“What my son said,” Cassie tells the man proudly. “Stop looking at my wife. Problem solved. My baby’s just trying to eat, same as you.”

Just then, your waitress appears with your food. She starts to sets the plates down as she examines the situation. “Is there a problem here, sir?”

“I-we don’t want to see this,” he says, motioning to you and Piper again.

You exchange a knowing look with the waitress as she sets your food in front of you. “Sir, she’s just feeding her baby. She’s covered, there’s not an issue here.”

“They’re not going to get kicked out over this?” The man scoffs and shakes his head. “Back in my day this was unacceptable.”

“We’re not in your day, old man.”

You nearly choke on the water you were sipping as Harrison says that. Cassie brings a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. The waitress even suppresses a smile.

“If anything, you’re the one who’s going to be asked to leave. You’re disturbing these customers, and frankly, it could count as harassment. I recommend going back to your table and enjoying your lunch quietly unless you want to be removed.”

The man’s chest rises and falls in anger. He stays standing there, not speaking. When he finally does, he attempts to make his voice as even as possible, but you can hear the frustration seeping through.

“Fine. Enjoy your lunch.”

After the man walks away, you look at your amazing waitress. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“That was really cool of you,” Cassie adds.

The waitress smiles and gives you both an appreciative nod. “Is there anything else I can get you?” You, Cassie, and Harrison all shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to bring you guys a slice of pie. On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Why are you turning down free dessert?” Harrison exclaims, cutting you off.

Cassie chuckles and looks to the waitress. “That would great, thank you.” She smiles before walking back to the kitchen.

After Piper finishes feeding, Cassie takes her from you so you can finish eating. The waitress comes back with a huge slice of lemon meringue pie and three forks just as you finish your meal. You, Cassie, and Harrison dig in while Piper falls asleep on Cassie’s free arm.

April 21, 2026 — one year

Piper’s first birthday is approaching, and you can’t believe you almost have a one year old. The last two years have been surreal — your IVF journey, pregnancy, and having a baby all feel so long ago yet just like it was yesterday.

For your daughter’s birthday, you and Cassie decided to throw a small party with close friends and family. It was more so for you guys than Piper since Piper won’t even remember her first birthday. The party is tomorrow, and you’re emotional over it.

Piper took her first steps a couple days ago, so you’re in the living room encouraging her to do it again when you hear the doorbell. Neil is coming over to pick Harrison up to go see a movie. You stand and swoop Piper up, pretending like she’s a plane which makes her giggle. Piper’s on your hip as you answer the door.

You greet Neil with a warm smile. “Hey.”

“Hi, sweetie.” He steps inside and kisses the top of your head. Then, he puts his attention on Piper. “How’s my only granddaughter doing?” Neil asks, you’re already handing Piper to him.

Neil blows bubbles into her stomach, making her laugh. You’ll never get tired of hearing your baby’s sweet giggles. While Piper may not have Cassie’s genes, she somehow inherited her endearing cackle.

“Dad!” Cassie says as she enters the living room. She walks up to your side. “I would hug you, but you want to hug my kid more.”

He chuckles, his eyes still on Piper. “She’s just too cute. You’ve grown out of it,” Neil jokes as he makes silly faces at Piper.

You grab onto Cassie’s arm, holding her to your side. “I don’t know about that, Cassie’s still pretty cute.”

She looks at you only to find you already staring at her with a fond smile. Cassie chuckles and leans down to kiss you. When she pulls back, you kiss her nose before turning back to Neil and Piper.

“But there’s something about baby cute that can’t be topped,” you coo as you boop Piper’s nose.

As you make contact with Piper, she reaches towards you. Neil laughs and shake his head, handing her back to you.

“Mom beats grandpa I suppose,” Neil jokes as he goes to pull Cassie into a hug.

Then, Harrison comes running in. “Grandpa!” He practically pushes Cassie out of the way to hug Neil.

Immediately, Neil’s arms wrap around Harrison. “Hey, Harry. You’re getting tall.”

“I don’t like it,” you say with a chuckle.

Cassie ruffles Harrison’s hair as she says, “I’m not ready for him to be taller than me.”

Piper reaches over and grabs Cassie’s hair, gently tugging. You laugh and kiss Piper’s cheek. “You wanna go to your mama?”

“C’mere, baby.” Cassie takes Piper from you, and Piper lays her head on Cassie’s chest almost instantly.

Piper then reaches for you again, extending an arm in your direction. “Mommy,” she babbles, a slight whine to her voice.

You take Piper’s hand as Cassie holds Piper to her chest. “I’m right here, Pipes.”

Cassie rocks Piper back and forth as she continues to grip onto your hand. Harrison puts on his shoes on to leave for the movie with Neil. Before they go, Neil pets Piper’s head and kisses her cheek.

“Can you say buh-bye?” Cassie asks as she gives a small wave to her dad.

Piper waves and a small smile grows on her face. “Bye-bye, Grampy.”

Your heart melts at that. Instinctively, you lean your head on Cassie’s shoulder. All of you say your goodbyes, and then the boys leave.

“Nap time,” Cassie says.

Piper whines in protest. Cassie rubs her back and soothingly shushes her. “We’re gonna take a nap,” she tells Piper softly.

“Rude,” she babbles. Most people wouldn’t be able to make out what Piper said, but you and Cassie can since you’re her moms.

You’re not sure where she got it from, but Piper’s favorite word is “rude.” She says it whenever she’s annoyed or upset. Piper may only say it when she’s irritated, it’s absolutely adorable to you and Cassie.

You and Cassie head to the nursery. Cassie places Piper in her crib while you turn on white noise and the baby monitor. Then, you walk over to the crib where your girls are. Piper’s annoyed, but you can tell she’s tired and will be out like a light soon.

Cassie wraps an arm around your side, her hand resting on your waist. She kisses you for a few moments, and you smile against her addicting lips.

“My mommy,” Piper suddenly says.

You and Cassie both laugh softly. “My mommy,” Cassie teases back, then pressing a long kiss to your cheek.

“Close your eyes, Pipes.” You reach down in the crib and place a hand on Piper’s stomach, your touch gentle and comforting. Then, Cassie pulls a lightweight blanket over Piper.

You’re surprised by how quick she’s able to go to sleep. Piper is teething, and her seventh tooth is growing in. A few minutes pass of you and Cassie watching Piper, and then you two leave the nursery.

You’re about to go back to the living room when Cassie grabs your hand. You look at her and see a playful look on her face. You smile, knowing Cassie’s up to something.

“Yes?”

“Come here,” she says as she pulls you to the bedroom.

At first you think it’s for sex, but Cassie goes to her nightstand and pulls out something from her bottom drawer — not a strap or some other sex toy. Instead, it’s a thick, bulky book.

“Here, baby.”

You take the book from Cassie. When you look down at the cover, it reads One Year of Piper Carson McKay. Carson was your and Cassie’s top pick for a boy name, and since it’s fairly gender neutral, that’s what you chose for Piper’s middle name.

“It’s a scrapbook,” Cassie says with a shrug like it’s no big deal.

Your fingers trace the cover image. It’s a picture of Piper from the day you took her home. She’s wearing a onesie your mom bought, and she has the tiniest smile.

“Piper doesn’t need any gifts right now, so this is your gift for her first birthday.”

Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You sit at the edge of the bed and open the book. The first page is about pregnancy. There’s a photo of the four pregnancy tests you took. There’s also a mirror picture you took of you and Cassie from when you were about two months pregnant. She’s behind you, her hands over your small baby bump.

“Cassie…”

A single tear rolls down your cheek.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby.” Cassie wipes the tear away with her knuckles, gently caressing your skin.

“Thank you, Cass.”

She rests her head against yours. “You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” you reply immediately.

“I’m glad.”

Cassie looks at the scrapbook with you. You’re slow about turning pages, wanting to take in every details. Cassie made a whole page dedicated to outfits you put together for Piper, all of your personal favorites included.

Your daughter is one tomorrow. One.

Flipping through the memories of this last year is bittersweet. You’re sad that it went by so fast, but you’re excited for the future.

And you’re so glad it’s with Cassie.

You’ve built a family with her.

Just you, Cassie, Harrison, and Piper — your whole world.

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