#imaginesresidentevil

What If he had a baby with you ?

The rain outside wasn’t as heavy as it had been in the morning, but that wasn’t a problem—we were cozy under the warm blanket. The small clock hanging on the wall read 8:37 PM. A tiny version of me and Leon was sleeping among soft blankets, like a little bird’s nest. Her skin was still pink, her eyes barely open enough to see our faces. She could only recognize us by our scent.

Leon was leaning on his arm, admiring the little human in front of him. His bicep was on full display from holding up his head—that view was still my favorite. He looked so proud of himself, of what he had helped create. Leon seemed happier, less weighed down by work. His boss had finally given him a well-deserved vacation. The way this man works… it’s something beyond words. Maybe the pregnancy had been, unintentionally, the salvation of our relationship. The baby girl was a huge and unexpected surprise in our lives.

Leon and I had argued to the point of going to bed without even looking at each other. I don’t blame him for the job he has, nor do I want him to think I don’t support his passion. But our alone time had been counted down before the pregnancy even began. I’d blink, and Leon was already in another city. Waking up with his side of the bed empty used to sadden me, but we never talked about it. I didn’t want to ruin the family moment with more fights.

These past months, he was deeply disturbed by the idea—now the reality—that he was going to be a father. It took days for it to sink in. Leon was hard on himself, constantly worrying how he’d raise a child in a world full of zombies and monsters. And, like always, the first thing we did… was argue.

The small test trembled in my hands. My palms were sweaty, my heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. Two bright pink lines. Clear. Screaming. The fourth time. I still couldn’t believe it, even though they all said the same thing.

How am I going to tell Leon?

He’s going to freak out. Say we’re not ready, that the world out there is rotten, dangerous. Say I was irresponsible. Maybe even say I ruined everything.

I left the bathroom feeling nauseous, a wave of heat rushing from my chest to my face. I took off my hoodie with trembling hands. The day suddenly felt less cold—or maybe it was just panic.

Leon was on the couch, focused, turning a tiny screwdriver inside an old walkie-talkie he found among the base’s old stuff. He looked peaceful. The kind of peace about to be shattered.

I sat beside him, hiding the test in my hoodie sleeve. I sank into the cushion, trying to breathe slowly. But Leon, always alert, always reading my silences, turned to me.

— “Did something happen?” — he asked, still half-focused on the device.

— “Leon…” — I swallowed hard. — “Do you still think about having kids?”

He froze. Slowly put the walkie-talkie down and looked at me, brow furrowed.

— “What do you mean? We’ve talked about this.”

— “I know… but what if it happened, like… now?”

— “‘Now’ how?” — his voice grew tense, suspicious. — “What kind of question is that?”

— “Just answer, please.” — I stared at the floor. — “Would you want it?”

— “Of course I would. But not now. Not in this world. Not with how things are! We’ve talked about this a thousand times, remember?”

I took a deep breath. It was now or never. I held the test out to him, almost tossing it onto his lap.

— “It happened.”

Leon picked it up, confused. His eyes widened when he saw the two lines. Silence dropped like a weight.

— “You’re kidding me?” — he asked, sharply.

— “Do I look like I’m kidding?!” — I raised my voice. — “You think I wanted this right now? That I planned it?”

— “But how did this happen? We were careful! You said you were taking the pills!”

— “I did, and I was!” — I snapped back, anger rising. — “No method is one hundred percent! Do you think I did this on purpose?”

— “I’m just trying to understand, dammit!” — he stood up, pacing the room. Ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. — “Do you realize what this means?”

— “More than you think,” — I said, my voice cracking. — “I’m the one who threw up three mornings in a row. I’m the one who sat there for hours wondering if I had the courage to take another test. I carried this weight alone for days, scared of your reaction. And there she is now.”

— “You should’ve told me earlier,” — he said flatly.

— “I didn’t hide it! I just didn’t know how to tell you! You keep saying there’s no time for even the two of us, that the world’s a mess, that a baby now would be a burden! How was I supposed to tell you that, seeing you falling apart every night?”

Silence.

He sat down again, head in his hands. The test trembled between his fingers. His face was red. I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or fear.

— “I just…” — he sighed. — “I’m not ready for this.”

— “Neither am I,” — I whispered. — “But it’s happening. It’s already happening.”

He looked at me. Something in his gaze softened.

— “I’m so scared I won’t be able to protect you both… that I’ll fail.”

— “Then don’t fail. Stay. Fight with us. Argue with me if you have to, but don’t leave me alone.”

And in that moment, even with all the fear and chaos between us, we knew we had already chosen. We’d face it together. With fear, with anger, with love — but together.

Leon turned from our daughter and looked at me. His bright blue eyes sparkled.

— “You’re the most beautiful mother in the world,” — he said, smiling softly.

I smiled back.

— “And you’re the happiest dad.”

— “My fingers are trapped in these little chubby ones. I wish I could kiss you right now.” — I looked down and saw his index finger tightly gripped by our baby, as if she never wanted to let go of her dad.

— “She definitely has your eyes,” — I said.

— “She had to take after the prettiest in the family, don’t you think?” — he chuckled.

— “You’re ridiculous,” — I rolled my eyes.

The baby finally released Leon’s finger, which was now red from the pressure. He stood slowly and came to me, offering his hand.

— “Leon, she just fell asleep. You’re really going to leave her alone?”

— “She’s fed. She’s probably sleeping like a rock now.” — And she really was. She rarely woke unless her diaper was dirty or she was hungry—normal things. Leon pulled me down the hallway, gently closing the door behind us, but left it slightly open just in case. In a quick move, his warm hands cupped my face, and he kissed me deeply. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his soft blond hair. We were both starved for each other.

His hands gripped my waist, squeezing like he was begging for more. Our lungs were pleading for air, but I wouldn’t have let go if not for the need to breathe. Leon leaned into the curve of my neck. He looked exhausted. Just two days before the birth, he had been finishing a mission.

— “I smell you everywhere… in this house, in my office, at work. I miss you at work,” — he said, pulling me close like I might disappear. But I’d never run from his arms. We belonged to each other. He trailed kisses from my neck to my cheek, and pressed his soft lips against mine again. I cupped his face, deepening the kiss.

— “I miss you too, Leon S. Kennedy,” — I murmured, gently stroking his soft hair.

Then we heard a cry.

— “Oh no, not now… your mom just started the good part,” — he groaned, clinging to me.

— “Come on, Leon. I need to see what she needs.” — I slipped from his arms with a smile and went to the bed, lifting the baby. — “You’re not hungry… you just ate…” — But it was a hungry cry. How strange, knowing how to tell those apart now. I quickly unbuttoned my pajamas, and she latched like she hadn’t eaten in hours.

— “Can I consider myself lucky for having this view all to myself? Your breasts look amazing like this.”

— “Leon!”

— “Sorry, but they’re art. I’d never let them hang in a museum.” — He sat next to me, watching the baby feed. — “You made a little dragon.”

— “Don’t forget you made this little dragon first, handsome.”

— “I’m gonna finish reading the files from that old case while I wait for sleep. Since you’re busy, I’ll just... fantasize about you.” — He smirked. I knew exactly what kind of fantasies.

— “Leon! She’s listening!” — I frowned.

— “She doesn’t even know what ‘Leon’ is yet, silly.” — I rolled my eyes as he left the room. I stayed there, nursing our daughter.