I found him in the nursery.
He stood at the window, hands tucked into his pockets, staring out over the glowing city skyline like he was trying to map out the future in the lights below.
I stepped behind him quietly and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my forehead between his shoulder blades. His body stiffened for half a second before softening. His hands came up, covering mine, fingers threading carefully between them.
“We’re not okay yet,” I whispered.
“I know,” he replied.
“But we’re talking.”
“Yeah.”
He turned slowly, pulling me into his chest. His arms wrapped around me tightly, his chin resting on top of my head.
“I’m scared too,” he murmured into my hair. “Scared I’ll never feel it the way you deserve. Scared you’ll leave before I get there.”
I didn’t answer.
Because the truth was too complicated to say out loud.
So I just held him back.
Later that night, we lay in bed, the room dim except for moonlight spilling through the curtains in pale silver lines across the sheets. The air conditioner hummed softly, and the city outside buzzed faintly in the distance.
His hand slid instinctively to my bump, resting there like it belonged.
A kick pressed against his palm almost instantly.
He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against my neck. I turned my head, brushing my lips against his jaw.
“I’m still here,” I whispered.
He pulled me closer, his arm tightening around my waist.
“I’m still trying,” he answered.
We fell asleep tangled together.
Not fixed.
Not broken.
Just… in the middle.
And for the first time in months,
The middle didn’t feel like falling.
It felt like standing.
Unsteady.
Unsure.
But standing.
Chapter 29
