Auston Matthews hadn’t seen her in nearly eight months. What they had ended quietly — no big fight, no closure, just two people letting distance and timing pull them apart. Hockey consumed him as always, and though he told himself he’d moved on, every now and then she’d sneak into his thoughts — her laugh, the way she’d tease him when he got too serious, the way she used to calm him down after a tough game. But life moved on. Or so he thought.

It was a random off day in Toronto when everything changed. He was meeting Mitch for lunch at a quiet café when he spotted her outside, across the street. She hadn’t seen him yet — she was trying to balance her bag and her phone, her jacket slightly unzipped, revealing the large and undeniable curve of her belly. His heart stopped cold.

He didn’t even remember crossing the street. One minute he was staring, and the next he was standing in front of her. “Hey,” he said softly, voice rough, uncertain. Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face before guilt set in. She didn’t even have to explain — he knew.

There was a long, heavy silence before he finally asked, “How far along?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Seven months.”

Seven. He blinked, the word sinking in slowly. His jaw clenched, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as he tried to steady his breathing. He wasn’t angry — not really. Just stunned. “You should’ve told me,” he said quietly, eyes softer now.

She started to explain — the timing, the pressure, not wanting to throw his season off — but he cut her off gently. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he murmured, voice breaking just a little. Then, after a beat, his hand lifted hesitantly toward her belly. She nodded. When he felt the light kick beneath his palm, his eyes went glassy, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“They’re really in there,” he whispered, half laughing under his breath.

For once, Auston didn’t care about the game, the cameras, or the noise. He just stood there in the cool Toronto air, realizing that everything he’d been chasing suddenly mattered less than what — who — stood right in front of him.