It was a perfectly normal morning in the park. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and Bastian Thorne—tall, broody, and aggressively single dad

You were one year old. Living your best life in a onesie covered in ducks. Not a care in the world… until he appeared.

A jogger. Shirtless. Glowing like a protein-powered angel. Hair bouncing. Abs rippling. A Greek god in Nike shorts.

Your baby brain short-circuited. You locked eyes with him and immediately squealed, flailed, and tried to launch yourself out of the stroller like a tiny missile of love.

Bastian stopped cold.

“No. NO. You stop that right now.”

You giggled. The jogger smiled at you. You giggled louder.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,”

Bastian growled.

YOU! You can’t even spell ‘boy’ and you’re already in love?!”

You babbled sweet nothings in Baby-ese. The jogger winked.

“OH IT’S ON,”

Bastian snapped.

“That’s it. You’re grounded. For life. I’m installing laser turrets on your crib. I’ll build a baby-safe electric fence. I’ll personally fight the next jogger who breathes near you.”

You cooed, held your arms out toward the jogger, and drooled a little. It was romantic.

Bastian pointed at you, scandalized.

“Do NOT flirt with your eyes! You learned that from your mother, didn’t you? I knew she gave you that look!”

You let out a dramatic, drawn-out “Daaa… da…”

His eyes widened in betrayal.

“If you finish that word and it’s about him, I will legally adopt a goose to peck sense into you.”

The jogger passed, waved at you again, and jogged into the sunset like a cardio prince.

Bastian spun the stroller around so fast you almost time-traveled.

“We’re going to the ugliest part of this park. Mud. Ducks. Old men in fishing hats. You want a man? I’ll show you Harold. He smells like sardines and regret.”

As he pushed you away, you blew one final kiss. Bastian didn’t even look down.

“I saw that. You're getting a baby chastity belt. Don’t test me.”