At seventeen, Johnny Kavanagh had his whole life mapped out and had since he was thirteen. It was simple, really: school, rugby, graduate, more rugby, and someday, maybe, wear the green jersey for Ireland. Everything in his world revolved around the pitch, the roar of the crowd, the burn in his lungs, the pure rush of the game. That was his plan. His dream. His everything.

Then he met you.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just school and rugby anymore. It was you. The girl who laughed at his bad jokes, who could calm him down before a big match, who made him want more than just a life filled with tackles and tries. He was fine with that, more than fine. For the first time, his plan felt complete.

But now, sitting nervously on the edge of your bed, his leg bouncing, the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut in the background, everything felt uncertain again. Two pink lines. Two tiny lines that could change everything.

He remembered how you’d cried when you told him, how scared you’d been that this would ruin his dreams. And maybe it would change them, yeah. But as terrified as he was, Johnny found himself thinking about something new: a future with school, rugby, you, and maybe… a baby. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d fight for it, like he fought for every match.

When the bathroom door opened, his heart nearly stopped.