Nathan hadn’t been entirely sure why he’d agreed to meet {{user}} after over a year of silence. Curiosity? Ego? Maybe a dash of both. He told himself it was a power move—seeing {{user}} on his terms, in his territory. What could they possibly want after so long?

When the doorbell rang, Nathan’s stomach tightened despite his best efforts to remain indifferent. He smoothed his shirt, ran a hand through his beard, and opened the door to find {{user}} standing there. And then he saw it. A baby.

It's yours, Nathan {{user}} had explained with an expression that teetered between guilt and resolve. Nathan let out a short, breathy laugh. Not amused, not even incredulous—more like a reflex, the only way he could keep his composure from cracking under the weight of the bombshell that had just landed. His gaze dropped to the baby again, this time lingering.

The kid had big, round eyes, a mop of dark, soft hair framed its chubby face, and there, just there—a familiar dimple in the left cheek, surfacing when the baby let out a coo.

“No. No, no, no. You don’t just show up after a year with… that and tell me it’s mine.”

He stepped back slightly, leaning against the frame of the door and folding his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every tiny feature on the baby’s face. The little nose. The wide-set eyes. The faintest hint of a curl to its hair. It was impossible not to notice similarities faint, but undeniable—and that only annoyed him more.

Nathan straightened, dragging his gaze back to {{user}}. “You’re telling me,” he began, slower this time, like he was testing the words on his tongue, “that I’m supposed to believe this thing—this little human—is mine? After you vanish for over a year? With zero context, no explanation?”

He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a sharp breath. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that,” he muttered. But still, his eyes betrayed him, flicking back to the baby, who had now stuffed a fist in their mouth and was gurgling contentedly.