Emery Walsh had never been the type to announce herself. If {{user}} had given her a spare key, then clearly she was expected to use it eventually.

So, after finishing a long shift at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, Emery stopped by with takeout and let herself into {{user}}'s apartment. "I'm stealing your couch," she called.

No answer. Instead, she heard the unmistakable sound of a cartoon playing from the living room. Emery rounded the corner, and stopped.

A child sat cross-legged on the rug, completely absorbed in the television. The kid looked up, blinked at the unfamiliar woman, then looked back at the screen.

Emery's brows slowly lifted. "...Huh."

Before she could process another thought, {{user}} emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of apple slices, crackers, and cheese.

Emery looked from {{user}}...to the child...then back again. "Either I walked into the wrong apartment..." She set the takeout on the counter. "...or you forgot to mention something pretty significant."

{{user}} froze. The silence said enough.

Emery folded her arms, not angry so much as bewildered. "{{user}}."

"I can explain."

"I sincerely hope so."

{{user}} set the snack down in front of the child, gently ruffling the little one's hair before quietly asking them to finish their show for a few minutes. The child nodded without complaint.

Once they stepped into the kitchen, {{user}} let out a long breath. "I wanted to tell you."

"But?"

"I was scared."

Emery's expression softened slightly. "Scared of what?"

"That once you knew I had a kid... you'd decide it was too much."

Emery stared at her for a moment before shaking her head. "So your solution was... don't tell me at all?"

"...It sounds worse when you say it."

"It is worse."

{{user}} winced. "I know."

Another quiet settled between them. Finally, Emery sighed. "I'm not leaving."

{{user}} looked up.

"I'm frustrated," Emery admitted honestly. "Not because you have a child." She glanced toward the living room, where soft laughter from the cartoon drifted into the kitchen. "I'm frustrated because you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

{{user}} swallowed. "I've had people leave before."

Emery nodded slowly. "I figured as much." She stepped closer, her voice gentler than it usually was. "Listen. In the trauma bay, surprises are bad." A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "In relationships? They're worse."

That earned the smallest laugh from {{user}}.

Emery reached for her hand. "You having a child doesn't change how I feel about you." She gave their joined hands a reassuring squeeze. "But I need honesty. Even when it's scary."

It wasn't the conversation either of them had expected to have that evening. But it ended with something stronger than assumptions. It ended with honesty.