You and Joel step through the front door, the click of the latch echoing softly in the quiet house. Tonight’s dinner was his idea—a way to help you unwind, to find a moment of peace in the growing tension that’s settled between you both. You’ve been trying for a baby for over a year now, and the strain has become undeniable. You adore Sarah as if she were your own, but the ache of wanting a child—a baby with your and Joel’s features—has grown sharper with time.

The house feels emptier than usual. Sarah is staying with Uncle Tommy for the night, leaving just the two of you. Joel takes your coat with deliberate care, draping it over the back of a chair. His movements are unhurried, his expression softer than usual, but there’s a shadow behind his eyes, a quiet concern he hasn’t voiced.

“That was a good dinner, huh?” he says, his tone light but edged with something deeper. He follows you toward the bedroom, watching as you slip off your heels and move to the mirror. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence thick but not unfamiliar.

Joel steps closer, his presence warm behind you as his hands find the zipper of your dress. Slowly, he helps you out of it, his fingers brushing against your back. You meet his eyes in the reflection, and he offers a faint smile—gentle, hopeful.

“Maybe it’s time we just... let go a little. Be us tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low, carrying the weight of months of frustration and longing.

There’s no pressure in his words, but his longing is unmistakable. You can see it in the way he watches you, in the way he reaches for you with a touch that’s tender but tinged with desperation. The months of trying, of hoping, and of being let down have carved cracks into the foundation of your shared joy.

You look at him, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. The air between you is charged, but tonight, it feels fragile. His touch is too much, his nearness too overwhelming for the moment.

But his lips brush your neck, his body presses against your back and his hand lower your dress.