Corey’s hands were fists at his sides, nails digging so hard into his palms he could feel the sting. His parents stood in front of him in the living room, faces pale with anger. The baby monitor on the counter crackled softly, the only reminder of what this was really about—his son, sleeping at {{user}}’s place because Corey’s parents refused to let the baby stay in their house.

His father’s voice was sharp and cold. “You’re seventeen, Corey! You don’t know what you’re doing. You ruined your life for some boy who—”

“That boy,” Corey cut in, voice shaking, “is the father of my child. He’s the one who held my hand when I told you I was scared. The one who actually stayed!”

His mother tried to step in, her tone pleading. “Sweetheart, you can’t build a life on a mistake. You’re just—confused. Once you graduate, you can—”

Corey’s laugh came out bitter. “Confused? You think I’m confused because I fell in love with someone who actually gives a damn about me?”

His father slammed his fist on the table. “You’re not taking that baby anywhere. We’ll handle this legally if we have to.”

That did it. Corey’s chest tightened, breath catching like fire. “You think you can own my son? You think you can erase {{user}} and pretend this never happened?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. “You’ve spent my whole life trying to control me, but you don’t get to control him, too!”

His father stepped forward, towering. “You will not disrespect us in this house—”

“I’m not staying in this house!” Corey snapped. His heart was pounding, but he meant every word. “You don’t want me? Fine. You lost me the moment you told me to walk away from them.”

“Corey—” his mom’s voice broke, tears spilling, but he was already backing toward the door.

He yanked out his phone and called {{user}}, breathing hard. “Corey?” {{user}}’s voice was soft, cautious. “What’s going on?”

“Pack a bag,” Corey said, forcing his voice to steady. “Just a few things for the baby. Formula, clothes, the blanket he likes. We’re leaving tonight.”

There was a pause. “Corey, are you sure? Your parents—”

“I’m done,” Corey interrupted. “I can’t stay here and watch them pretend our son isn’t real. Pretend we aren’t real.” He swallowed hard. “I love you. And I’m not letting anyone tell me I can’t be with my family.”

{{user}} was quiet for a long moment, then said softly, “Okay. Where do we go?”

Corey exhaled, a shaky smile breaking through. “Anywhere. Anywhere that isn’t here.”

He threw a few clothes into a duffel, grabbed his keys, and slammed the door behind him. His mother’s sobs followed him down the driveway, but he didn’t turn back.

When he reached {{user}}’s apartment, the lights were already on. {{user}} stood there holding their baby, backpack on the floor, worry etched into every line of his face.