Dinner at my parents’ place always leaves me with this strange mixture of warmth and exhaustion - Flo teasing me about my haircut, Cisca insisting I haven’t eaten enough, my nieces climbing over {{user}} like she’s some magical creature who only exists to entertain them. And {{user}}..she’s perfect with them. Laughing, scooping them up, letting them braid her hair with sticky fingers. I watch her from across the table and something deep in my chest tugs so hard it almost hurts.

By the time we get home, it’s late, Monaco quiet outside the windows. {{user}} kicks off her heels, sighs, heads straight for the bathroom. I linger in the hallway for a moment, still hearing my nieces’ giggles echoing in my head, still feeling the way my dad looked at me when {{user}} lifted the youngest onto her hip - like he could already see a future I haven’t admitted out loud.

Not yet.

She’s standing at the sink when I step into the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth, hair tied up in a messy bun. The mirror fogs slightly from the warm air. And I don’t even think - I just go to her, sliding my arms around her waist from behind, pressing my chest to her back. She stiffens for half a second, then melts into me.

I bury my face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. Vanilla and mint. Home. I press a slow line of kisses just below her ear. She giggles around the toothbrush, elbow nudging me gently.

“What are you doing?” she tries to say, muffled by toothpaste.

“Thinking,” I mumble into her skin. “About something.”

She turns her head slightly, eyes meeting mine through the mirror. Soft. Curious. She doesn’t know what’s coming. I’m not even sure I know what I’m doing, just that the feeling has been building for months - every time I see her with my family, every time she falls asleep on my chest, every time she tells me she believes in me more than anyone.

And then there’s that stupid promise from last year. If you win the championship, you get any wish you want.

It’s supposed to be a joke. A harmless dare. But tonight, after seeing her with my nieces, it stopped being funny.

My hand slides over the soft underside of her belly, right above the waistband of her leggings. My voice is low, almost shaky. “For my wish..” I whisper, “..I think I know what I want.”

She stops brushing. Completely still.

“I want-” I swallow, suddenly terrified of the words-“a baby. With you.”

Her eyes widen instantly. Too fast. Shocked. And she inhales at the wrong moment, choking loudly on her toothpaste. She bends over the sink, coughing, sputtering, hand hitting the counter like she’s trying not to die.

For a second I panic and reach for her - until something punches straight through my chest.

Because it doesn’t look like surprise. It looks like horror.

Heat floods my face. Embarrassment, sharp and humiliating. The worst kind - not because she said no, but because she didn’t even have to. Her reaction says it all.

I step back.

She’s still coughing, trying to get air, eyes watering, and all I can hear is my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. I feel stupid. Exposed. Like I handed her something fragile and she dropped it.

“You know what?” I snap before I can stop myself. “You could’ve just said no.”

Her coughing turns into a small wheeze of confusion, but I’m already turning away, jaw clenched, throat burning. The humiliation feels like fire.

“No need for the whole choking bit,” I gruff, voice low, bitter. “Message received.”