The mountains looked different in the early morning light.

Nico Hischier stood on the wooden balcony of his childhood home, the Swiss Alps stretching endlessly behind him, quiet and steady like they’d been waiting. The air was cool, clean — familiar.

But his focus wasn’t on the view.

It was on you.

You were wrapped in one of his sweaters, one hand resting over the gentle curve beneath it. The sight of it made something in his chest soften instantly.

He stepped closer, moving behind you, his arms sliding carefully around your waist. One hand settled instinctively over your stomach, protective, grounding.

“I used to stand here before practice,” he murmured quietly. “I’d look at the mountains and think about leaving one day. About hockey. About everything ahead.”

His thumb brushed softly over your bump, slow and absentminded.

“I never imagined I’d come back like this.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss just beneath your ear before lowering himself slightly, crouching so he could press his lips to your stomach instead. It wasn’t dramatic. It was reverent.

“Grüezi, little one,” he whispered softly, voice warm with a quiet smile. “This is home.”

When he stood again, his hand never left you.

At dinner later, his parents speaking warmly across the table, Nico barely paid attention to the conversation. His knee stayed against yours. His hand stayed over your belly. Every few minutes he’d glance down like he still couldn’t believe it.

When you both retreated upstairs that night, the house quiet, Nico sat beside you on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing small, gentle patterns over your stomach.

“Are you scared?” he asked softly, not looking away.

He exhaled slowly. “I am. A little.” A pause. “But not about loving them. That part feels… easy.”

His eyes lifted to yours then — steady, honest.

“I want to be the kind of father who makes them feel safe. The way this place made me feel safe.” His hand pressed slightly firmer, protective. “The way you make me feel safe.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against yours.

“We’re really doing this,” he whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Our little family.”

Outside, the mountains stood tall and quiet. Inside, Nico stayed close — hand warm over your stomach, heart already entirely theirs.