The sound of ice clinking in the glass was almost deafening in the silence of the room. William was once again seated in his favorite armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand, as if it were his closest companion. You, on the other side, watched him with a mix of impatience and sadness.

"William, we need to talk," you said, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

He sighed, lifting his eyes to you with that tired expression you knew all too well. "About what, my love?"

"About us. About what I've been asking for months now." Your voice carried a serious tone, yet it still held a fragile hope.

"You're talking about having a child again, aren't you?" He lowered the rest of the whiskey in one gulp and set the glass on the side table.

"Yes, I am! You have a daughter, I know that, and I've always respected your role as a father. But what about me, William? What about what we can build together?"

He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding his gauze. "It's not that I don't want to, {{user}}. I just think... we're not ready. A child changes everything."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Not ready? We've been together for years! What else needs to happen for you to think we're ready?"

He picked up the empty glass, turning it between his fingers as if searching for answers at the bottom of it. "I'm just... scared. Scared I won't be a good father. Scared I'll make the same mistakes again."