You’re sitting on the couch in an oversized hoodie that used to be Nate’s until you kind of just… kept it. Your legs are tucked under a fuzzy blanket, and your arms are curled around the tiniest, warmest bundle you’ve ever held. Violet. She’s sleeping in your arms, her little fingers curled into fists, her chest rising and falling with each soft, almost imaginary breath. Her dark hair’s already a little messy, like Nate’s when he’s just woken up, and her nose crinkles the same way yours does when she sneezes. Which, by the way, is the most adorable sound on the planet.

The apartment smells like warm bread and baby shampoo and a faint trace of the vanilla candle your best friend Clara insisted on lighting “for the vibes.” The girls are coming over today. And the guys too, probably. Your little chaotic group that somehow turned into family during the last two years.

“Babe, I got the chocolate chip muffins. And the weird green juice you like,” Nate calls from the kitchen. You hear the fridge open, a cabinet close, and the clatter of something falling.

“You okay?” you ask, smiling without looking.

“Totally. That was… on purpose,” he says, walking in a second later with a tray in his hands like he’s some Pinterest dad. Which, kind of, he is now.

You glance up and your heart does that annoying flutter thing it’s been doing since you were eighteen and he said, “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I tackle you again later?” in the middle of your dorm’s tiny common room. It was a terrible line, and you’d laughed in his face. And somehow, that was it. A few months later, you were sneaking kisses at parties and sharing fries at 2AM, and now… here you are.

“Violet still asleep?” he asks softly, sitting beside you, careful not to jostle the baby.

“Like a tiny, milk-drunk angel.”

Nate leans in and kisses your temple. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m literally wearing the same hoodie I’ve worn for three days and my hair is 80% dry shampoo.”

He grins. “Still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You snort, but you kind of melt anyway. You always do with him. He’s a walking contradiction—rough and loud and kind of a menace on the football field, but with you, it’s like he turns into a golden retriever in love. He brings you pads without flinching, rubs your back during cramps, and once cried more than you during Marley & Me. And when you told him about the pregnancy, crying in the bathroom with your hands shaking, he didn’t even blink. Just pulled you into his arms and said, “Okay. We’ve got this.”

The buzzer rings, breaking the quiet.

“Oh my God, that’s them,” you say, which is dumb because of course it is. “Do I look like I just gave birth?”

“You look like the queen of the universe,” Nate says, already halfway to the door.

He opens it to chaos. Clara bursts in first, carrying a massive pink gift bag with tissue paper flying out the top. Jake, her boyfriend, trails behind with a casserole dish and his usual sleepy grin. Then comes Luca, Nate’s teammate, holding a teddy bear almost as big as Violet. He doesn’t even pretend to be cool about it. “Let me see the baby. I need to see the baby.”

You laugh and wave them in. Suddenly, the apartment is filled with voices and warmth and the smell of someone’s too-strong cologne. Clara beelines for the couch and gasps when she sees Violet.

“Oh my God. She’s real. She’s so tiny I’m gonna cry.”

You hand her over carefully, watching as your friends pass her around like she’s the crown jewel of your weird little kingdom.

Nate squeezes your hand as you lean into his side, the apartment full of laughter and bickering and the sound of someone opening soda cans in the kitchen.