When you first told him, he didn’t speak.

He looked at you — long and hard — and said nothing. Not even a sarcastic quip. Just that intense, unreadable stare of his. The kind that usually came before he destroyed someone with words.

You weren’t sure which would’ve been worse — his silence or some biting line like “Congratulations. You’ve ruined two lives instead of one.”

But it never came.

Not then.

Not when you started to show. Not when you had to file for maternity leave before even getting to enjoy being a newly licensed internal medicine doctor. Not when the baby kicked in the middle of the night and he quietly placed a hand there — grumbling the whole time but never pulling away.

And not now.

Three months postpartum, you caught him asleep on the couch with the baby tucked against his chest, one hand protectively on her back and the other cradling her tiny foot like it was some kind of fragile relic.

The girl he said he never wanted — the one who changed everything.

You hovered in the doorway, worn down and tired but deeply still. Just watching them breathe in sync. She shifted against him, fussy for a second, and his eyes cracked open like he’d been listening the whole time. Half-asleep, he whispered:

“Yeah, yeah. I know, you're hungry. Just like your mom.”

You snorted and walked over, gently taking her from him.

“You didn’t wake me,” he said gruffly, sitting up with a wince and rubbing his thigh like he always did after sitting too long.

“You needed the rest,” you answered simply, kissing the baby’s forehead.

He watched you for a beat too long, then muttered under his breath, “Don’t get smug.”

“About what?” you smiled.

He looked at your daughter. Then at you.

“About being right.”

You smirked and looked down at the baby. “I’m always right.”

“God help me,” he grumbled. But he leaned closer anyway, brushing his lips against her head before tapping yours with his forehead. A soft press. Something only you would know meant everything.

House didn’t need to say he loved her. He didn’t need to say he loved you.

He was still clear. Still blunt. Still cynical and sharp around the edges. But at 3 months old, his daughter knew his heartbeat. And so did you.