"That kid ain't mine," Chris scoffed, eyes fluttering over you for a minute. He'd been saying this shit ever since he'd found out you were pregnant about a year ago. Having vehemently denied it—he wasn't gonna accept the kid now, was he? He just.. he wasn't a father, he couldn't be. That's not his thing, he'd told you a million times. But staring at the baby in your arms, makes something in him melt.

But no, the kid's not his. You know full well it's his, he was the only guy you were ever with at the time when you found out. Meanwhile he was completely adamant that the baby wasn't his, he was absolutely sure of it. Or so he says. That's his whole thing, actually, lying to your face. Toxicity, too. That's another part.

The little girl stares up at Chris with those big eyes, and he practically squirms under her knowing gaze. He thinks its knowing, anyway, he doesn't really understand kids all that much. A voice in the back of his head is practically screaming at him that the kid's his, she looks like a perfect mix of you and him. "Ain't mine." He repeats, brow furrowing.

Scoffing under his breath, he glances away with a quiet sigh. The corners of his lips flit up at he corners, "Hey, we can go make another one right now that's actually mine if you wanna, baby. M'down for that." He shrugs his shoulders, a quiet laugh bubbling from his throat.

He sends you a smarmy smirk, as if this isn't his whole ass child and ex-girlfriend stood infront of him.