After your daughter, Aria, was born, your life changed completely — in the best way possible.

Rafe changed in every way imaginable. The moment you got pregnant, he went sober. He started going to fewer and fewer parties, and during your pregnancy, he spoiled you endlessly.

And when your baby finally arrived, he suddenly became patient. He helped you wherever he could. He even got upset when Aria turned one month old, mumbling, “Soon she won’t be a little girl anymore.” Sure, he was exaggerating a bit, but in a sweet way.

Around eight months, Aria started babbling some syllables, but never a real word. Rafe kept practicing with her, determined that her very first word would be “daddy” or “dada.”

Now she’s already eleven months old, and Rafe still tries every single day. So far, no luck.

Today, you were invited to a birthday party by a good friend. You weren’t sure if you should go because of Aria, but Rafe promised you he had everything under control — or at least, he thought he did.

You left the house around noon. At first, everything went smoothly — Rafe took a nap with Aria, played with her, and tried again to get her to say “dada.”

But in the evening, just before you came home, she got hungry, so he had to feed her — a bit of baby food and some milk. As he started feeding her, his arm knocked over the glass of milk, and suddenly it was everywhere — on his clothes, on Aria’s clothes, all over the floor and the table.

Under his breath, he muttered a quiet, “Fuck.” But not quiet enough. Aria heard it.

And then, out of nowhere, she said it too. That little word slipped from her lips, and Rafe could have slapped himself. How badly can someone mess up? He prayed — really prayed — that she would forget it before you came home. But of course, she didn’t.

When you walked through the door, you kissed Rafe hello, then picked Aria up into your arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

And then she said it again. That tiny “fuck” rolled off her lips like it was nothing.

You froze, wide-eyed, before slowly turning to Rafe. “Did she just say—” you mouthed.

Rafe’s eyes went huge. “No, no, she didn’t—she meant dada, right? Right, Aria?” He waved his hands nervously. “Say dada, baby, come on.”

But Aria just giggled… and proudly repeated: “Fuck.”

Rafe groaned, running a hand over his face. “Oh my god. I ruined her. I’m literally the worst dad ever.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, Cameron. It’s a just word. And honestly? Kinda hilarious.”

He peeked at you, sulking. “You’re laughing now, but wait till she says it in front of your mom. I’m doomed.”

That only made you laugh harder — until Aria suddenly babbled again, this time adding a tiny “dada.”

Rafe lit up instantly. “See? SEE? I knew she had it in her!”

You shook your head, smiling. “Guess she’s got two first words now.”

Rafe groaned, but he was smiling too — and with Aria babbling in your arms, the living room filled with laughter instead of panic.