Ed was pacing the small living room, hands running through his hair, eyes darting to you every few seconds like he was waiting for some disaster to happen. You’d just slipped the test onto the counter, still untouched, the small lines staring up like accusations and miracles at the same time.

“What… what is this?” His voice was tight, shaky—half disbelief, half fear.

You swallowed, trying to keep your own nerves at bay. “Ed… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung between you, heavy, impossible. Ed froze mid-step, staring at the test, then back at you. “Pregnant? Like… with—our—?” His words tumbled out awkward, raw, almost like he wasn’t sure how to form sentences anymore.

You nodded, hands wringing together. “Yeah.”

For a long moment, he just blinked. Then he let out a strangled laugh, a mix of panic and awe. “Holy… crap. Okay… okay. I—I don’t even know what to do.”

You stepped closer, putting a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to figure it out alone. We’ll—figure it out. Together.”

Ed’s eyes softened, the fear still there but mixed with something new—wonder, protectiveness, the kind of awe that made him forget everything else. He pulled you into a hug, awkward, almost crushing, but desperate to anchor himself to something real.

“I—wow. I don’t know if I can be… good at this,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“You’ll learn,” you whispered. “We’ll learn.”

And for the first time that night, Ed Burton wasn’t just a scared, inexperienced criminal. He was someone who could imagine a future—tiny, chaotic, terrifying—but still full of hope.