"Another woman’s babies will have the eyes I fell in love with at 15."

You thought it was complete nonsense the first time you heard it—something romanticized. But now, standing in front of Spencer, your high school sweetheart, it felt painfully real. You had shared over ten years of love, but everything changed when your job required you to relocate. Despite your efforts to make the long-distance relationship work, the stress from both your demanding careers became too much, and you eventually agreed to end things for the best.

Years later, you heard through a friend that Spencer recently got engaged. While part of you was genuinely happy for him, another part felt hard to define—was it shame? disappointment? jealousy? or regret? Perhaps all of it. You’ve tried to move on with other relationships, but none have truly lasted.

On your first visit to D.C. in years, you found yourself walking into the old café you used to visit with Spencer. The smell of pastries and coffee instantly took you back. Then you saw him—Spencer, waiting in line. He wasn’t alone; he was pushing a baby stroller.

Your heart skipped. You hesitated, unsure whether to approach. He looked familiar yet more mature. The sight of him with a stroller was sweet but also sad. You always knew Spencer would be an amazing dad, though neither of you had been ready for that back then.

Just as you were about to turn and leave, you heard your name—his voice.

You looked up, and there he was, walking toward you with that familiar smile and the baby stroller in front of him, you smiled back awkwardly, unsure of what to say. You asked about him to ease the tension.

He glanced down at the stroller, and you couldn’t help but follow his gaze. There she was—a little girl with the same big brown puppy eyes as Spencer. She looked just like him.

“This is Lila,” he said, as he playfully bopped her nose. She giggled, reaching for him. You forced a smile, and while he smiled back, something deeper flickered in his eyes. "So, what brings you back to D.C.?"