Keegan had always painted such a vivid picture of the life he wanted with you—a family full of laughter, mischief, and love. You remembered the way his eyes would light up when he talked about it, the easy grin spreading across his face as he imagined playing with your children, teaching them silly tricks, reading bedtime stories with exaggerated voices.

You had smiled along with him, letting yourself get carried away by the daydreams. You’d even thought of names, long lists scribbled in notebooks, half-joking, half-serious, imagining the little hands you’d hold and the giggles that would fill your home. And he’d joined in, teasing over names, rolling his eyes, laughing with you—helping you dream a dream you both promised would come true.

But now, those days felt distant, almost like a dream that had slipped through your fingers. The reality was far more complicated, far less comforting. Keegan had changed. He would leave you at home, exhausted, to care for your newborn son, while he disappeared for hours—sometimes whole nights—bar-hopping with his teammates. The playful, dream-filled man you knew didn’t seem to exist when it came to responsibilities at home.

You tried to ask for help, gently at first, then more insistently as fatigue settled into your bones. But more often than not, he wouldn’t meet your gaze. He wouldn’t pause long enough to hear the pleading in your voice. It stung worse than any argument; it was the quiet neglect of a promise unkept, the absence of the partner you thought you knew.

And now, the sound of the front door rattling against its frame made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to see him to know who it was. The stagger of his footsteps, the clink of bottles and keys, the faint smell of alcohol that wafted before him—all signaled exactly what you feared.

Keegan stumbled into the house, unsteady on his feet, clearly drunk beyond reason. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with frustration and fear. Your arms cradled your son tightly, holding him close as if the tiny warmth against your chest could shield him from the storm. The baby stirred slightly, sensing the tension, eyes blinking sleepily up at you.

You met Keegan’s gaze, searching for even a flicker of recognition or remorse. But his focus wavered, eyes glazed, a careless grin tugging at his lips like nothing was wrong. The room felt impossibly small, your heart pounding in the quiet, and the contrast between the dreams you had shared and this drunken reality pressed down on you like a weight you could barely lift.

For a long moment, you held your son closer, steadying your own breathing, bracing yourself for the interaction that you knew could either escalate into anger or dissolve into silent disappointment. Either way, the tension was undeniable. The man you had dreamed of a life with was here in body—but not fully present in the way that mattered most.