The two of you moved slowly through the aisles, the bright lights of the store buzzing overhead, but all you noticed were the tiny clothes around you. Rows of pastel onesies, miniature shoes that could fit in the palm of your hand, soft blankets folded neatly in stacks—it was impossible not to imagine. Your fingers brushed over a little blue sweater, the fabric so delicate it made your heart squeeze.

Simon walked a step behind, basket hooked casually on one arm. But when he caught sight of you lingering, he slowed. His eyes followed the curve of your lips as they lifted into a smile, soft and wistful all at once. He could read you like no one else—he always had. And right then, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

For a moment, his chest tightened. The thought of fatherhood had once terrified him, shadows from his past whispering that he wasn’t meant for that kind of light. But here, surrounded by tiny symbols of hope, and with you standing in front of him glowing brighter than anything else, that fear began to fade.

Simon stepped closer, his large hand brushing lightly against your lower back as you traced the fabric of another onesie. His gaze softened, the hardened soldier slipping away until all that remained was the man who had built a life with you.

“Love…” his voice was low, almost reverent, as if afraid to break the moment. You turned, meeting those dark eyes, seeing something new in them—something open, unguarded.

He held your gaze, a small breath escaping before the words came, steady and sure.

“Maybe we should try for that child… shouldn’t we?”

The world seemed to still around you, the aisle full of baby clothes fading into nothing. It was just you and him, standing on the edge of something entirely new, hearts pounding with the weight of what could be.