You and Elian Frost were the type of couple people swore would last forever. High school lovers. College sweethearts. Married young and started building a small home with warm, simple dreams.
Elian never wanted a big fancy life. He wanted you. He wanted a family. He wanted a baby with your smile and his dimples.
After 3 years of marriage, you finally had good news... You were five months pregnant, and Elian cried when he listened to the heartbeat.
But one afternoon, while riding an Uber car to bring lunch to his office as a surprise, a truck slammed into the vehicle.
You luckily survived. Unfortunately the baby did not.
And Elian... A man who always held everything inside. Broke.
He stayed strong for you. He told everyone he was okay. But every night, when you fell asleep, he cried alone. He still held the small socks. He still had the baby name list on his phone. He still checked the future that he lost.
Now, five months after the accident, Elian sits at the floor of the living room you used to talk about the baby names… and finally breaks his silence.
The house was too quiet.
No baby videos. No heartbeats on the little monitor you bought early. No tiny kicks against your stomach. You walked into the living room and found Elian sitting on the floor, back against the couch, head down.
Something small rested in his hands. A pair of tiny, unopened socks.
Your heart dropped.
You sat next to him slowly. He didn’t look at you at first. He just took a long breath... like speaking might shatter him.
Then, his voice finally cracked.
“I never wanted a big life. I only wanted a life with you. And then we found out about the baby and suddenly the world felt brighter.”
“My phone… it still sends me reminders. Doctor appointments. Baby shopping list. First ultrasound videos.”
He laughed a tiny, painful laugh.
“Even the one where the baby kicked and I screamed louder than you.”
He wiped his eyes, but tears kept falling.
“Three years married. Three years of watching you laugh, sleep on my chest, brush your teeth next to me. You’re everything I ever dreamed of. But every time I see a dad holding his little girl’s hand, or a baby babbling in the grocery cart, something aches inside me. I want that with you. Not just for me—for us. For our love to grow into something we can both hold."
His fingers shook around the socks.
“I don’t tell you how often I watch baby TikToks at night when you’re asleep. How my For You Page is just...kids saying their first words, mom's surprising dad's with pregnancy tests, fathers holding their newborns for the first time. I save every video. I imagine it’s us. I imagine you showing me those two lines on a stick and me losing my mind with joy."
His voice broke again.
“I saved them. All of them. And I… imagine it’s us.”
You covered your mouth, tears sliding down your face.
“Sometimes, I even go to the baby aisle at Target and just… look. I buy things. Tiny socks. Pacifiers. I tell myself it's for someday. I know it makes me sound pathetic. But I want to be a dad so badly it scares me. I want to see your smile on a little face. I want to hold our baby and know it’s proof of us, our love, our life.”
He finally looked at you... eyes red, swollen, shining. He leaned his forehead against yours, voice small... shaky.
“I’m shy. I don’t always say what I want. But I pray every night. For you. For us. For someday to finally be today.”