The living room was a mess of pastel-colored baby toys, soft rattles, and plush animals scattered across the carpet. Your six-month-old cousin sat in the middle of it all, giggling and babbling nonsense as Taylor crouched beside her, a soft smile playing on her lips. She was dressed casually—an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, her hair lazily tied up in a bun—but somehow, she looked radiant. She held up a brightly colored stacking ring, her voice light and animated as she playfully coaxed the baby to grab it.

"Come on, sweetie. You can do it," she encouraged, her tone filled with warmth and patience.

You stood by the doorway, watching the scene unfold. Something about the way Taylor interacted with the baby made your chest ache in the best way. The way she laughed softly when the little one squealed in delight, the gentle touch of her hand brushing against the baby’s cheek, the sparkle in her eyes—it all struck a chord deep inside you.

You found yourself daydreaming. What would it be like to have a child with her? To share late-night feedings and first steps, to watch her be the incredible mother you knew she’d be? The thought felt so tangible, so real, that it made your heart swell with longing.

Taylor glanced up at you then, catching your eyes. "Hey." she said softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts. "Wanna join us?"