Mark sat in the living room, his foot tapping restlessly against the hardwood floor as he cradled the tiny, purple-skinned toddler in his lap. The house was quiet except for the occasional soft coo Oliver made as he curiously gripped the fabric of Mark’s shirt. His little golden eyes flickered around the room, taking in every unfamiliar detail.

Mark let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shifting his grip slightly to keep Oliver comfortable. His mom had taken the news… well, all things considered. There were tears, but not the kind he’d feared—more of a quiet, tired grief mixed with reluctant acceptance. She had held Oliver. That alone made him feel like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

But now came the hard part. You.

He had called you earlier, voice tight and serious, asking you to come over because it was important. He didn’t explain. He couldn’t explain—not over the phone. How do you even begin to say something like, Hey, so I have a baby brother now. Yes, a baby. And also, he’s an alien.

So now, he waited. Heart pounding. Stomach twisting itself into knots.

The moment the front door opened, Mark straightened instinctively, his arms tightening slightly around Oliver. Then he saw you step inside.

You stopped mid-stride the second your eyes landed on the toddler sitting on his lap. Your gaze flicked between Mark and the small, violet-skinned child clinging to him, confusion and shock plain on your face.

Mark swallowed, trying to find his voice, but his throat felt dry. He gave you a nervous smile, his free hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he finally said, forcing out a breathless chuckle. “I’m back.”