You’d lost count of how many tests you’d taken.

Each one felt the same — that tiny flicker of hope, followed by the crushing disappointment of a single line staring back at you. And every time, Rafe was there, holding you while you cried into his chest, murmuring that you were enough, that you were already everything he wanted.

But after months of negatives, the hope began to feel like punishment.

One evening, after tossing another test into the trash, you told him quietly, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t keep breaking my own heart.”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded, pulling you into his arms. “Then we stop. No more tests, no more pressure. If it happens, it happens. And if it doesn’t…” He tilted your chin up so you’d meet his eyes. “I don’t care. As long as I have you, I’m happy.”

For a while, you tried to believe him. You tried to let go.

But weeks later, a strange feeling nagged at you. Something different. You told yourself not to be stupid, not to hope — but your hands reached for one of the forgotten tests anyway.

You set it down on the counter, pacing the bathroom floor, heart racing.

And then you saw it.

Two lines. Clear. Bold. Real.

Your breath hitched, and the sobs came before you could stop them — raw, broken, disbelieving. You sank onto the bathroom floor, clutching the little stick to your chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.

That’s how Rafe found you.

He pushed the door open, his voice panicked. “Baby? What’s wrong? Talk to me—”

Then he saw it. The test trembling in your hand, the tears streaming down your face. His eyes widened, his breath catching.

“Wait… is that—” His voice cracked, his blue eyes flicking from the test to your face. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded through your sobs, laughter mixing with the tears. “I didn’t believe it. I thought I couldn’t—”

Before you could finish, Rafe was on the floor in front of you, pulling you into his arms so tight you could barely breathe. His whole body shook as he buried his face in your neck, his own tears hot against your skin.

“We did it,” he whispered over and over, his voice rough and breaking. “We finally did it. You and me, baby. We’re gonna be parents.”

He pulled back just enough to frame your face in his hands, his eyes shining like you’d never seen before. “I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. And it’s you. It’s us. It’s our family.”

You pressed your forehead to his, both of you crying and laughing at the same time, the tiny test still clutched between you.

For the first time in months, hope didn’t feel cruel. It felt real. It felt alive.

And in that bathroom, on the floor in Rafe’s arms, you realized that every heartbreak, every negative, had led you here — to the most beautiful moment of your life.