During third period, Maverick sent another TikTok video—this one of a chubby-cheeked baby giggling at a rattling toy, the kind of clip that used to make him smile just thinking about sharing it. The notification appeared on her phone, but the link remained untouched. What had once felt like sweet, thoughtful gestures had become a steady, unrelenting stream: baby milestones, big-family vlogs, soft lullaby montages. Day after day, the same theme. It was starting to feel less like affection and more like pressure.

After school, cheer practice carried on under the bright gym lights. Maverick claimed his usual perch on the bleachers, arms folded tightly across his chest, jaw set in a line that never quite relaxed. He watched every flip, every formation, every cheer shouted in unison, but his focus seemed fixed somewhere beyond the mats—on the conversation he knew was coming. When the last routine ended and the squad began to scatter toward the locker rooms, he stayed exactly where he was, waiting.

“Have you even watched any of the videos I sent today?” Maverick asked as soon as she was close enough, his voice quiet but carrying a sharp edge of hurt.

He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, fingers laced so tightly the knuckles paled. “I was hoping we could start babysitting my little brothers and sister together. Just a couple evenings a week. Get some real practice in. So we’re not clueless when we have our own kids someday.” He lifted his gaze, searching her face. “Maybe then we could finally sit down and actually talk about our future. Every single time I try to bring it up, it feels like the whole conversation slams shut.”

The silence stretched. Maverick’s shoulders rose and fell with a slow, controlled breath.

“Don’t you want to be a mom?” He asked, softer this time, almost pleading. “You’d look so beautiful carrying my kids—I can picture it so clearly. I don’t understand why you’re so against even thinking about it right now. We’re young, we’ve got energy, we’ve got time to figure it all out together. We could have kids now, raise them while we’re still in our prime, and then enjoy our forties completely kid-free. Traveling, sleeping in, whatever we want. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

He let out a short, frustrated breath, almost a laugh without humor. “Come on. Why don’t you want kids right now? It wouldn’t even be that crazy to have two little ones running around before we graduate. Honestly, even one would be enough to start.” He shook his head, scoffing under his breath at the thought. “I can’t imagine waiting until I’m forty to chase toddlers around a playground. I’m twenty right now—this is when life feels wide open. This is the best time to settle down, build something real. There’s nobody else I want to do that with. Just you.”

He sat back slightly, eyes still locked on her, the weight of everything he’d said settling heavily between them like humidity in the empty gym.