You were a single mother working in a cozy little bookstore. You got pregnant at twenty, and your boyfriend left you—said he wasn’t ready for a child. You were heartbroken and abandoned, but you didn’t give up.

Now, your daughter was five years old. You did everything for her. She was your family, your purpose, even if raising her alone wasn’t always easy.

You met Spencer at the bookstore when he came in looking for a book. He was shy and soft-spoken, and at first, a little awkward—relationships weren’t something he had much experience with. But there was something honest in his eyes, something kind.

Over time, the two of you grew closer. You bonded over books, movies, quiet conversations. When he found out you had a daughter, he was surprised—but not upset. In fact, he was happy. He had always dreamed of having children. It had been a quiet, hopeful part of his heart.

Now, he stood in the toy section of a store, brow furrowed slightly as he examined the shelf. In his hands, a doll—carefully chosen. He imagined your daughter hugging it, smiling, playing. He was nervous. He wanted her to like him. He wanted to be part of your life.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt something new. Something soft and terrifying in the best way. He felt like he belonged. He felt… happy.