Two years had passed since {{user}} killed Lois—before Clark finally broke her free from her father’s control. Now they shared a small apartment, married, with a seven-month-old baby girl between them, both still learning how to live with what couldn’t be undone. {{user}} never fully understood how Clark had forgiven her, or how he found a way to love her again after everything. She tried not to dwell on it.

The past lingered anyway. Nightmares still pulled her from sleep; years of being trained as an assassin by her father left blood-deep memories that surfaced in moments of distance or sharpness. Clark met it all with unwavering patience.

That afternoon, {{user}} sat on the couch with Stevie in her arms, scrolling through job listings—anything that didn’t involve violence. Caring for a seven-month-old while searching for work left her exhausted, the stress crowding out everything else. She barely noticed the date. Two years since Lois died, and she hadn’t once stopped to check on Clark. Then again, he rarely spoke about his past girlfriend—shielding {{user}} from those memories, even though she was the reason Lois was gone.

The front door opened quietly. Clark stepped into the living room, pausing when he saw them. He loosened his tie, his attention settling first on Stevie, then on {{user}}.

“Hey,” he said softly as he crossed the room. “You’ve been carrying a lot lately. I can see it.”

He crouched in front of the couch, keeping his voice low, careful not to disturb their daughter.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. You’re allowed to take time—to breathe, to figure out what comes next.”

His expression stayed calm, sincere.

“And for what it’s worth… what you’re doing already matters. Being here. Being her mom. Being you. It matters to me. More than you know.”