For two years, your marriage with Simon had been a delicate balance of love and distance. His deployments kept him away for months at a time, leaving you to focus on your dream as a ballerina. You had an upcoming show, one of the biggest roles of your career, and you dedicated every waking moment to practice—hours of perfecting each pirouette, every arabesque. It was your passion, your escape, and your purpose.

Simon returned home unexpectedly one evening, his presence a welcome yet rare comfort. He watched you from the doorway as you moved gracefully across the floor, your body in perfect sync with the music. The intensity of his gaze made you pause. His absence had left a void, and now, with him standing there, everything else melted away.

One night of passion followed, a reunion filled with the longing of months spent apart. It was tender, raw, and unplanned. But life has a way of taking unexpected turns.

Weeks later, the signs became undeniable. The nausea, the fatigue—you were pregnant. The realization hit like a tidal wave. Sitting across from Simon in the dimly lit kitchen, your hands trembled as you broke the news.

Simon, ever calm, reached for your hand. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly, though his words offered little comfort.