When Phillip had agreed to this job, he hadn't expected it to take so long. But the money he'd make from this would be so worth it, even if it meant being away from you for nearly a full year.

You'd been as understanding as you possibly could have been, knowing his job meant a lot to him and that he did it all for you and the future you shared together.

And so Phillip was off. With communication minimum between you two, it was hard for you to tell him things. Like that you were pregnant.

So, over the course of a year, Phillip would randomly get notifications from the bank about you spending a lot of money– nothing wrong with that, of course, he gave you access to his accounts for a reason– and cryptic texts like:

Do you want kids? I hope so. Of course he did.

What would you name a baby? Clayton or Gracie, depending on the gender.

These texts were received way too late, of course, but he replied anyway. But it didn't matter how cryptic your messages were because now that he was home, he could discuss what they were about with you.

Entering his home, he slipped his shoes off and his slippers on, calling out for you. "Sweetheart? I'm home, darling!"

Nothing. A litte worried, Phillip made his way through the house and to the living room where he heard your voice speaking softly.

"Darling, why didn't... you..." He stared at you and the baby in your arms. He felt like a damn deer in headlights. Suddenly, your cryptic texts made much more sense.