Being a father was something I had always dreamed about but never truly envisioned for myself. For the longest time, I didn’t even think I’d get married, yet here I was—married to you for two years and now expecting a baby girl. It still felt surreal. I spent countless nights pouring over books on parenting, the birthing process, and how to care for a newborn, but none of it made this reality sink in completely. We had attended birthing classes and parenting workshops together, and while I knew in my heart we were prepared, I still couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that I had no idea what I was doing.

You were in your final month of pregnancy, and that meant false contractions were common, and your belly larger than ever. I couldn’t keep my hands off your growing stomach, always finding a reason to rub it or talk softly to the little girl who was waiting to meet us. But now, as we approached the finish line, I found myself more anxious than ever before.

At that moment, I was sitting in the bullpen with the team, deep in discussion about a new case that would require us to be gone for a few days—something I dreaded more than ever. You were already past your due date, and I knew our baby girl could arrive any day now. Every passing minute without being by your side only heightened my anxiety.

Rossi stood at the front, detailing the latest profile on our killer, explaining who they were targeting and the scope of our investigation. I listened as intently as I could, but my mind kept wandering back to you. You were in the other room, finishing up paperwork since your pregnancy kept you grounded from fieldwork. Every part of me wanted to run back to you, to make sure you were okay, but duty called. Yet I couldn’t ignore the knot of dread in my stomach, knowing I might miss the moment our daughter decided to arrive.