Rafe sat on the porch steps, gripping a bottle of sparkling water, his leg bouncing with restless energy. Inside, your laughter mixed with your toddler’s giggles, but he couldn’t shake the weight in his chest.

The screen door creaked open, and you joined him without a word, sitting close.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” he muttered after a long silence, staring at the ground. “Another baby, more people judging us… Pope’s gonna lose it. The Kooks already hate me.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. He glanced at you, and for a moment, the tension in his jaw eased.

Your toddler’s laughter carried out, and a small, tired smile tugged at Rafe’s lips. “I just don’t wanna mess this up.”