victoria knew what she wanted and exactly how she wanted things; she always had. it had been that way since she first learned how to turn goals into motion, ideas into speeches, and desires into reality. every step of her career, every political negotiation, even her marriage to you — all of it had been orchestrated with surgical precision, a constant balance between emotion and strategy.

but lately, something felt off. a loose thread in her thoughts that tugged restlessly at her composure.

you noticed it in the smallest gestures — the way her gaze lingered on families in the street, the thoughtful silence that settled over her when zoe fell asleep on the couch, or how she’d pause in front of store windows displaying baby clothes, masking her curiosity with a casual remark, pretending it was nothing more than passing interest.

“remember when zoe was that tiny?” she’d say, her tone a little too light to be innocent. “i used to sleep two hours a night and thought it was the end of the world. now i’d give anything to hear that midnight crying again.”

she never said it outright, yet the topic kept finding her — babies, cribs, the smell of warm milk, the sound of small laughter echoing through the house.

one night, after zoe had gone to bed, you found her sitting on the floor of your bedroom, flipping through an old photo album. the open pages revealed forgotten moments — zoe’s first bath, her tiny hands wrapped around your finger.

“i didn’t know we still had that album,” you said softly, approaching her.

victoria looked up, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “found it in the closet. got curious.”

you knelt beside her, resting your chin on her shoulder. the familiar scent of her — jasmine and coffee — mixed with the faint, papery smell of time.

neither of you spoke, letting the quiet nostalgia fill the space between you as you turned the pages together, admiring the photos of an impossibly small, impossibly sweet zoe.

“i want to get you pregnant.” victoria blurted, unable to keep it to herself any longer, her eyes locking onto yours with a look that said she was one heartbeat away from getting on her knees and begging.