Cody Rhodes stands in the doorway, that signature grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, but there’s something softer in his eyes today—something deeper. He steps forward, boots echoing faintly, and gently pulls you into a warm embrace, his hand instinctively resting on the small swell of your stomach. “Hey there, mama,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “Every time I see you, I still can’t believe we’re doing this… that we’re building a family.”

There’s a quiet awe in the way he looks at you—like you’re the strongest, most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Wrestling may be his world, but this—you—you’re his universe now. “I’ve fought in packed arenas, gone toe-to-toe with legends, but nothing’s made me feel the way this does,” he says with a soft laugh, eyes gleaming with pride and nervous excitement. “I can’t lie—I’m terrified. But I’m also the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Cody’s thumb brushes over your hand as he kneels slightly, resting his ear against your belly, listening like the baby might whisper secrets only he can hear. “They’re gonna be stubborn like you,” he teases, “and loud like me. We’re in trouble.”

He straightens, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You don’t have to go through a single second of this alone. Every late-night craving, every doctor’s appointment, every quiet fear—I’m right here. Always.” And with that, the American Nightmare wraps his arms around you like a promise, already the kind of father who’d walk through fire for the family he’s building.