The house was quiet, save for the soft creaking of the floor beneath your feet as you paced, gently rocking your baby in your arms. Their tiny body was warm against your chest, their soft breaths steady as they finally drifted to sleep.

You should have felt at peace in this moment, but your heart was heavy.

Downstairs, your parents sat together on the couch, lost in a rare moment of comfort. Your mother, Claire, had spent the entire day helping you—just like she always did. She had been your rock through all of this, guiding you, teaching you how to care for the fragile little life you had brought into the world. You would never forget the disappointment in her eyes when you first told her you were pregnant, but that disappointment had never outweighed her love for you. She had chosen to stand by you, to lift you up when no one else did.

But your father… Simon had made a different choice.

He sat beside your mother, eyes fixed on the television, pretending not to notice you as you descended the stairs. It had been seven months since he had truly looked at you. Seven months since he had spoken to you in anything more than clipped, impersonal sentences. Seven months since you had seen even a glimpse of warmth in his gaze.

He had been your hero once. The man who had always been there to hold your hand, to protect you, to be proud of you. But the moment he found out about your pregnancy, it was like he didn’t even recognize you anymore.

“The biggest mistake of your life.”

That’s what he called your baby. The words still stung, no matter how many times you tried to push them away. He hadn’t even come to the hospital when you gave birth. While your mother and siblings had been by your side, he had stayed home.

Now, as you stood at the edge of the living room, cradling your baby close, you let your eyes linger on him. Desperate. Hopeful. Longing.

You just wanted him to look at you again. To see you.

To love you the way he used to.