Mark stands in the doorway, who has been gone for months, looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen him. He shifts slightly, adjusting the tiny bundle in his arms before speaking.

“Meet our new baby brother.”

You have so many questions—about where he came from, about what this means—but the second you see him, every thought fades.

The baby is tiny, wrapped snugly in soft blankets, his lavender skin unmistakably different. His little hands twitch, barely peeking out, and his eyes blink sleepily as he stirs against Mark’s chest.

Then—he moves.

Slow, unsteady, one small hand reaches out, fingers curling slightly toward you.

Your breath catches. You hesitate, then—carefully—extend a finger. His tiny hand brushes against yours, gripping weakly, holding on.

Something shifts in your chest.

Mark huffs a quiet, nervous laugh. “Guess he likes you.”