Living with Derek had become a kind of soft chaos. Between his early surgeries and your late nights, your shared apartment was a mix of coffee cups, lost pagers, and half-folded laundry. But somehow, it worked. There was love in the small things—in the way he always made sure there was coffee for you in the morning, or how you kept his side of the bed warm when he got home late.

One afternoon, a small pastel-colored package arrived at the door. You opened it curiously, revealing a full gender reveal kit—pink and blue balloons, confetti poppers, and a cupcake box labeled: “Boy or Girl? Let’s find out!”

You blinked. Derek raised an eyebrow.

—“We’re not—?”

—“Nope.”

A few confused glances and a shared shrug later, you both decided to bring it to the hospital, thinking maybe it was meant for one of the OB-GYNs or a nearby family.

Turns out, it had Mark Sloan’s name scribbled on the bottom in small, glittery writing.

—“That can’t be right,” Derek muttered. “Mark doesn’t even have a plant, let alone a kid.”

When you handed the package over at the nurse’s station, expecting them to laugh it off as a simple mistake, the receptionist just smirked knowingly.

—“Oh, no mistake,” she said. “It was more of an… indirect message.”

You and Derek exchanged a look.

—“Message?” Derek asked slowly.

She nodded toward the package.

—“You two have been living together for over a year, always arriving at the hospital together, always leaving together. Honestly, we just thought… maybe it was time someone nudged the idea of little Shepherds.”

Derek stared, stunned. You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Mark—who magically appeared at the perfect time, as always—leaned on the counter with a grin.

—“Don’t look at me. I told them you’d both panic.”