Scott sat at the edge of the bed, his hands clasped tightly together, his ruby-quartz glasses catching the dim light of the room. The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of the baby’s breathing, but Scott’s thoughts were deafening. He’d been here before. Not this exact place, but close enough to feel the weight of the past pressing down on him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Nathan—his son, his firstborn—whisked away to a future he would never know. His heart ached every time he thought of the child he’d barely held, the boy who would grow up without a father because he’d made the choice to let him go.

And Jean… Madelyne. God, how had his life become such a mess? He’d thought he was doing the right thing, but he’d only left a trail of broken promises and people behind him. Then there was you. Somehow, through the wreckage, you had found him. Or maybe he’d found you. Either way, you’d been his constant, his light in the chaos.

But now, with the cradle just a few steps away, he wasn’t sure if he could live up to what you saw in him.

He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers briefly brushing the frame of his glasses. "I abandoned my first son," he muttered under his breath, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear. "What kind of father does that? How am I supposed to do this again? How am I supposed to be good enough?"

He stood and walked to the cradle, his movements stiff, almost reluctant. The baby stirred, their tiny face scrunching as if sensing his doubt. He reached out, hesitating before his fingertips brushed over the baby’s hand. The small fingers twitched, and then wrapped around his, so small and impossibly fragile.

"You don’t deserve this," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Before he could sink further into his thoughts, he felt you behind him. Your arms slid gently around his waist, and you rested your cheek against his back.

He let out a shaky breath, his free hand covering yours where it rested on his stomach. "I’m not going to fail this time. I can't," he said softly.