After what felt like hours of consoling and soothing, you finally managed to lull your child into a state of deep slumber in their crib, allowing time to yourself.

Trudging through the thick darkness that encapsulates your tiny apartment, you sink into the couch, a sigh slipping past your lips. But just as the couch invited yours limbs to loosen, a knock on your door urges you to rise.

At the front door was your boyfriend donned in snow, bearing flowers, his way of apologizing for your reality as a single parent, “Hey, I know it’s late, but I wanted to stop off and see you and the little one perchance?”