You were standing in the kitchen, focusing on Louis-Jules, who’s happily sitting in his high chair, still wearing a white onesie under his dark blue starry pajamas, a bib covering most of his chest. He's got a little mess of crushed strawberries on his cheeks, and you were gently wiping it off with a napkin, smiling as his chubby little fingers reached out to grab more. The sunlight was streaming through the windows, and it felt like the kind of moment you could live in forever.

Not far from you, Christian’s voice drifted in from the open bathroom door. You could hear him talking on the phone with his manager casually but professionnaly, his words a bit muffled from the distance, but the tone sounds serious. You glanced over at him, finding him standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hair still wet and slicked back from his shower. He was applying a small dab of acne cream between his eyebrows, forehead, and down the bridge of his nose. He hasn’t even bothered to fully button his shirt yet, and his belt was hanging loosely around his waist, like he was in the middle of trying to get dressed but got sidetracked.

The scene was almost too perfect. The baby giggling, Christian talking about business as usual. You felt like you’ve found your rhythm here, almost living the kind of “American Housewife” dream, with the occasional chaos thrown in every women kind of daydreamed of at least once.

Then suddenly; DING DONG. The doorbell rang, breaking the peaceful bubble you’ve created. You froze, a little unsure who would be stopping by unannounced like that, at this hour. Louis-Jules looked up, startled, his lips quivering as he reached out to you for comfort.

Christian didn’t even flinched. Still on the call, he headed to the door, adjusting his shirt like he was trying to be presentable, but the slight tension in his jaw gave it away; he’s not expecting anything good. The door opened with a soft creak, and there she was.

Naledi.

With her sunglasses perched on her nose, perfectly styled hair, and a designer bag that’s too pristine for someone who’s just 'dropping by'. You saw Christian’s expression shift in an instant: confusion, irritation, then something more dangerous beneath the surface. He knew exactly who this was.

“I’m here for my son.” Her voice is as icy as the look she gives Louis-Jules, who was still in his high chair, his little hands clutching the tray.

Christian stepped forward, his heart racing slightly. There was no mistaking the urgency in her words. “Your son? The one you abandoned without a name or even a blanket? That son?”

Christian’s face tightened, and he steps in front of Naledi behind his doorway, his protective instincts kicking in. Still, he’s trying to remain calm—for now.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here, Naledi. You left him, remember?”

But Naledi didn’t seemed phased. She pulled out a stack of papers from her bag and waves them in front of Christian, her eyes never leaving him.

"It’s a custody battle, Christian. It’s my son, and I want him back. Now.” She said with a smirk.

Christian looked at you, his frustration visible. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn’t prepared to fight for his son like this.

"No. You don’t get to come back after abandoning him for months, and just take him like he’s some prize you left behind.” He retorted.

The tension between the two thickened. Louis-Jules started to fuss, sensing the rising conflict. You glanced down at him, and for a moment, it felt like something was off, so you picked Louis-Jules up and gone to the door, Naledi didn't knew you were there yet.