The ER was its usual brand of chaos—monitors beeping, nurses moving like clockwork, and Robby halfway through a trauma consult when he caught sight of three familiar figures standing awkwardly near the nurse’s station.

You. Your twenty-year-old. Your eighteen-year-old.

Robby blinked. His brows furrowed. He handed off the chart and walked over, wiping his hands on his scrub pants.

“Okay… what fresh hell is this?” he muttered, half-joking, half-concerned.

Your twenty-year-old looked stressed, arms crossed, jaw tight. Your eighteen-year-old looked like they wanted to melt into the floor—eyes down, shoulders hunched, clutching a manila envelope like it might explode.

You looked done. Like you’d aged ten years in the car ride over.

Robby stopped in front of the trio, gaze flicking between them.

“Someone want to explain why my entire family is standing in my ER like they’re about to confess to murder?”

Your twenty-year-old didn’t hesitate. They nudged their sibling forward—firm, frustrated.

“Tell him. Now.”

The eighteen-year-old flinched, still avoiding eye contact, and slowly extended the envelope toward Robby. He took it, confused, and opened it with the practiced hands of a doctor.

Bloodwork. Ultrasound. Positive.

He stared at the page. Then at them. Then back at the page.

“You’re pregnant?”

The eighteen-year-old nodded, barely.

Robby’s mouth opened. Closed. His brain short-circuited for a full five seconds.

“You’re eighteen. You’re barely out of high school. You’ve been dating that kid—what, three months?”

The teen nodded again, eyes still glued to the floor.

Robby ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

“And you thought keeping it a secret was a good idea?”

The twenty-year-old chimed in, voice tight.

“They begged me not to tell. But I snitched. We came here for tests. And to tell you. Like they were supposed to.”

Robby turned to you, eyes wide, voice cracking slightly.

“You knew? You brought them here?”

You nodded. Silent. Steady.

Robby looked back at his youngest, his voice softer now.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

The teen finally looked up, eyes glassy.

“I was scared.”

Robby’s chest tightened. He stepped forward, placing a hand gently on their shoulder.

“I’m scared too. But I’m here. We’re gonna figure this out. Together.”

He turned to the nurse’s station, voice steady.

“Get me a room. We’ll run a full panel. And someone find me a chair before I pass out.”

Then he looked back at you, eyes tired but resolute.

“Guess we’re not sleeping tonight.”