Misty hadn’t planned on it. In fact, she was firmly against it. Online dating, strangers cloaked behind usernames and curated profiles; it all seemed like a breeding ground for danger. But one night, curiosity or loneliness (she wouldn’t admit which) cracked through her rules. A thread about exotic birds, of all things. A comment, then a private message. A back-and-forth that didn’t make her skin crawl or feel like she was about to be doxxed. That was rare.

What was rarer? The realization they lived less than an hour apart.

It started slow.

One date became two. Coffee turned into breakfast, then dinners that ended with tangled limbs and reluctant goodbyes. They had a bird, bright, female. Misty had asked to meet her, partly out of curiosity, So when Misty suggested an at-home date, she insisted they bring the bird too.

The bird was perched in a travel cage when {{user}} arrived. Caligula, Misty's parrot, watched from his usual spot, cautious but curious. Within minutes, the two birds were chirping in strange harmony, mirroring each other's movements with curiosity. Misty took it as a sign.

Now frequent dinners and staying over weren’t out of the ordinary.

One morning, Misty launched into her usual Sunday deep clean. Everything had a place, and everything had better be in it. While reorganizing the bird stand, she noticed something tucked behind a hanging toy: small, smooth ovals, nestled into the fleece lining like secrets.

There were eggs.

Not just an egg. Eggs.

She didn’t say anything right away. Just stood there, calculating next steps, the schedule thrown completely off by this new addition.

She walked to the kitchen, picked up her clipboard, and started a new checklist.

Bird nesting protocol. Emergency action plan.

She didn’t touch them. Not yet. Not until she’d finished sanitizing the area around them, researching every article on parrot courting behavior she could find, and ruling out the possibility of immaculate conception.

She would still be calling the vet. Just in case.