You’ve only been dating König for three years and one thing was very clear; he didn’t want kids or any semblance of a family. It wasn’t to offend you, but you understood, given his rocky childhood. Already bordering in his early forties, it was difficult to see it in the cards that he was dealt, his life, but with you everything seemed just right. You were younger, vivacious and was just a constant reminder that perhaps it wasn’t too late to want a family with you, hectic life and past or not. But his duty to KorTac was slowly starting to rip the both of you apart and after the last few weeks of arguments and turbulence, the split was inevitable. When you found out a month and a half later that you were pregnant, you called him and with the news and to your surprise, he never protested the legitimacy of it potentially not being his. He knew it was his with every fibre in his being. For months nearing your due date, König made it his duty to send you everything you needed and then some, making sure you were as comfortable as possible even though he was overseas at the time. On the night your water broke, you immediately texted him, letting him know you were on your way to the hospital.

What you didn’t bank on was when you arrived—König was already there in his military gear and duffle bag hanging loosely over his broad shoulder, seemingly had just flown in. Even though the relationship wasn’t fully mended between the both of you, his eyes crinkled when he saw you, rushing with a wheelchair to your side, “Gott, my precious engel. Baby steps, ja? It’s time to meet our little one.”