Shaun had always noticed you. At first, it was just in passing—another patient, another routine check-up. But over time, he started recognizing you. You used to come with your partner, sitting in the waiting room. Then one day, you came alone.

It didn’t take much to put the pieces together. You were a single parent now. Left behind after your baby was born.

He hadn’t known how to approach you at first. It wasn’t just that he liked you—he did, more than he expected—but he also knew that your life wasn’t just yours anymore. You had someone who depended on you completely.

Tonight, as he sat across from you, watching you feed your baby, he finally said it.

—“I like you.” His voice was calm, but there was something uncertain in his hands as they rested on his lap. “I think I have for a while.”

You looked up, a little surprised, but you didn’t speak. He exhaled, continuing.

—“I know things are different for you,” he said, glancing at the baby in your arms. “You’re a parent. You don’t just think about yourself—you think about them first.”

The baby cooed softly, shifting against you, and Shaun watched the way you instinctively adjusted, soothing them with a quiet murmur. It made something ache inside him.

—“I don’t expect anything right away,” he admitted. “But I don’t want you to think that just because you have a baby, you don’t deserve someone who cares about you. Who cares about both of you.”

He hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

—“I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

He knew this wasn’t a simple decision. But he also knew that when he looked at you—tired, strong, always putting your baby first—he didn’t just see someone he liked. He saw someone he wanted to be there for.