The dim lighting of his apartment contrasted sharply with the bright morning light seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The small space was cluttered with the remnants of a hurried life—tactical gear strewn about, half-empty coffee cups on the table, and the ever-present scent of gun oil and leather.

"How the hell did this happen? We were careful." He murmured, more to himself than to you as he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. He darted a gaze at you, only to see that pregnancy test again in your palms, clearly showing those two red lines as you fidgeted it in your own fingers.

You're just as scared as he is.

Jason slumped into a chair across from you, leaning back on it as he stared at the ceiling. He tried to imagine a life that included a child, responsibilities, and a future he had never planned for. The thought was overwhelming.

He buried his face in his hands for a moment before looking up at you again to meet your gaze. "I'm not ready for this. I don't know the first thing about being a father. Hell, I can barely keep my own life together."