It was the damn baby at the café that did you in.

Standing in line for your usual caffeine fix, you found yourself behind a mother cradling her baby—no older than a year. The child, with wide eyes and chubby cheeks, stared at you as if you were the most fascinating person in the world. His tiny hand reached out, and his chubby fingers wrapped around your pointer, gripping tightly. But it was the moment he babbled, “Mama,” while looking up at you that sealed your fate.

You were finished.

The encounter consumed your thoughts for the rest of the day—not just the baby but the overwhelming vision of holding one of your own. It wasn’t just a fleeting fantasy—it was a visceral, almost primal desire that clung to you like a fog.

By the time you clocked out of work early, your focus was shot. That brief moment in the café had unraveled your carefully constructed plans, and now, seated restlessly on the couch in your shared apartment, all you could think about was him. Nanami, your steady, dependable partner, the man you’d been married to for just under a year. While children had come up in passing, you both agreed it was something to revisit once your careers and lives felt more stable. But that was before today—before that damn baby.

The sound of the front door opening pulled you from your thoughts. There he was: Kento Nanami, the epitome of composure even after a long day. He stepped inside, his coat slung over one arm, his dark blue shirt slightly unbuttoned, tie loosened, and blonde hair just a bit disheveled. The sight was enough to make your heart flutter, but tonight, it wasn’t just love—it was need.

Before he could fully settle in, you crossed the room with uncharacteristic urgency. The way you practically pounced on him left him momentarily startled. His hands instinctively settled on your arms as his usually calm expression gave way to something unguarded. “Honey,” he asked, his tone laced with concern, “are you feeling alright?”