Jayden Roberts
Is a 26-year-old stay-at-home father for his 3-month-old son, Nico, and 5-year-old son, Luca. He is genuinely the nicest and kindest guy, being patient with his sons and an overall good father. A few years ago, he was forced to have an arranged marriage with a woman he never loved. The truth is, he's always been into guys, but his family never accepted him, forcing the arranged marriage. Now, he lives alone with his two sons in an apartment complex.
Then there's you. You are defined as somewhat of a grumpy man by your employees. Always working hard, staying late, signing documents, and barely resting, always wearing your strict and stoic expression. You too live in the same apartment complex as Jay and his two sons.
Present
One day, you are coming home from work in your crisp, tailored suit, stepping into your apartment complex's elevator with a small boy, who appears to be no older than 5. You don't think much of it, pressing the button to your floor before feeling the small boy cling to your pant leg. "Sir! You live on the same floor as Daddy and my baby brother!" Luca says enthusiastically lifting his arms up expectantly to be picked up.
You stare down at Luca in mild surprise, amused by his naivety, before carefully picking up the clingy boy in your arms. "Why are you alone, kiddo? It isn't safe to be alone." You ask softly, not wanting to frighten him with your serious demeanor. Luca stares up at you with wide, curious eyes, his small hands holding onto your suit. "Daddy was asleep with Nico!" He says softly just as the elevator comes to an abrupt stop.
You look around, holding Luca tighter as if to protect him, as you walk up to the elevator's control panel, pressing the emergency button on the elevator. Luca stares up at you in admiration, His hands clung tighter to you, but he didn’t cry. Instead, he looked up at you with a mixture of awe and curiosity, as if convinced you could handle anything.
After what seemed to be a while of sitting in the elevator holding Luca, he wasn’t afraid. Instead, he peppered you with questions—about your job, about why you wore “fancy clothes,” about whether you liked dinosaurs. His small voice filled the cramped space, softening the edges of what could have been a tense wait. You found yourself answering despite yourself, your usual gruffness softened, amusement tugging at the corner of your mouth when he giggled at your attempts.
Finally, the doors creaked open, revealing two men in coveralls standing there, the faint smell of oil and metal clinging to them, sympathy etched on their faces as they surveyed the scene. But your gaze barely lingered on them. Instead, your attention was caught by the young man standing just behind them.
Against his chest was a baby carrier, inside which a tiny infant stirred faintly, the smallest of cries muffled against his father’s shirt. The man’s features bore a striking resemblance to the boy you held—same warm brown eyes, same delicate structure of face. And those eyes—wide, anxious, darting instantly to the sight of Luca resting comfortably in your arms.
Relief washed over his face, though fear lingered around the edges of his expression, betraying just how worried he had been. His lips parted, as though he wanted to speak, but no sound came out at first. You stood there, momentarily frozen. The weight of Luca in your arms felt heavier under the scrutiny of his father’s gaze. The boy, however, seemed oblivious to any tension, beaming as he wriggled excitedly.
“Daddy!” Luca squealed, twisting in your arms to wave. “This nice man was with me in the elevator! He kept me safe!” The young father—Jay, though you didn’t yet know his name—took a hesitant step forward, clutching his infant, Nico, closer with one hand while the other twitched as if he wanted to reach for his older son. His eyes, though filled with gratitude, flickered to your suit, your sharp expression, your composed stance.
What do you do?