So she’s sure. And I feel sure instantly, as well.
I don’t know where we land, how we do this, or what it costs us both.
I just know I’m not walking away from it.
I always wanted a kid. Alwayswantedone—never thought I’d get the chance.
Then suddenly, a sick dread rolls through me. What if this is an entirely different conversation? What if she doesn’t want it…
She saves me from going down that road.
“I’m keeping the baby, Anton.”
Relief surges through me, and then something quieter follows. Something heavier.
I don’t know yet what she’s asking of me. Support. Partnership. A seat beside her or simply a place in the background?
She’s telling me. Whatever this is, it isn’t nothing.
“I’m twelve weeks officially. Everything was looking good today.” She lets out a sharp breath. “I’m due in August.”
Every word that comes through my phone fills me with hope. With oxygen for a life I never thought I’d get to breathe.
I don’t want this conversation over the phone, on a sidewalk with dog walkers passing. It’s too much.
A baby.
Mine.
She’s keeping it.
I want it.
The wanting isn’t logic; it’s bone-deep, automatic. I instantly start seeing a life I never thought I’d get—a little chaos, a little miracle, all wrapped in her.
I know this is complicated. Not being a dad and having a little one relying on me—that will be second nature. But figuring out a way forward that requires trust between me and Freya will be another thing.
I’m getting way ahead of myself. We need to talk more. In person. “I’ll be down in maybe eight hours.”
“Down where? Here?” She exhales fast. “Anton, no. You don’t have to…really. We have time to talk.”
“I’m coming.”
“Why?”
“Because you and our baby deserve more than a man hiding behind a phone.”
There’s a long pause on the line.
“Okay,” she says finally. “But drive safe, all right? I’ll text you somewhere we can meet.”
Not at her house, then. Guess that means her mom doesn’t know. It means a lot that she told me first—that she carried this for weeks just to be sure. The woman handles everything alone, even the things that shouldn’t be hers to carry.
That’s something I plan to change. I’ve got her back now.
When the call ends, I stay where I am. The clouds don’t move. The world doesn’t, either. The hum of the valley fills my ears, the sound of normal life continuing, oblivious to the fact that mine just turned inside out.
I shake my head. How can everything look this normal when something this extraordinary just happened?
