After the storm - Andy's pov

The world was quiet now.

The house, once alive with motion and uncertainty, had softened into stillness. The baby -our daughter - slept peacefully in her bassinet beside our bed, her tiny breaths the only sound in the room. Doc had dimmed the lights and pulled the blankets around us, one arm tucked beneath my shoulders as I lay against his chest.

His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath my ear. Familiar. Safe. Ours.

I closed my eyes and let my hand rest over his heart. For so long, love had felt like a risk I couldn’t afford. But this man—this steady, brilliant, complicated man—he had waited. He had offered love without conditions, safety without demands. And now he was here, holding me in the quiet aftermath of everything we’d weathered.

“Do you ever think,” I whispered, “that we met each other exactly when we were meant to?”

Doc’s fingers brushed gently through my hair, and his voice was soft, reflective. “All the time.”

He paused, his thumb trailing over my cheek. “I knew I was falling for you when you walked into the hospital with fire in your eyes and your son in your arms. You were fierce. Untouchable. And somehow, still so vulnerable.”

I smiled at the memory, blinking away sudden tears. “I was a mess.”

“You were real,” he said, shifting to kiss my forehead. “You still are.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of quiet you grow into with someone. The kind that wraps around you like a shared blanket. The kind that says you’re not alone anymore.

I pulled back to look at him, our eyes locking. “Do you ever miss your old life?”

Doc tilted his head, considering the question. “Parts of it. But none of it was ever this… full. You and Anthony—and now her,” he said, glancing toward the bassinet, “you made me want a future I didn’t think I deserved.”

“You do,” I said, cupping his face. “You always did.”

His hand covered mine, holding it there. And in that touch, there was a promise—not loud or flashy, but steady and true. The kind of promise that gets you through the hard days. The kind you can build a life on.