The night was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind.
The thinking kind.
Aria lay awake beside Leo, staring at the faint glow of the digital clock on the nightstand.
02:17 AM.
She had checked it three times.
Sleep kept slipping away.
Not because of pain.
Because of awareness.
Her hand rested lightly over her stomach again - a habit now, small and unconscious.
She didn't even realize she did it.
Leo stirred beside her.
"You're still awake," he murmured.
She turned her head slightly.
"So are you."
He opened one eye.
"Guilty."
She smiled faintly.
"Watching me?"
"Listening."
She raised an eyebrow.
"To what?"
"To your breathing."
That made her pause.
"Is it different?"
"No."
"Then why listen?"
He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her.
"Because I like knowing you're here."
Her chest tightened.
She didn't respond immediately.
That vulnerability still surprised her.
Not his.
Hers.
"I keep thinking about the appointment," she admitted quietly.
"Two weeks."
"Yes."
He rubbed her arm gently.
"We'll go."
"That doesn't guarantee anything."
His hand stilled.
"You're right."
She looked at him.
He continued.
"It doesn't guarantee outcomes. Nothing does."
Her throat tightened slightly.
"That's not comforting."
"It's honest."
She exhaled slowly.
"I hate not being in control."
He smiled faintly.
"Welcome to life."
She rolled her eyes.
"Don't be philosophical at 2 AM."
He laughed softly.
"Noted."
Silence again.
This time it wasn't heavy.
Just thoughtful.
After a while, she whispered,
"Do you ever regret it?"
He frowned.
"Regret what?"
"This."
She gestured vaguely.
"Everything happening so fast."
He studied her.
"No."
Her gaze dropped.
"Not even a little?"
He reached for her hand.
"Aria."
She looked up.
"I'm serious."
So was he.
"I don't regret you. I don't regret this. I don't regret the life we're building."
Her eyes searched his.
"You're very sure."
"Yes."
"Even though it complicates things?"
He smirked slightly.
"Life was already complicated."
She huffed softly.
"Fair."
He squeezed her hand.
"We adjust."
That word again.
Adjust.
Not surrender.
Not erase.
Adjust.
She repeated it in her head.
It sounded manageable.
"I wish I could fast forward," she confessed.
"To what?"
"To knowing."
He understood immediately.
Whether everything was okay.
Whether the cramps were nothing.
Whether the tiny heartbeat they had seen would keep beating.
Uncertainty was exhausting.
He pulled her closer.
"We can't fast forward," he said gently.
"I know."
"But we can get through it."
She leaned into him.
"I'm trying."
"That's enough."
Her eyes closed for a moment.
She wasn't tired.
But she wanted rest.
Not just physical.
Mental.
"You think I'll be a good mother?" she asked suddenly.
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
She opened her eyes.
"Because you have to say that?"
"No."
She searched his expression.
He continued.
"Because you care. Because you think about things. Because you want to do it right."
Her throat tightened.
"I don't even know what right looks like."
"No one does."
She smiled faintly.
"That's not reassuring."
"It's true."
She turned slightly to face him.
"What if I fail?"
His expression softened.
"You won't."
"That's not a guarantee."
He cupped her face gently.
"Aria."
She swallowed.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
His thumb brushed her cheek.
"Parenthood isn't perfection. It's showing up."
She blinked.
"Is that your profound wisdom?"
He grinned.
"Pretty good, right?"
She laughed softly.
It surprised her.
Not the laughter.
That it still existed.
Even now.
Even with uncertainty.
He kissed her forehead.
"You're going to be fine."
She wanted to believe him.
She really did.
"I hope so."
"You will."
Silence settled again.
But it wasn't uncomfortable.
Just quiet.
Shared.
After a while, she whispered,
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not making me feel crazy."
He smiled.
"You're not crazy."
She rolled her eyes.
"Debatable."
He tightened his arm around her.
"You're human."
That word landed softly.
Human.
Flawed.
Thinking.
Feeling.
Trying.
She rested her head against his shoulder.
"I don't want to mess this up."
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you care."
That logic wasn't bulletproof.
But it helped.
She closed her eyes.
"I'm scared."
"I know."
"You're not?"
"Of course I am."
She looked up at him.
"You don't seem it."
He exhaled slowly.
"I'm choosing not to let it control me."
That was different.
Not absence of fear.
Choice.
She considered it.
"I wish I was better at that."
"You already are."
She smirked slightly.
"You're very generous."
"I'm truthful."
She sighed.
"I don't feel strong."
"You don't have to."
She frowned.
"That's not what people say."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Who are these people?"
"Society."
He laughed softly.
"Society can mind its business."
She smiled.
Just a little.
"Revolutionary opinion."
He kissed her temple.
"I'm full of them."
The clock ticked quietly.
02:34 AM.
Time kept moving.
They couldn't stop it.
But they could move with it.
She took a slow breath.
"I think I'll sleep."
"Good."
"Don't snore."
He gasped dramatically.
"I do not snore."
She grinned.
"Debatable."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Lies."
She closed her eyes.
"Goodnight, Leo."
"Goodnight, Aria."
He stayed awake a little longer.
Not because he was anxious.
Because he wanted to listen.
To her breathing.
Steady.
Alive.
For now.
That was enough.
