Chapter Text
“Baby's all right.”
Nick's chest tightened at Rosalee's gentle words—a chaotic blend of dread, guilt, and anger knotting inside him. Relief should've come easily, yet it remained elusive. His heart pounded heavily, each beat resonating with uncertainty.
Adalind was behind that door—with their baby.
Just acknowledging the child as his felt like stepping off a ledge. For a fleeting moment, he considered walking away, leaving the weight of everything behind. But he couldn't—too much had changed.
"And Adalind?" Nick asked, his voice betraying a hint of his internal turmoil.
"She's exhausted," Rosalee answered softly. "But okay."
He exhaled slowly, releasing a fraction of the tension he'd carried since Adalind had shattered his carefully built world by pressing his hand to her belly, altering his life irrevocably.
"Can I go in?" Rosalee gave a gentle nod. "She’d like that."
Nick moved forward, feeling an inevitable pull toward the unknown. He thanked Rosalee quietly, barely aware of speaking, before stepping through the doorway.
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Adalind sensed his presence immediately—a shift in the air, charged and uncertain. Her heart quickened despite the exhaustion weighing her down. He'd come; of course he'd come. It was the right thing, and Nick always chose right, even when it cost him.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, visibly cautious. She met his eyes hesitantly, swallowing back nerves. "Better now. I wasn't sure you'd want to be here." Her words hovered, vulnerable between them. She didn't expect kindness, yet a part of her desperately hoped for it, if only for their son's sake.
"I don’t know. Maybe you don’t. But… you’re here.”
Nick hesitated, his gaze flickering between her and the baby, uncertainty clouding his expression.
She takes a breath. If she doesn’t say it now, she might never. "Don't hate me anymore, Nick. For our son's sake, we can't be like we were. I don't want to raise him by myself. He's as much you as he is me."
"I don't know if that's good on either side,” Nick murmured bitterly.
"Well… maybe he won't be like either one of us," she whispered, hope shimmering fragilely.
Nick stiffened, her words hitting a painful nerve. He'd hated her deeply; that hatred felt justified. But now everything was impossibly complicated.
“I know I can’t force you to be there for him,” she says quietly.
“I will be," Nick replied firmly, his tone offering no room for doubt.
"Do you want to hold him?" she asked softly, uncertainty and hope intertwined.
He hesitated—not out of fear, but recognition of the significance this act held, the permanence of it.
"He won't break," she encouraged gently.
With cautious tenderness, Nick took the baby. A warmth spread through him, quiet and unexpected. The walls he'd built so carefully trembled slightly, vulnerability slipping through the cracks.
"I thought of a name," Adalind ventured softly.
Nick's body tensed reflexively. "Shouldn't we—"
"Kelly."
The name struck—his mother's memory rising sharply, painful yet comforting. There was no manipulation here, just Adalind’s quiet sincerity.
Nick's shoulders relaxed slowly as he exhales. "Okay."
His eyes briefly met hers, something unspoken passing between them before he turned his attention fully to the child. The past was heavy, tangled, and hurtful. But at this moment, holding Kelly, everything else faded into irrelevance.