"Oh my God, I don't think I've ever been that scared before. The thought of having a baby was terrifying—but nothing compared to the moment she was actually born."
The hospital elevator doors slid open, and Brian stepped out with a shaky breath. As the doors closed behind him, it hit him—there was no going back now. He was a father. His life had just changed forever.
With heavy steps, he walked down the corridor, his boots echoing faintly on the tile floor. At the far end of the hall, he saw both his family and Michelle's family gathered, crying. The sight made his stomach twist—what if something had happened to the baby?
He looked down at himself. He had rushed here straight from work, still in his filthy clothes. His white T-shirt, damp with sweat, was tucked into his dusty work pants. A pair of pliers stuck out of his back pocket on one side, a crumpled pair of gloves on the other. His forearms were scratched from steel wires, and despite the chilly March night, he'd come in a short-sleeved shirt. It was two in the morning, and the air outside was freezing.
"Are you okay, son?" his mother asked through tears.
Brian looked at her for a moment, then around the room. Everything felt silent—he was so overwhelmed with fear that the crying around him seemed like mourning. Could it be tears of joy? He wasn't sure.
"N-Why is everyone crying?" he finally managed to ask.
"Because," his mother said, wiping her cheeks,
"The children both families fought so hard to raise… have now become parents themselves. Congratulations, son. You're a father."
Those words made Brian feel a little lighter. He wiped his face from his cheek down with a trembling hand. As he looked around, his eyes landed on Michelle's mother—and a man he assumed was her boyfriend.
He hugged Michelle's mother quickly. "Where is she?" he asked.
She pointed to a room down the hall. Brian took a deep breath and walked toward it, feeling his father's proud gaze on his back.
As soon as he stepped inside and turned to close the door—
"Hey, you," Michelle said weakly. She looked at him with tired, half-closed eyes, her face pale and exhausted from labor.
Brian rushed to her side and grabbed her hands. Before he could even ask if she was okay, Michelle started speaking:
"I didn't want you to worry, love. That's why I didn't call. I wasn't even sure I was in labor, and I didn't want to distract you while you were at work. If you're mad, be mad later—otherwise, I'll beat your ass."
She smiled weakly and blew him a kiss.
"Where's the baby?" Brian asked, still shaken.
When he learned the baby was being cleaned, it didn't calm him. The fear still clawed at his chest. Maybe it was the weight of becoming a father—but he was terrified.
"We're going to do great, baby. I know it," he said. "Even with the Desmond sit—"
"Don't. Not today," Michelle cut him off.
"Today, we both became parents. We have money in our pockets, a car in the driveway, and a warm house to raise our daughter in. Whatever comes—we'll face it together."
"Together," Brian repeated.
Tears streamed down both their faces. Brian knelt at her bedside, clutching her hands near his face. As he cried, he felt the weight of everything they'd been through, and how deeply he loved this woman.
"Will you marry me?" he asked softly.
Michelle let out a tired laugh. "You really think I need to answer that… Dad?"
Then she added, "Idiot."
Just then, the nurse entered with their newborn daughter in her arms. Brian stood up, and Michelle slowly adjusted herself to a seated position on the bed.
"Congratulations," said the nurse, smiling. "She's beautiful. I guarantee she's going to have boys lined up for her."
"Haha, well… she didn't get that from her mom then," Brian joked.
Michelle and the nurse both gave him a look.
"Sorry. Bad timing," Brian muttered.
When the nurse left, Michelle scooted over and Brian lay next to her. They stared at their baby in silence.
"I'll give you the best life, my love," Michelle whispered. "We'll live off your daddy's money together."
"All of it's yours," Brian said.
"You're marrying the most beautiful woman alive and you just had the most beautiful daughter in the world. Of course it's gonna be ours."
They laughed, a laughter that didn't erase the trauma they still carried—but for a moment, it dulled the pain.
Afterward, Brian stepped outside to call the families in. Then he stepped out front, lit a cigarette, and stared out over Los Angeles from the hospital's terrace.
His hands were trembling.
His short-sleeved shirt clung cold and wet to his skin.
The sweat had dried, but the night wind cut through him.
He kept coughing, couldn't stop. The cold he'd caught two days ago was still clinging to him like it owned him.
"Damn… my life's just gettin' started."
he whispered to himself, taking a shaky drag.
Back home, Michelle was struggling.
Brian's fever wouldn't go down, and now she was trying to care for a newborn alone. She was exhausted—physically and mentally.
No experience. No siblings. No cousins with babies. No clue.
So Lena Easton, Brian's mother, had started staying the night.
"Go get the diaper, sweetheart. She peed again," Lena said from the nursery, gently rocking the baby.
"Here you go, Lena. I'll check on Brian real quick," Michelle replied, heading upstairs.
She opened the door to their bedroom.
Brian lay shirtless under the blanket, shivering. Just a pair of shorts on, drenched in sweat—but bundled like it was a snowstorm.
"What did I tell you? No blankets. You need to sweat it out!"
"I'm freezing my balls off, woman. What do you want from me?"
His whole body shook, voice raspy.
Michelle crossed her arms, standing at the door.
"Didn't look too cold when you were chattin' it up with that blonde nurse on the terrace though, did you?"
Brian groaned. "I told you, she just came to say congrats. We talked for, like, five minutes. That's it. Don't start, baby."
Michelle raised an eyebrow.
"Anyway. My mom and her boyfriend are takin' your ass back to the hospital."
She turned to leave, then looked back over her shoulder:
"A different hospital."
⸻
Brian sat in the backseat, shivering. Marcus—the boyfriend—rolled the window down to smoke, and Brian nearly snapped.
Up front, Vivian—Michelle's mother—was blasting music like it was a road trip.
Brian sat there, curled into himself, wishing they'd just get to the damn hospital already.
Back home, Lena rocked the baby to sleep while Michelle made soup in the kitchen, thinking:
"She came to say congrats, huh?
Wish I'd grabbed her by her blonde hair and tossed her off that terrace.
Stupid blonde bitch."
⸻
At the hospital:
"What seems to be the issue?" the nurse asked.
"Cold. Fever."
She handed Brian a waiting number and pointed him toward the lobby.
He sat down. Vivian joined him. Marcus didn't even get out of the car.
"Michelle doesn't really like Marcus," Brian muttered.
"What?"
"Michelle doesn't like him. Honestly, neither do I. He's an asshole. Where'd you find him?"
Vivian rolled her eyes. "You don't get to comment on my love life. We love each other."
"Right. Sure you do." Brian leaned back in his chair.
He hesitated… then gave in.
"Vivian… don't take this the wrong way, but Michelle's never really told me… and I never asked, but… what happened to her dad?"
Vivian went quiet.
She stared at him.
Then looked down. Pressed her lips together. Inhaled sharply through her nose.
"He cheated," she said flatly. "So we divorced."
Brian narrowed his eyes.
"C'mon, Vivian. You really expect me to believe that's all there was? If it was just cheating, Michelle would still talk to him. She'd at least mention him. I'm not trying to dig—but don't lie to me."
Vivian sat there a moment.
Then:
"I don't want to talk about it. Michelle has her reasons for not telling you. I've got mine too. All I'll say is—I hope that son of a bitch dies."
"Alright," Brian muttered.
He turned back toward the waiting area.
But his mind was spinning.
"What the hell did that guy do…? What could Michelle's dad have done that hurt them this bad?"
Just then, his name flashed on the screen. He stood and walked toward the exam room.
At back home, Michelle finally got the baby to sleep.
She was exhausted. She hadn't slept properly in two days—trying to care for the baby and Brian.
And now she was stuck thinking about names.
"Denise? Catherine? Ugh… no. None of these work. Why is this so hard?"
A few hours later, Brian came back from the hospital. He drank Michelle's soup like it was sent from heaven.
Michelle leaned against the counter, arms crossed, tongue pressed against her upper teeth, staring at him.
"So… which blondes did you flirt with today, handsome?"
Brian nearly choked.
"God, please… I wish my jaw broke so I couldn't have even talked to her."
"Same," Michelle said. Then smirked.
She kissed the air toward him.
Then pulled out a chair, sat down, and said:
"I think I found a name."
Brian perked up. She was glowing.
"I've been thinking about it for two days and nothing felt right. But just now… it hit me.
Esther.
What do you think?"
Brian smiled, wiped his mouth.
"It's a great name, babe."
Michelle lit up.
"Right? At first I wasn't sure, but now I really love it."
"Yeah… if we lived in 1920."
"What?"
"I mean, you did great. Really. But I was thinking maybe something a bit more modern. Like Zoe."
"Right. Let's name her after a zoo while we're at it," Michelle said, deadpan.
They both cracked up.
They spent hours trying to find a name.
And that night, still had nothing.
The next morning, after finally sleeping through the night, Michelle woke up in a panic. She rushed downstairs to check on the baby—only to find Brian sitting on the couch, holding their daughter in his arms.
She'd seen more breathtaking views in her life, sure. But nothing like this.
It was the first time she saw the man she loved… holding the daughter they'd made together.
Brian hadn't dared get too close before—being sick and all. But now, he looked better. Sweaty still, coughing a bit, but functional. And smiling.
"Look, look who's here," he said softly, rocking her. "Mommy's up. There's Mommy."
Michelle came over, sat beside him, and joined in.
The baby couldn't understand a word, obviously. She just lay there, blinking slowly. But if she could talk, she'd probably say:
"Can you two shut up for like two seconds? I'm trying to vibe."
Lena's voice echoed from the kitchen. She'd made breakfast and was calling them in.
After breakfast, Michelle and Brian stepped outside to smoke. They'd agreed to never smoke inside again—not with a baby in the house.
"I've got the perfect wedding plan," Brian said, lighting his cigarette.
"Oh yeah? Let's hear this perfect wedding plan," Michelle replied, throwing up air quotes with her fingers.
Brian started rambling. Paris. Lights. A river. Fireworks. Fancy-ass food.
The more he talked, the more Michelle smiled.
He thought it was because she liked the idea. She just liked him.
"So what do you think?"
Michelle exploded into laughter.
Not just a giggle—full-on, losing-her-mind, breathless laughter. She dropped to her knees, hid her face between her legs, and just… howled.
"That good, huh?" Brian said, arms crossed.
"It's genius, baby. Fucking genius," Michelle choked out through the laughter. "I can't breathe, holy shit."
"Yeah yeah. Don't worry, I'll never suggest anything again."
Still laughing, she reached up and grabbed his arm.
"No, no—don't be mad. Come here, give me a kiss."
"Nope."
"Come on, don't run. Where you goin', huh?"
"Don't touch me."
"Hahaha, okay okay, come back, I'm done!"
They laughed together—two exhausted, beat-up souls who'd made it through hell and still managed to laugh.
The guests stood. Music played. The officiant walked to the center of the ceremony space.
Brian stood there, frozen, staring ahead.
Michelle walked in, eyes locked on his.
The officiant spoke:
"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Brian Easton and Michelle Flores in marriage.
This is not just the joining of two people, but the beginning of a lifelong partnership."
Then came the vows.
Michelle went first.
"Brian… ever since we became friends, I knew how lucky I was.
For years, I couldn't help but think…
'God, I wish he wasn't just my best friend. I wish he was the father of my kids. I wish he was mine.'
And now, that tiny voice in the back of my mind…
is reality.
I'll love you until I die."
Brian took a shaky breath and began his.
"Marrying you… it's not because we had a baby.
It's because after everything we've been through, I fell in love with you.
If I could go back in time and change everything, I'd tell my mom to drop me off at your house when we were still babies—so I could spend the last twenty-two years with you.
Our friendship.
Our respect.
Our love.
It's forever.
I love you, Michelle Flores."
The officiant stepped forward again.
"Do you, Brian, take Michelle to be your lawfully wedded wife—to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"And do you, Michelle, take Brian to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do."
The applause was deafening.
They weren't just best friends anymore.
They weren't just lovers.
They were husband and wife.
Just a year ago, none of this seemed possible.
Now it was real.
And they were happy.
People were dancing, laughing, drinking. Michelle looked like a goddess in her dress. Brian sat on a chair, watching her float around the guests like she owned the place.
"How can one person look that perfect in a wedding dress?"
he thought.
Later that night, they sat together, exhausted from dancing.
Brian threw his arm around her and asked:
"Hey… when did you come up with the name 'Love'? For our daughter?"
Michelle smirked.
"You've been holding onto that for a month?"
"Yeah. I think about it a lot. Honestly… I think we picked the most beautiful name possible."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
They sat in peace.
But sometimes, when things feel too perfect, a strange fear creeps in.
"Why is everything going so well?"
Not in an ungrateful way.
Just… confused.
Brian had that thought too.
And then—like a slap from the universe—
A voice cut through the music:
"STOP THE WEDDING!"
Everyone froze.
And there, standing in the entrance like a ghost from their past—
Was Theo.