Mag-log inEmily’s POV The first days home felt like holding something incredibly precious — and incredibly fragile — in the palms of my hands. Every moment was soft and blurry, stitched together by sleepiness and wonder and the quiet, constant rhythm of Maya. Time didn’t move in hours anymore. It moved in feeds, in naps, in the tiny, perfect stretch of her arms when she woke, in the way she curled into our chests like she’d never been anywhere else. We were tired — so, so tired. Nights melted into days. Morning light would find us still in bed, tangled together, Maya asleep between us, her little face tucked close to mine. But I never felt alone. Not once. Alex was there, every single time — getting up before I could even shift, changing her diaper with a sleepy grin, murmuring to her in that low, gentle voice that made everything feel safe. He was a natural. Truly. I’d watch him from the bed, half-asleep, as he lifted her into his arms — so careful, like she was made of sunlight — and rocke
Alex’s POVThe hours stretched soft and endless after we walked through those hospital doors — warm lights, quiet voices, the steady beep of machines, and Emily, always Emily, right beside me, gripping my hand so tight I thought my bones might ache. I never stepped away. Not to sit, not to drink, not to breathe without her. Every time she breathed hard, I breathed with her. Every time she squeezed my hand, I squeezed back twice as hard. Every time she leaned back exhausted, I wiped her face, kissed her forehead, told her — You’re incredible. You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.She didn’t give up. Not once. Even when it was long, even when it hurt, even when she whispered, “I don’t know if I can,” she held on, and I held her, and together we kept going.And then — the room shifted. The nurse’s voice softened. “She’s coming. One more big push, Emily — you’re almost there.”I leaned in, my forehead pressed to hers, my voice nothing but breath. “You’ve got this, Em. Look at me. I’m rig
Alex’s POVThe house was quiet, the kind of deep, soft quiet that settles in long after the lamps have been turned low and the world outside has gone still. I was half-asleep, drifting in that warm space between waking and dreaming, my arm draped heavy over Emily’s waist, when I felt it — her body tense, a sharp, quiet breath drawn in beside me.I shifted instantly, fully awake in a heartbeat. “Em? You okay?”She didn’t answer right away. Her hand found mine in the dark, fingers curling tight around my knuckles, holding on like she needed something steady to ground her. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… that felt different.”I sat up, turning on the small lamp beside the bed. Soft golden light spilled across the sheets, and I looked at her — her face glowing in the gentle glow, one hand resting low on her bump, eyes wide and bright with something that wasn’t quite fear, wasn’t quite excitement — just wonder.“Different how?”“Like… a tightening. Low down. Stronger than the usual ones.” She took
Alex’s POVThe arena looked different when I walked through the doors that morning. Brighter. The same high ceilings, the same blue seats, the same familiar scent of ice and rubber and floor wax — but something had shifted. The weight was gone. The air didn’t feel heavy anymore. No one was watching from the shadows. No one was timing my laps or counting my strides or deciding how much I was worth.This was just… ice. Just a game. Just mine, if I wanted it.I stood by the locker room entrance for a long moment, one hand resting on the cool metal frame, breathing it in. Some of the guys were already there — pulling on skates, laughing, calling to each other across the room. No one stared. No one whispered. Jax looked over, caught my eye, and gave a short, easy nod — nothing more. No jab, no smirk, no dig. Just hey. Like I belonged.I changed slowly, pulling on the gear I hadn’t touched in weeks, every piece feeling unfamiliar and right all at once. When I stepped out onto the ice, the c
Alex’s POVI woke before the sun did. The room was still grey and quiet, and for a second that old familiar tightness gripped my chest — the cold twist of anxiety, the voice that used to tell me I wasn’t enough, that I’d mess it all up, that I’d never really be free. Then I felt it: Emily’s hand resting over mine, warm and solid, her breathing soft and steady beside me. And the tightness softened. Not gone — not entirely — but shared.I shifted gently, careful not to wake her, but her eyes fluttered open anyway. “You’re up.” Her voice was thick with sleep, soft and calm.“Couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, sitting up and scrubbing a hand over my face. “My mind kept running. Replaying every conversation, every lie, every moment I was afraid to speak up. What if I stumble? What if I get it wrong?”She sat up too, turning toward me, and cupped my face in her hands — warm, steady, sure. “Listen to me. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be honest. And you don’t have to do it alone. I
Emily’s POVSome days, I still stand in front of the mirror just to stare. To make sure it’s real. That this is happening — that after everything, after all the lies and the cages and the nights I thought I’d lose it all, I’m here, safe, happy, growing a life. My belly has rounded out, soft and warm and undeniable, a gentle curve that shows more every morning when I wake up. It’s not just a feeling anymore. It’s not just a possibility. It’s them. Our baby.And Alex? He’s completely, beautifully obsessed.It started small — a hand resting low on my back when we walked, a palm pressed gently to my side while we watched TV, his thumb moving in slow, steady circles like he was memorizing every change. But lately? It’s constant. He wakes up and the first thing he does is rest his hand over my bump and say good morning. He talks to the baby while he makes coffee, while we eat dinner, while we sit on the porch watching the sunset. He stops at every little shop in town whenever we drive into
Emily’s POVMy legs felt loose and heavy at the same time as I stumbled back toward the bar. The music pulsed louder in my ears, each beat slamming against my skull. Kara’s warning from moments ago still rang in my head, but I pushed it away. “Another one,” I told the bartender, slapping my hand
Emily’s POVMy body moved on its own, hips swaying harder than I ever had before, arms raised like I could push the pain out through my fingertips. The bass thumped inside my chest, matching the angry beat of my pulse. Sweat clung to my skin. The black dress rode up my thighs with every sharp turn
Emily’s POVI stared at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl looking back.The tight black dress Kara lent me hugged every curve, short enough to make me tug at the hem nervously. My eyes were still puffy from crying, but I’d managed to cover most of the redness with makeup. Lip glo
Emily’s POV Alex was carrying me through the pulsing club lights like I weighed nothing.One strong arm wrapped under my knees, the other supporting my back. My cheek pressed against his bare chest, still warm from where I’d collapsed into him moments ago. The bass vibrated through his body into m







