Kai POV

The ride home from the doctor's office felt like a slow descent into something dark. The car hummed beneath us, a constant, low vibration that seemed to echo the unsettled rhythm of my thoughts. My grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles were white, my fingers clenching as if I could somehow hold on to something real—something that would keep everything from spiraling out of control.

Avery sat beside me, a still figure in the passenger seat, his eyes locked on the window. I could barely see his reflection in the glass, but I could feel the distance between us, thick and suffocating.

I hated it.

I hated the silence more than anything.

Every minute that passed without him saying anything felt like an eternity. It was like he was slipping away from me, but I had no idea why.

I had imagined this moment differently. I'd expected something… raw, maybe. Maybe even a little messy. But not this—this cold, unbearable silence that choked the air between us. Every word I wanted to say felt trapped in my throat, but I couldn't make myself speak. Not yet.

When we finally pulled into the parking lot, I killed the engine, but didn't make any move to get out. My pulse pounded in my ears, matching the frantic pace of my heart. The tension in the car was unbearable, like we were sitting on the edge of something that could break at any moment. I could feel my hands trembling on the wheel, and I had to force myself to unclench them before I hurt something.

Avery didn't wait for me. Without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out, heading toward the apartment with a kind of mechanical precision. His movements were robotic, his back straight and rigid, like he was determined to keep his distance from me. The weight of that unspoken barrier between us felt heavier than anything I'd ever known.

I stayed in the car for a moment longer, trying to catch my breath, but I couldn't. I followed him, every step toward the house feeling like an effort, my body screaming for me to just fix it—to make everything okay again. But how could I, when I didn't even understand what was wrong?

Inside, Avery dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, the sound of them hitting the floor too loud in the otherwise silent room. I couldn't help but watch him as he moved about, his eyes focused on nothing in particular, his posture stiff. There was a kind of emptiness to the way he moved, like he was trying to shut himself off from me.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to speak.

"Are you hungry?"

My voice came out rougher than I expected, and I hated the way it sounded.

Avery didn't look at me, but his voice was quieter than usual when he replied.

"Not really."

"Alright," I said, a knot of frustration tightening in my chest. "I'm going to the corner store." I felt like I needed to do something, anything, to get some control over the situation. "You need to eat something."

Avery gave me a glance, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Kai, you don't have to—"

"I want to," I cut him off, grabbing my keys. "Just stay here. Relax. I'll be back soon."

The air outside hit me like a slap in the face. It was cold, a sharp reminder of the distance between us, the space I couldn't seem to bridge no matter how hard I tried. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I walked toward the corner store, each step a struggle. My mind kept replaying everything that had happened at the doctor's office, every word, every glance, the way Avery had shut down.

What was going on with him? Why was he acting like this?

I tried to push the thoughts away, but they only grew louder.

Was I wrong to want this? To want a family? I had always imagined a future with Avery. A future where we were together, building something real, something stable. But now—now everything felt uncertain. What if he didn't want this? What if I was the only one who did? What if I was pushing him too hard, making him feel trapped?

The thought gnawed at me as I grabbed snacks off the shelves, trying to pick things Avery might actually eat. I wasn't sure what he liked anymore. He'd been so distant lately, even more so since we found out about the pregnancy.

Did he even want the pregnancy?

I couldn't help but wonder. I had been so caught up in the excitement of it all—the idea of a family, of Avery and me raising a child together—that I hadn't stopped to think about what it meant for him. Avery was young. Too young, maybe. He had his whole life ahead of him, or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

But then there was the possibility that he didn't feel ready, that he might resent me for pushing him into this. Or worse—resent the baby.

I hated myself for even thinking it.

By the time I made it back home, my chest was tight, a pressure building between my ribs. I felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, my own fears, and nothing seemed to make it better.

Avery was still on the couch when I walked in. He was curled up, his legs tucked under him like he was trying to make himself small, trying to disappear. He looked up when I came in, his expression softening just a little, but the smile he gave me didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You didn't have to go overboard," he said, eyeing the bag of snacks I set on the table.

"I wanted to," I said, sitting beside him, my heart hammering in my chest. I needed him to understand. "It's the least I can do."

Avery reached for the iced tea and twisted the cap off, taking a long sip.

"Thanks," he said, his voice almost hesitant.

I watched him, my insides twisting. I didn't know how to fix this, didn't know how to make him open up. Every time I tried, he seemed to pull further away.

I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Avery," I said, my voice coming out rough. I wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but they spilled out before I could stop them. "We need to talk. About this." I gestured to the space between us, to everything that felt wrong.

He tensed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "About what?" His voice was sharp, but there was an edge of something else underneath it—something fragile.

"About what's next," I said, my pulse racing. "About what you want."

Avery's face hardened, and he set the iced tea down with a little more force than necessary. "What I want?" His tone was sharp, like he was trying to distance himself from the question. "This isn't just about me, Kai."

"I know that," I said quickly, my palms pressing into my thighs. "But I'm terrified, Avery. I've dreamed of this—a family with you. And now it's happening, and I don't know what to do if you decide you don't want it."

Avery's eyes flashed with something—frustration, anger, maybe even hurt. He stood abruptly, his body tense with emotion.

"You think this is easy for me? That I haven't been wrestling with this since we found out?"

His voice cracked on the last word, and I could hear the weight of his own fear, of everything he was holding back.

"I'm not saying it's easy," I said, my voice rising despite myself. "But you've barely said a word since the doctor's office. I'm trying to understand where you're at, but I feel like I'm drowning here, Avery."

"Drowning?" He laughed, but it wasn't a laugh—it was bitter, empty. "I'm the one who's pregnant, Kai. I'm the one whose body is going to change, whose life is going to change in ways I can't even predict. Do you think I'm not terrified?" His voice cracked at the end, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

The rawness in his words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had never seen him like this—so open, so vulnerable—and I hated that it had taken all of this to get him to this point.

"I know you are," I said quietly, my chest tight with guilt. I stepped closer to him, but I didn't know what to do with myself. "But you don't have to do this alone, Avery. I'm not going anywhere."

Avery's shoulders trembled, his voice barely audible. "I don't want this to ruin everything for you," he whispered, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I'm scared I'll be too selfish. Too young. What if I mess it all up?"

"You won't," I said firmly, stepping closer, my hand reaching out. "You're more than enough. We'll figure this out together. You're not alone in this."

Avery looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed, his face a picture of torment. "But what if trying isn't enough?" he whispered, almost to himself.

I reached out, cupping his face in my hands. "It will be," I said softly. "Because we're not doing this alone. We're in this together, Avery. That's all we can do, and it will be enough."

Avery closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and when he opened them again, there was something different in his gaze—a softness, a quiet acceptance.

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But… I'm not walking away from this, not if you really want it." His voice wavered, but his words were steady.

My heart leapt in my chest, a rush of relief so overwhelming it almost knocked me off balance. "You mean… you're keeping it?" I asked, my voice breaking.

Avery nodded, the tension in his body easing just slightly. "Yeah. I'm keeping it. We'll figure it out together."

And for the first time since we left the doctor's office, I felt like I could breathe again.

"Thank you," I whispered, brushing my thumb over his cheek.

Avery leaned into my touch, his eyes sliding closed as he let out a shuddering breath. "Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "We still have a long way to go."

I nodded, my heart full.

"We'll figure it out. Together."