Chapter 58 – “When the Crib Doesn’t Fit”

The box sat in the middle of the living room like a question neither of them wanted to answer.

Not because it was complicated. Not even because it was heavy.But because it was real.

Will stood over the unopened crib parts with the manual in hand, frowning as if it were a high-stakes contract. Eliza leaned against the kitchen island, half-laughing, half-terrified, sipping ginger tea because coffee had become one of the many betrayals of pregnancy.

"Did you know there are fifteen different screws in this thing?" he muttered. "And none of them are labeled logically."

"I'm just impressed you're reading the instructions at all," she teased.

"I'm trying to build our child a structurally sound future, Eliza. The least I can do is not give them tetanus on day one."

She smiled, but it faded quickly when her gaze swept the apartment.

It felt... tight. Cluttered. Like the life they were about to have was outgrowing the life they'd been living.

"Do you ever think we waited too long?" she asked quietly.

Will glanced up. "To build the crib?"

"To move. To start this whole next chapter. We're still in the same apartment where we first kissed. Where we first fought. Where I realized I loved you and hated you all at once."

"I like that history," he said simply. "It made us who we are."

"But it's not going to be enough for who we're becoming."

Will set down the manual and crossed to her. His hands found her waist, thumbs resting gently on the subtle swell of her belly.

"We'll find somewhere new," he said. "Somewhere that fits—not just the crib, but the life we're building."

Her eyes lifted to his. "Promise?"

"Promise."

She leaned into him, letting the moment carry her for a breath or two.

Then: "I still don't think that screw goes there."

"Are you telling me how to build things now?" he asked, mock-offended.

"I'm just trying to prevent a headline that reads 'Former Billionaire Hospitalized After Crib Collapse.'"

He laughed, kissed her temple, and went back to work.

And even though the walls of their apartment felt closer than ever, so did their future—pressing in, not like a threat, but like a hand on her back. Guiding her forward.