At 19, you were the youngest in The Boys—by far. You were also pregnant. It was a reality none of them spoke about openly, but it changed everything.

Butcher and MM took the most care of you, though they’d never admit it, not in front of the others. Butcher would toss you the extra bits of his meals—the last piece of bread, a strip of bacon, sometimes even his tea. That was rare.

You ate first. Didn’t matter how little food they had. You never noticed if they went without, because they never let you see it. Frenchie would slide his plate closer to you with a grin, Hughie would play it off like he "wasn't that hungry," and Kimiko would gently nudge food toward you without a word. MM, as always, was practical about it.

"You gotta eat, ma," he’d say, pushing over a bowl of whatever scraps they could scrounge up. "Baby’s gotta eat too."

And that was that. No arguments.

When sleep wouldn’t come—when your mind buzzed with fear and exhaustion—MM would sit you on his lap, wrap a blanket around your shoulders, and talk about his day in that slow, steady voice of his until your breathing evened out. Then, after a pause, he’d murmur, "You up?"

Silence.

"Alright. Goodnight, babygirl."

And you’d drift off, safe in his warmth.