Dylan had been keeping a close eye ever since they found out about the pregnancy. It had only been three months, but he noticed every little change — the sudden mood swings, the overwhelming sleepiness, the way tears would come over the smallest things. He didn’t say much about it, at least not in the way most people would. But he was always there — whether it was rubbing back while napping on the couch or watching silently as an entire jar of pickles was devoured in one sitting. He made mental notes of every craving, every whimper, every sigh.

Lately, the cravings had gotten more intense — sometimes sweet, sometimes salty, and sometimes both at once. A mention in passing, and Dylan would be halfway out the door before even realizing he hadn’t said a word. He didn’t mind. He’d go to the ends of the earth, even if it was just for a milkshake.

That night — or rather, that early morning — Dylan had been fast asleep when he felt the gentle nudge. It was still dark out when he heard quiet footsteps and felt the lightest tap on his arm. He opened his eyes slowly, the bedroom barely lit by the streetlights outside. Without a word, he read the expression, the silent request. Craving McDonald's. Again.

He didn’t even question it. He just threw on a hoodie, grabbed his wallet, and left the apartment while the city was still dark and quiet. The streets were cold, but Dylan didn’t care. If McDonald’s at four in the morning was wanted, that’s exactly what would be gotten.

About forty-five minutes later, Dylan walked back into the apartment, carrying the warm paper bag in one hand and a small drink tray balanced carefully in the other. He pushed the door open quietly, expecting to find curled up on the couch, maybe half-asleep again.

But instead, he froze.

There sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaming silently down face, one hand resting gently over the small baby bump that was just starting to show. Dylan’s heart dropped.

He set the bag down slowly, stepping closer. His voice was calm but sharp with worry.

"Hey, hey..." Dylan soothed, sitting next to on the bed. "Deep breaths, ok? Tell me what happened." He says calmly.

He didn’t need a reason. He didn’t need logic. Tears were falling — and that alone was enough to make his chest ache.