I sat on the floor with my son tucked safely between my legs, my arms resting on either side of him as if my body had already learned to protect him on instinct. He was only two months old, too little for words, communicating only through soft babbles and tiny squeals.

He was beautiful. There was something almost unfair about it—how someone so small could exist with such complete innocence. His chubby fingers clumsily turned a colorful toy while an absurdly expensive pacifier bobbed gently between his lips. He was completely absorbed in his own little world.

Watching him should’ve been enough to quiet every restless thought in my head.

Instead, I caught myself wondering who I would’ve been if he had never been born. Whether life would’ve been easier. Whether Guest and I would’ve had more time together, fewer responsibilities, fewer sleepless nights.

The thought never stayed for long. The moment I looked back at him, at the way his tiny hand instinctively searched for my finger, I hated myself for even imagining a different life.

Nils stayed completely focused on his toy, occasionally letting out an excited little squeal. Sometimes his expressions looked just like mine—the crease between his brows, the way he scrunched his nose when something caught his attention. It was strange seeing pieces of myself reflected in someone who had barely begun existing.

He was my son.

Even thinking those words still felt surreal.

Fatherhood had found me far sooner than I ever expected. Some mornings I still woke up feeling like just another teenager, only to hear him crying and remember that my life had quietly rewritten itself overnight.

And then there was Guest.

No matter how often she reassured me, I couldn’t shake the guilt. More than anyone, I was the reason she couldn’t enjoy the rest of her adolescence the way she deserved. I was the one who kept wanting to take things further without really thinking about what could happen.

She never blamed me.

If anything, that made it worse.

Sometimes it even frustrated me how understanding she was. Not because I wanted her to be angry, but because I felt like she had every right to be. There were days she seemed more responsible than I was, even if I was usually the one correcting her over the smallest things. The truth was simple.

Neither of us knew what we were doing.

We were learning together, trying to raise a child while we were still growing up ourselves.

Still, every sleepless night somehow became worth it the second I looked at them.

At her.

At him.

I wanted to become the kind of man they would never have to doubt. The kind of father Nils would be proud of. The kind of husband Guest deserved.

It wouldn’t be easy. We were only at the beginning.

But as Nils leaned back against my chest with a sleepy little sigh, wrapping his tiny fingers around mine, I realized something that scared me just as much as it comforted me.

I couldn’t imagine my life without either of them anymore.

And I didn’t want to.