OUR BABY

The rain had just stopped when Ava saw Liam running up her street, his sneakers splashing through puddles like they always did when they were kids. He was carrying two steaming cups of cocoa from the café down the road — one for her, one for him. “Thought you might need a rescue,” he said, handing her the cup with that familiar half-smile. Ava laughed softly. “From what? My own thoughts?” “Exactly. They’re dangerous.” They sat on the front porch of her house, the same spot where they’d shared countless afternoons growing up — trading secrets, teasing each other, dreaming about how fast they’d escape their small town someday. But lately, the silence between them had started to change. It wasn’t awkward, just… heavier. Like both were waiting for something neither dared to say. Ava had been quieter since her breakup, and Liam noticed every little thing — the way she stared at her phone, the fake smile she gave her mom, the tired look in her eyes. He didn’t push her to talk. He just showed up, like he always had. “Remember when we were twelve, and you said you’d never talk to me again because I forgot your birthday?” Liam asked, smirking. Ava rolled her eyes. “You got me a keychain the next day and said, ‘At least now you won’t lose your keys or me.’ You were such a dork.” He grinned. “Still am.” The sky was turning pink, the kind of evening that made everything feel possible and fragile at the same time. Ava leaned her head against the porch rail, looking at him — really looking. How did her best friend suddenly look like someone she might lose? She didn’t say it. Neither did he. But both felt the same quiet truth lingering in the space between them: something was shifting, and neither knew where it would take them. If it didn't take to something bad it's g