Chapter 15
It took fourteen weeks for my life to go from “this is kinda crazy” to “oh, we really building something.”
Disney had been perfect.
Kasen had gone full uncle/daddy mode and bought both girls princess dresses.
Kori in Tiana green, Serenity in Rapunzel purple, both of them twirling like they’d never known struggle.
He’d carried them when they got tired, stood in lines, taken pictures, held my waist absentmindedly while we watched fireworks.
That trip had made me realize that we weren’t just “talking” or “seeing where it goes.”
We were a unit.
Which, of course, made Troy act like a normal bitter baby daddy.
The minute he realized me and Kasen were official, co-parenting got harder on purpose. Thanksgiving he tried to “forget” our agreed pick-up time. Christmas Eve he suddenly “needed” Serenity overnight even though we’d already planned matching pajamas pictures at my parents’ house.
I adjusted.
I cussed him out in private, texted him in bullet points, and focused on one thing: Serenity wasn’t suffering. She was fed and loved. As long as that stayed true, he could tantrum alone.
On the good side of the chaos, I’d met Kasen’s people.
His mama and daddy had seen Serenity on FaceTime a handful of times with Kori, knew she was “Kori sister,” but it was complete shock that she was my daughter.
“You somebody mama?” she’d said to me. “You look like you still sneaking out the house for parties.”
Pops had pulled out baby pictures of Kasen like Serenity cared, telling stories about him taking apart the VCR at eight and trying to “fix” the microwave at ten. Serenity had eaten it up, eyes big as she learned “Batman used to be little.”
Kasen met my parents too.
He went to lunch with my father. They’d talked investments and college football like I wasn’t right there, but I saw the moment my daddy relaxed a little.
Meeting my mother was a different kind of test.
I’d asked, very clearly, “Mama, please don’t bring your husband,” and she’d actually respected it, showed up alone.
She’d looked Kasen up and down. “So you the boy with the glasses she keep pretending not to mention,” she’d said.
He’d almost choked on his water.
Somehow he still passed and somewhere between holidays, meet-the-parents, and surviving Troy’s drama?
The sex turned from “learning” to “I need recovery time.”
He’d gone from asking, “Show me,” to doing exactly what I needed without me opening my mouth. He learned my body too well—how to drag an orgasm out of me with just his mouth, how to get me shaking just from his hands on my nipples.
We’d just left dinner, steak for him, pasta I picked at for appearances, mocktail for me that the waiter kept calling “cute”and were headed back to his place.
He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm on my thigh like always.
“You okay?” he asked quietly at a red light, glancing over.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “You?”
“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth tilted. “Thank you. For tonight.”
“That was the warm-up,” I said. “Your real present at the house.”
His ears went pink immediately. “What you do.”
“You’ll see, birthday boy.”
“You want the shower first?” he asked.
“You go,” I said. “Birthday rules.”
He started to argue, then didn’t, He shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom with clean clothes over his arm.
The second the door shut, my stomach dropped.
I took a breath, grabbed my laptop from my tote, and connected it to his TV the way he’d shown me months ago, back when our “movie nights” had just been cartoons and friendly proximity.
The file was already queued up on my desktop:
US: ANIME EDIT.
I’d damn near emptied a savings envelope getting it made.
I had found the studio through a Twitter thread, sent them a ridiculous reference folder: screenshots of his favorite anime, pictures of the studio, tournament clips, grainy selfies of us that I pretended I hated taking but secretly loved.
And at the end of it was his real gift.
The thing I’d found out last month in a doctor’s office staring at a positive test and laughing like a lunatic.
Pregnant.
From the very first time we had sex.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d heard it before—virginity sex turning into pregnancy. So the fact that Kasen knocked me up after holding onto his for twenty-something years? God had jokes.
I’d done the blood test last week. Early genetic screen. They’d asked if I wanted to know the sex. I said yes, then immediately changed my mind and told them to email it to Steph instead, so I wouldn’t cheat.
Steph had forwarded it straight to the animator.
So I still didn’t know.
Boy or girl?
I was going to find out at the same time he did.
My palms were sweating by the time he walked back in, damp locs, clean T-shirt and sweats, smelling like his body wash.
He paused when he saw the TV.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Your last birthday present,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the remote. “Get over here.”
He climbed onto the bed, sat beside me, back against the headboard. His thigh brushed mine, familiar and distracting.
“You made a movie?” he teased.
“Do I sound like I know how to edit video?” I snorted. “Press play.”
He took the remote, hit the button.
The screen went black then music started—some dramatic anime-style orchestral thing I’d sent as a reference.
A HighVille skyline appeared., but not. Softer, drawn, neon edges.
Then a tall, broad-shouldered anime man walked into frame with locs, glasses, and a gold chain.
His eyebrows shot up. “What the?—”
Next, a shorter woman with big curls, tattoos, glossed lips, tiny smirk.
Me.
Little speech bubbles popped over our heads.
BATMAN.
STUDIO 7.
He actually laughed, low in his chest.
“You did not,” he said.
“I did,” I said. “Keep watching.”
The episode moved quickly.
A chibi Studio 7. Anime-Kasen installing cameras. Anime-me side-eyeing him. Tiny bat signals popping up whenever he got too serious. A quick montage of him at a gaming tournament, people chanting his name in Japanese.
Shots of anime-me teaching on reformers, shouting things like CORE TIGHT in stylized text. Chibi Serenity and Kori bouncing around Studio 7, beads clicking, tiny heart emojis over their heads.
He was quiet now, watching hard.
Then the animation slowed.
Anime-us sat on a rooftop together, city behind them. Little hearts floated up between our heads, then merged into a pixel heart with a small “LEVEL UP” banner.
On screen, the background blurred into soft colors. Our animated selves were in his apartment now, chibi versions tucked on a couch watching anime. A small calendar appeared in the corner.
Dates changed.
Fourteen weeks flew by.
Then anime-me walked into a cartoon doctor’s office, cartoon pee stick in hand, question marks floating over her head. Doctor-lady chibi nodded, little plus signs popped up, and my character burst out laughing with big “LOL” across the frame.
Kasen huffed under his breath. “Wow.”
The scene cut.
Now anime-him and anime-me stood in a simple white space, facing each other.
Slowly, his animated hand lifted and rested against her stomach.
The line drawing there glowed faintly.
A tiny, pixelated heartbeat icon appeared above the spot, pulsing gently.
Text slid across the bottom:
NEW QUEST UNLOCKED.
PLAYER 4 LOADING…
My throat tightened.
Kasen’s whole body went still.
The health bar at the top of the screen filled to 14/40.
14 WEEKS.
Estimated arrival: AUGUST.
He looked at me fast, then back at the TV, like he wasn’t sure if he should interrupt.
“Sevyn—”
“Shh,” I managed. “It’s almost done.”
The music softened.
On screen, little pixels swirled between our anime selves, forming a small shimmering shape. The doctor chibi reappeared in the corner holding a clipboard with DNA written across the top.
The pixels pulsed once, then snapped into focus.
A tiny chibi baby in a blue onesie with a head full of curls and a miniature pair of glasses.
Glitter text appeared underneath:
IT’S A BOY.
I slapped my hand over my mouth. Tears stung my eyes instantly.
Beside me, Kasen exhaled like he’d been punched in the chest. His hand found my thigh and squeezed.
The final image held:
Anime-Kasen, anime-me, anime-Serenity and tiny baby boy all together, the little one gripping both our fingers, a small bat symbol glowing faintly behind them.
Then the screen faded to black.
Silence.
I set the remote down very carefully before my hands betrayed me and shook it out of existence.
My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
I wiped quickly under one eye, blinked the blur away, and finally turned my head.
Kasen was already staring at me.
His expression was…a lot.
Shock sitting there. Awe, like he was seeing a miracle and a car accident at the same time. Fear too, but not the running kind. The “responsible man about to rearrange his entire life in his head” kind.
“You…” His voice came out low, rough. He cleared his throat. “You’re pregnant.”
“Fourteen weeks,” I said, my voice small and watery. “Found out last month at my appointment.”
His gaze dropped automatically to my stomach, covered by my loose tee. His palm lifted slowly, hesitating once before he laid it gently, carefully, over my stomach.
“And it’s a boy,” he said quietly, like he had to confirm it out loud.
I nodded, tears coming down my cheek now. “I didn’t know until just now,” I admitted, laughing weakly. “I had them send the results to Steph so I wouldn’t cheat. She gave it straight to the animator.”
He laughed too then, a short, disbelieving sound, eyes glossy.
“Of course,” he muttered. “Of course my first time having sexing would get you pregnant.”
“I mean…” I sniffed. “It be like that sometimes.”
He looked back up at me, really looked. “You…okay?” he asked. “With this? With…him?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I was shocked as hell. I laughed so hard in that doctor’s office the nurse thought I’d lost it. But once it wore off?” I swallowed. “I was…happy. Scared, but happy.”
He searched my face like he was looking for even a hint of a lie.
He didn’t find it.
“I know it’s a lot,” I rushed to add. “And if this is too much, if you feel like it’s fast or you need time, that’s fine. I’m having this baby either way. I just—didn’t want you to find out in some dry ass text or at a doctor’s appointment with pamphlets everywhere.”
“Sevyn,” he cut in, voice suddenly firm.
I shut up.
He slid closer until our knees touched, his hand still on my stomach, his other hand cupping my jaw.
“This is not too much,” he said slowly. “It’s…more than I expected this fast, yeah. But with you?” He shook his head slightly. “It feels…right.”
My chest squeezed.
“Your not mad?” I whispered.
“Why would I be mad I get to have a son with a woman I lo—” He caught himself, breath stuttering. Recentered. “—with a woman I trust,” he corrected, eyes holding mine.
I heard the slip anyway.
He exhaled.
“I’m not mad,” he repeated. “I’m…honored. Terrified, but honored.”
“Don’t do that,” I sniffed. “I just fixed my lashes.”
He huffed out a soft laugh, thumb brushing under my eye.
“We really having a boy,” he said again, like saying it made it real. “Little chocolate gremlin gone be running around here pulling wires out my servers.”
“And climbing my reformers,” I added.
“And asking a million questions,” he said.
“And beating Kori and Serenity in Mario Kart.”
He smiled, eyes brighter now. “We gotta teach him early,” he said. “No kids of mine losing in Mario Kart.”
“Relax,” I said, laughing wetly. “He yours and mine. He already competitive.”
We sat there for a second, quiet.
His hand splayed wider across my lower belly like a shield.
“Happy birthday,” I said softly. “I was gonna do a cologne or a watch but…this felt better.”
He closed his eyes for a second then opened them.
“This is…more than I knew how to ask for,” he said. “And I already knew I didn’t deserve you. So this little nigga just extra.”
“Don’t call him a nigga,” I sniffed, laughing.
He smiled and leaned in, kissing me once.
When he pulled back, he pressed one more soft kiss to my forehead, then bent lower and whispered against my stomach, voice so low I almost missed it:
“Hey little man,” he murmured. “It’s your dad. We gone figure this out,” he said. “Me and your mom and your sister. I promise.”
My throat closed for a second.
When he sat up again, eyes a little wet, he saw my face and smirked weakly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be emotional.”
“You the one who did a monologue to my uterus,” I said, laughing through snot.
“Shut up,” he said, but he was smiling.