The balcony door opened with a soft push.

Kylie stepped out first, the night air brushing against her skin, cool and sharp after the warmth of the dining room.

Ryan followed, closing the door behind him. He didn’t speak immediately. He simply stood beside her, shoulders squared, gaze resting on the skyline.

For a long moment, they just existed there—two people caught between relief, fear, and a fragile, growing hope.

“You handled yourself well,” Kylie said finally, her voice soft, almost uncertain.

He didn’t look at her immediately. “I had to,” he said quietly. “For you. For our child.”

Her hand drifted toward his, hesitant. When their fingers met, it...