Updated Oct 23, 2025 • ~9 min read
LINA’S POV
Week three in the NICU, and I was losing my mind.
Not from the stress of having a premature baby—though that was constant. But from the routine. Thesameness. Wake up, pump breast milk, drive to the hospital, sit by Celeste’s incubator, drive home, repeat.
Seb had gone back to work after two weeks. Someone had to keep the insurance that was paying for Celeste’s care. But that meant I was alone most days, sitting in a plastic chair, watching our daughter breathe.
“You need to go home,” the nurse said gently. “Get real sleep. Shower. Eat something other than vending machine food.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“She’s stable. She’s doing great. And you’re going to make yourself sick.”
But I couldn’t leave. What if something happened when I wasn’t there? What if she needed me?
My phone buzzed. A text from Stella.
Coming by tonight. Don’t argue. You need human interaction that isn’t medical staff.
I smiled despite myself. Stella had been amazing through all this, bringing me food, sitting with me, letting me cry on her shoulder when the fear became too much.
Another text. This one from an unknown number.
We need to talk. Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow. 2 PM. It’s important. -J
Jasper. What could he possibly need that couldn’t be said over text?
SEB’S POV
I was in a meeting when my phone rang. Lina. I excused myself immediately.
“What’s wrong? Is it Celeste?”
“She’s fine. But Seb, Jasper wants to meet. Tomorrow. He says it’s important.”
My stomach dropped. “Did he say what about?”
“No. Just that we need to talk.” Her voice was scared. “What if he changed his mind? What if he wants full custody again?”
“He wouldn’t. We have an agreement.”
“We had an agreement before too. And he broke it.”
She had a point.
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
“He said just me.”
“I don’t care. If he wants to talk about our daughter, I’m going to be there.” I grabbed my jacket. “I’m leaving work now. We’ll deal with this together.”
“Seb, you can’t keep missing work—”
“Yes, I can. You and Celeste are more important than any meeting.” I was already heading for the elevator. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
LINA’S POV
The next afternoon, Jasper was already at the coffee shop when we arrived.
He looked different. Tired. Older. He stood when he saw us.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Both of you.”
“You said you wanted to talk,” Seb said, his voice clipped. “So talk.”
Jasper gestured to the table. We sat, tension thick enough to cut.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jasper started. “About Celeste. About the custody arrangement. About everything.”
Here it comes, I thought. He’s going back on his word.
“And I think we need to make some changes,” he continued.
Seb’s hand found mine under the table. Squeezed hard.
“What kind of changes?” I asked carefully.
“I want to give up my parental rights.”
Silence.
“What?” I finally managed.
“I want Seb to adopt Celeste. Legally. Fully. I’ll relinquish my rights so you can be a real family. No complications.”
I stared at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’ve been watching you two. At the hospital. The way you are with her. With each other.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Seb, you’re her father. Not me. I contributed DNA, but you’re the one who’s there every day. Every hour. You’re the one she’s going to know as Dad.”
“But you wanted to be involved,” Seb said.
“I did. I do. But I also want what’s best for Celeste. And what’s best is having two parents who are actually together. Who love each other. Who can make decisions without a custody agreement hanging over them.”
“Jasper—”
“I’m not disappearing,” he said quickly. “I’d still like to be Uncle Jasper or whatever works. Maybe see her a few times a year. Send birthday presents. But the legal stuff? The custody battles? I’m done. You’ve earned the right to be her father, Sebastian. Let me make it official.”
Tears streamed down my face. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He looked at me. “Lina, when you told me you were pregnant, I panicked and made terrible decisions. But sitting in that NICU, watching that tiny baby fight for her life, all I could think was… she deserves better than my mess. She deserves you two.”
Seb was crying too. “Thank you. For trusting us with her.”
“Take care of my daughter,” Jasper said. “That’s all I ask.”
“Always,” Seb promised.
After Jasper left, Seb and I sat in stunned silence.
“Did that just happen?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“He’s giving up his rights. You can adopt her.”
“I can be her legal father.” Seb’s voice was full of wonder. “Officially. Legally. Not just in our hearts.”
“Our family,” I whispered. “No asterisks. No complications.”
“Just us.”
SEB’S POV
That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jasper’s offer.
Adoption. Legal fatherhood. Celeste would be mine in every way.
But something nagged at me.
“Do you think we should do it?” I asked Lina as we got ready for bed.
“Do what?”
“The adoption. Jasper giving up his rights.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “What if Celeste grows up and wants to know her biological father? What if we’re taking that choice away from her?”
“Jasper said he’d still be around. Just not legally.”
“But it’s different. If he’s legally her father, she has rights. Medical history. Inheritance. Things she might need.”
Lina sat next to me. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“I’m having all the thoughts.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I want to be her father. Legally. But I also want what’s best for her. And I’m not sure those are the same thing.”
“What does your gut say?”
I thought about it. About holding Celeste through the incubator ports. About reading to her every night. About the way her heart rate stabilized when I talked.
“My gut says she’s already mine. The paperwork is just making it official.”
“Then that’s your answer.”
“But what if—”
“Seb.” She took my face in her hands. “You’re going to be a father who worries. Who questions every decision. Who wants to do everything perfectly. But you’re also going to be a father who shows up. Who loves unconditionally. Who fights for his daughter. That’s what matters.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s who you already are.”
LINA’S POV
Week four in the NICU, and Celeste was thriving.
Four pounds now. Breathing without assistance. Tolerating full feeds. The nurses said maybe another two weeks and she could come home.
Home. With us. A real family.
“She’s getting so big,” Isabella said over video call. She’d gone back to Italy but called daily for updates. “Look at those cheeks!”
“They’re still tiny cheeks,” I said, but I smiled. Celeste did have cheeks now. And a little bit of baby fat. She looked less fragile. More like a real baby.
“When she comes home, I’m flying back,” Isabella announced. “To help. To spoil my granddaughter. To teach you both how to actually take care of a baby.”
“We know how to take care of a baby, Mama,” Seb protested.
“Do you? Have you practiced diaper changes on anything other than that ridiculous doll?”
“The doll is educational.”
“The doll doesn’t scream or wiggle. Real babies do both. I’m coming.”
After the call, Seb looked at me in panic. “Do we know how to take care of a baby?”
“We’ll figure it out. Like everything else.”
“That’s your answer to everything.”
“It’s worked so far.”
My phone rang. Natalia.
“I have the paperwork,” she said. “For the adoption. Jasper’s lawyer sent everything over. Once you sign and file, Sebastian will be Celeste’s legal father.”
“How long does it take?”
“Could be weeks. Could be months. The courts are backed up. But Jasper’s voluntary relinquishment speeds things up significantly.”
After I hung up, I told Seb.
“Months,” he said. “We could be waiting months for this to be official.”
“But it will be official. That’s what matters.”
He pulled me into his arms. “I can’t believe this is real. That I get to be her father. That we get to be a family.”
“Believe it. Because it’s happening.”
“What if I mess up? What if I’m a terrible father?”
“Then you’ll figure it out and do better. That’s what parenting is.”
“You’re very wise for someone who’s never done this before.”
“I’m faking it until I make it.”
“That seems to be our specialty.”
SEB’S POV
Week five, and Celeste opened her eyes.
Really opened them, not just the barely-there flutter she’d been doing. She looked at me—actually looked at me—with dark eyes that would probably turn brown like mine.
“Hi baby girl,” I whispered. “I’m your dad.”
She blinked. Made a tiny sound.
“That’s right. Your dad. Not biologically, but in every way that counts. I’m the one who’s going to teach you to ride a bike. Who’s going to scare away your first boyfriend. Who’s going to cry at your graduation because I’m proud and emotional and hopelessly in love with you.”
Lina appeared next to me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Giving her the full speech?” she asked.
“She needs to know what she’s in for.”
“A lifetime of your terrible jokes and overprotectiveness?”
“Exactly.” I touched Celeste’s tiny hand through the port. “She’s so small. How is she ever going to be big enough to come home?”
“The doctors say two more weeks.”
“Two weeks.” It felt like forever and not nearly long enough. “Are we ready?”
“No. Absolutely not. We’re going to be disasters.”
“Good. At least we’re disasters together.”
That night, we signed the adoption papers. Lina’s signature next to mine, officially starting the process of making me Celeste’s legal father.
“To new beginnings,” Lina said.
“To family,” I corrected. “However we build it.”
“However we build it,” she agreed.
And as we drove home from the hospital, leaving our daughter in the capable hands of the NICU nurses, I thought about how far we’d come.
From strangers in a coffee shop to this—parents, partners, a family.
It was messy and complicated and nothing like I’d planned.
It was perfect.
And in two weeks, we’d bring our daughter home.
Our daughter. Mine and Lina’s.
Finally, officially, ours.
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