After that appointment Oliver was restless as the days passed.

Oliver woke up before his alarm. No dreams, no reason. Just the kind of restless energy that didn’t have anywhere to land yet.

The sky outside his window was still pale gray, the city slow to wake up.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His phone was already buzzing with reminders: appointment day. Clinic instructions. Today was the day.

But instead of getting dressed right away, Oliver found himself just… sitting.

Am I really ready for this? 

The thought wasn’t loud. It came quiet, like a draft sneaking in under a door.

He’d scheduled everything. Made his choice. But now, staring at the stretch of morning ahead, Oliver’s stomach felt knotted up in a way that wasn’t hunger.

What if I regret this? What if I’m not enough for a kid? What if…

He pressed his palm flat against his chest. Steady. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The silence in the apartment felt heavier than usual.

Before he could let himself spiral further, he grabbed a hoodie, stepped into his sneakers, and headed out.

The air was cool and sharp.

No plan—just moving his feet.

It wasn’t until Oliver found himself near the small park two blocks away that he really stopped to notice where he’d ended up. A city playground. Bright red slides. Swings hanging loose in the morning breeze.

Most of it was empty. But there was one man sitting on a bench near the sandbox, coffee cup in hand, keeping an eye on a little boy about three years old digging in the sand.

Oliver hesitated—then sat on the opposite end of the same bench. Enough space between them to feel polite.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Just quiet. Birds overhead. A few kids’ voices in the distance.

It wasn’t until the boy ran up to show his father a stick he’d found that Oliver really saw the man clearly—early thirties, dark hair, a quiet steadiness about him.

When the boy went back to digging, Oliver surprised himself by asking, “Is he yours?”

The man glanced over. “Yeah. Jonah. Three next month.”

Oliver nodded once, fingers curling around his sleeves. He wasn’t sure why the next words came out, but they did:

“I’m scheduled for a carrier insemination procedure today.”

The man blinked at him—then gave a small, knowing smile. “First time?”

Oliver’s throat tightened a little. “Yeah.”

The man held out his hand. “Nate. Carrier dad too. Two years now.”

Oliver shook it before he could think too hard about it. “Oliver.”

Nate leaned back against the bench. “Let me guess—you’re doing the pre-appointment panic walk.”

That pulled a quiet laugh out of Oliver. “Something like that.”

For a while, they just sat. Then Oliver asked, voice lower, “Does it really… change everything?”

Nate glanced toward his son, watching Jonah dump sand out of a plastic bucket like it was the most important job in the world. His face softened.

“It does. In ways I didn’t expect.”

Oliver let that settle in. “Like what?”

Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “You stop feeling like life’s on pause. Every day, there’s something—new habits, new things you learn. It’s hard sometimes. I won’t lie. Especially when it’s just you.”

Oliver swallowed. That was what scared him most: the just-you part.

“But,” Nate added quietly, “it’s yours. Nobody else can take it away from you.”

Oliver found himself asking, “Do you date?”

Nate gave a short laugh. “Tried a few times.” He shook his head, eyes thoughtful. “It’s different. People say they’re fine with it, but once they realize it’s real—me having a kid, not just a lifestyle quirk—it changes things.”

“Ever worry about trusting the wrong person?” Oliver asked.

“All the time.” Nate’s voice was honest, no hesitation. “You get protective. You learn fast who really cares and who’s just pretending.”

Oliver nodded slowly. His chest felt a little lighter somehow—not because the doubts had disappeared, but because there was someone else out there who’d had them too.

“Thanks,” Oliver said after a minute.

Nate shrugged, like it wasn’t a big thing. “We all start somewhere. You’ll figure it out.”

Jonah ran up again, waving a stick like a sword, and Nate stood to catch him before he ran into the path.

Oliver watched them for a moment longer. Then he stood too. Pulled his phone out.

Clinic reminder flashing again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He turned toward the street and started walking. 

"Hopefully,we'll meet again someday!!!" I yelled as I left, I had to change before I arrived late to my appointment.

—

The clinic was quieter than last time.

When Oliver checked in, the receptionist smiled softly. “Good morning, Mr. Reyes. We’ll have someone bring you back shortly.”

A nurse met him in the hallway—different from the last one. Shorter, lighter hair, but the same calm tone.

“This way,” she said, leading him to a smaller private room.

Oliver sat while she reviewed the checklist: 

Light, nutrient-focused meals before the procedure. 

Hydration. 

Pre-prescribed vitamins. 

No alcohol or excessive caffeine for forty-eight hours prior.

"Do you have everything you'll need?" She asked.

Oliver nodded slowly. “Yeah. I packed a small bag.” A few snacks and water bottles since I'm going home the same day.

“Perfect,” she said, jotting something down. “And the procedure will take place tomorrow morning. We’ll monitor for about an hour after. Then you’ll return home and wait seven to ten days for confirmation.”

“Seven to ten?”

She smiled gently. “Standard time window. We’ll call you directly.”

Oliver ran a hand through his hair. It felt real now. Not just paperwork—real.

After a few more instructions, the nurse left him alone for a moment.

Oliver sat there, staring at the quiet room. White walls. Soft music playing low through hidden speakers.

His pulse felt steady now—not from ignoring the fear, but from moving through it.

He thought about Nate. About Jonah. About quiet mornings that might look like that someday.

He thought about not waiting for someone else to show up and make things feel complete.

And for the first time, he really let himself believe it:

This wasn’t about proving something.

It wasn’t about running away from the past. It was about taking a new chapter in life.

It was about becoming something more.

Something steady.

Something better.

For someone else—for a future he could finally imagine clearly.