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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 placed her hair into a soft Pamela Anderson–style updo, a gesture that always made her feel a touch more put together, even on the days she felt her worst. Today was one of those days—her body heavy, her spirit restless, and only two months left before her baby arrived.

Two months had passed since her wedding to Johnny. He and Robby were now working steady as ranch hands for Clay, making more money than either of them ever had back in the Valley. Sam came through every so often, and August was only a FaceTime call away, keeping her laughing when the long days dragged.

And Robby—if he wasn't home or at the ranch, he was with Hailey. They'd made it official, and he was by her side at every rodeo, proud as anything.

Stella sank deeper into the couch, flipping through a copy of Pioneer Woman. Her hand drifted to the nightstand for her phone just as it began to buzz. The screen lit up with the words: Dad.

"Hello?" she answered softly.

"Hi, honey." Nathan's voice carried that steady warmth, the kind that always made her feel safe. "Johnny said you weren't feeling too well. He's worried, and so am I. Do I need to come over?"

Stella's lips curved into a small smile. "Well, I'll never say no to a visit from you, Dad. It's just one of those days where I feel like total shit."

"How's my granddaughter?" Nathan asked, his tone shifting, tender but still carrying that protective weight.

"She's fine," Stella said with a quiet laugh. "She's been kicking like crazy. Definitely got that from her father."

"As soon as I finish this incident report, I'll be there, alright?" Nathan said

"Okay, Daddy," Stella said, her voice gentle, grateful. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Nathan replied, a smile evident in his tone.

When the call ended, Stella rose from the couch with a slow, careful grace. She put a Donny & Marie record on the turntable, and as Butterfly filled the room, she felt her daughter shift within her. Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden but tender, and she pressed her hand to her belly.

Moving to the recliner, Stella settled in, flipping open Better Homes & Gardens. She sipped her iced tea, letting the coolness steady her as the song and her daughter's soft movements carried her into a moment of peace.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

"Here's another glass of iced tea," Nathan said as he handed Stella a tall glass, the ice clinking softly. True to his word, he'd stopped by Stella and Johnny's after work, the protective urge too strong to ignore once he heard she wasn't feeling well.

"Thanks, Daddy." Stella smiled gently, accepting the glass and taking a small sip. Even in her exhaustion, there was a poise to her, a quiet elegance that reminded Nathan of her mother.

Nathan settled into the armchair across from her, his presence solid, protective. "How are things between Robby and Hailey? She seems like a sweet girl."

Stella's lips curved into a serene smile. "We've had her over for dinner a few times. She's been respectful. He's with her in Fort Worth this weekend for the rodeo. I'm glad he's found someone he truly likes."

"Me too, hon." Nathan nodded, his voice carrying that steady warmth. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his tone. "So—is my granddaughter kicking?"

Stella's hand smoothed over her bump. "She's pretty still right now. It's when I'm up moving around that she decides to kick. Isn't that strange?"

"It's not strange at all, honey," Nathan said, the corners of his rugged features softening. "All babies are different. You know, I've been thinking a lot about when you and your brother were babies."

"Oh yeah?" Stella turned toward him, her expression gentle, curious.

Nathan's eyes softened with memory. "Your brother might have been the only baby in the world who liked to sleep in. But you? You were always an early riser. Your mom used to tiptoe into the nursery as soon as she heard you stir. I'd usually be dead asleep from the night shift, but sometimes I'd wake just long enough to see her carrying you downstairs, cradled in her arms. She'd sit in the old rocking chair by the window, watching the sunrise with you."

Flashback
— Fall 1991; Austin, TX

The nursery glowed faintly with the first light of dawn. Ava entered quietly, her golden hair framing her face like a halo, her beauty both luminous and otherworldly. She leaned over the cradle, smiling as baby Stella stirred, tiny fists curling in the blanket.

"Good morning, my little angel," Ava whispered, pressing a kiss to her daughter's small hand. Baby Stella blinked up at her mother and gurgled with a soft smile.

With practiced grace, Ava changed her, then warmed a bottle of breast milk from the fridge. She carried Stella downstairs, holding her close, the child's warmth against her chest. Settling into the reclining rocker, Ava slipped her favorite mixtape into the old radio. A soft melody filled the room as the Texas sun crested the horizon.

Ava kissed the top of Stella's head, breathing her in, and let her daughter curl tiny fingers around her own. Resting her cheek against Stella's soft hair, she rocked slowly, memorizing every detail—the weight of her daughter, the sound of her breaths, the glow of the rising sun.

End of Flashback

"Babies change so fast at that age," Nathan said when the memory faded, his voice thick but steady. "Your mother and I both knew every morning like that could be the last time either of you let her rock you. So she made sure to remember every detail."

Stella's eyes glistened as she ran her fingers over her baby bump, smiling through the lump in her throat.

She leaned forward and embraced her father, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. She loved him so dearly, her anchor. And though the thought of becoming a first-time mother terrified her, she knew she wouldn't face it alone. Parents grew along with their children—and that was enough.

"Thanks, Dad," Stella whispered. "I needed this."

"Anytime, honey." Nathan kissed the top of her head, his voice low, steady, and full of conviction. "That's what I'm here for."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

That night, the house was wrapped in stillness. Stella lay on her side, one hand tracing the curve of her baby bump as she sang softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun, like a stream that meets a boulder
halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better, but because I knew you I have been changed for good."

The door eased open, and Johnny stepped inside in his tee shirt and boxers, his hair tousled, his expression instantly softening when he saw her. He climbed into bed beside her, slipping his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her belly. He didn't interrupt—just held her close, his rough edges giving way to quiet reverence as she sang.

When the last lyric faded, he brushed his lips against her shoulder. "What's that from?" he murmured, his voice low, curious. "Never heard it before."

Stella smiled faintly. "It's from a musical. Wicked."

Johnny blinked. "Wicked? What's that—like, a horror movie or something?"

A soft laugh escaped her, quiet but genuine. "No," she said, turning a little to face him. "It's a Broadway show. It's about two girls—one good, one misunderstood. It's about friendship, forgiveness... letting people change you for the better."

Johnny raised a brow. "Sounds... intense for a musical."

She smiled, brushing his cheek with her fingertips. "It is. But it's beautiful."

He looked at her for a long moment, eyes tracing her face in the dim glow. Then he kissed her, slow and sure, like she was the only thing keeping him steady. "You're gonna be an amazing mom, Stella," he whispered, his voice low, raw with sincerity.

Her eyes glistened as she kissed him back, her fingers brushing along his jaw. "And you're already an amazing father to Robby," she murmured. "And you'll be just as amazing with her."

They kissed again, slow and tender, before Johnny pulled back slightly, studying her face in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. "So," he asked softly, "how'd the visit with your dad go?"

Stella's expression shifted, touched by memory. "It was good," she said, her voice gentle. "Dad told me about when I was a baby... how Mom used to rock me at sunrise. He said most mornings, after working nights, he'd barely wake, but he'd see her carry me downstairs. She'd hold me in her arms, sit by the window, and watch the sun come up."

Her eyes drifted, as though she could see it—Ava in the rocker, the light of dawn spilling across her golden hair, beauty so haunting it never faded from memory. "He said she'd play her old mixtape, kiss the top of my head, and just... memorize every detail. Like she knew those mornings wouldn't last forever."

Johnny listened quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. Stella's voice trembled with tenderness.

"Hearing that, it made me feel like she's still here somehow—like she's watching over me... over us." She rested her palm against her bump. "Over her."

Johnny's chest rose and fell with a steadying breath. He pressed his lips to Stella's forehead, lingering there. "She'd be so damn proud of you," he whispered. "And of this little girl. And I swear—our daughter's gonna know who her grandmother was."

Stella closed her eyes, tears slipping free as she sank into his embrace. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Princess," Johnny murmured, holding her close, keeping her safe in the dark.

The steady rhythm of her breathing lulled him, her warmth anchoring him in a way nothing else ever had. Within minutes, Johnny drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.

Stella closed her eyes, tears slipping free as she sank into his embrace. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Princess," Johnny murmured, holding her close, keeping her safe in the dark.

The steady rhythm of her breathing lulled him, her warmth anchoring him in a way nothing else ever had. Within minutes, Johnny drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.

The dream came suddenly.

Johnny was standing in the hallway of the house—only it didn't look right. The edges blurred, the light soft, unreal. And then he smelled it—jasmine and powder, faint and familiar. His chest tightened, his breath catching like a boy again.

"Mom?" His voice cracked, rough, hopeful.

And there she was. Laura. Not the broken version he remembered, but radiant—gentle, hauntingly beautiful in a way that stole his breath. She wore a softness in her eyes, muted with something tender.

Johnny's throat burned. He stepped forward and grabbed her like he'd been waiting his whole life. His arms wrapped tight, his eyes squeezed shut as the tears came hot and unrelenting. "God, Mom..." he choked out. "I thought I'd never—"

"I'm sorry, Johnny." Her voice was velvet, breaking as she cupped the back of his head like she used to when he was small. "I thought marrying Sid would be a way out. I thought it would give you a better life. I was wrong."

Johnny pulled back, shaking his head fiercely, tears glinting in his eyes. "No. No, don't you dare apologize. None of that was your fault. You did what you thought you had to do. You don't owe me an apology."

Laura's gaze moved past him to where Stella lay curled in the bed, her hair spilled across the pillow, her beauty almost otherworldly in the dreamlight. Laura's lips parted, awe softening her face. "She's breathtaking," she whispered. "So regal, so strong. Johnny...she's everything."

Johnny looked back at Stella, his chest swelling with something he couldn't put into words. "Yeah. She is." His voice cracked. "Don't know how the hell I got this lucky."

Laura turned back to him, her hand brushing his cheek the way only a mother could. "I'm proud of you, Johnny. For getting yourself and Robby out of the Valley. For building a life here, in Texas. For becoming the man I always knew you could be."

His eyes stung. He swallowed hard, nodding, like the boy inside him needed to hear it more than the man did.

Then her voice softened, almost reverent. "Do you know why you and Stella feel so bound to one another? Long before either of you were born, your souls already knew each other. Before Ava ever breathed Stella's name, before I ever breathed yours—you and Stella were bound. That bond is older than this life. That's why you feel it so deeply."

Johnny's breath hitched, the weight of her words sinking into him. He turned back to his mother, tears streaking his face. "I don't deserve her. Sometimes I feel like... like she's too good for me."

Laura cupped his face with both hands, steady and sure. "Don't you ever say that. The two of you are equals. You balance each other. She gives you grace, and you give her strength. That's what love is, Johnny."

He reached for her again, desperate to hold on, but when he blinked, the hallway was gone.

Johnny woke in his and Stella's bed, Stella still curled against him, her breathing steady, her face serene. The scent of jasmine lingered faintly in the air, and Johnny knew it hadn't just been a dream.

He buried his face in Stella's hair, pulling her tighter against him, whispering into the night with a voice rough and raw. "I got it now, Mom. I won't screw it up this time."

And for the first time in a long time, Johnny Lawrence fell back asleep with tears on his cheeks, but peace in his heart.