The gang

Kian/ Mallory

Kian

I didn't think I could love anything as much as I loved Mallory.

And then I met my little Orla.

This tiny, pink, perfect thing lying against her mam's chest—ours. Mine. I couldn't believe it. Still can't. I must've kissed Mal a hundred times since they handed Orla to her, but it didn't feel like enough. Not when she just did that. Brought our daughter into the world like a feckin' warrior.

I leaned in closer, stroking a finger gently along Orla's cheek. She wrinkled her nose a bit, then yawned, and honest to God I thought I might cry again.

"She's unreal," I murmured, just for Mallory to hear. "Like, I know all newborns are meant to look like squashed potatoes or whatever, but she's gorgeous."

Mallory laughed softly, eyes still locked on Orla. "She's ours. Course she's gorgeous."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'd die for her already, Mal."

"I know." She reached up, brushing her thumb across my jaw. "Me too."

There was a knock on the door, and Mam—Aoife—poked her head in, eyes already glistening as soon as she spotted us. She stepped inside carefully, like she didn't want to break the moment, and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Oh," she whispered, coming to Mallory's side. "Oh, she's beautiful, love."

"She's Orla," Mallory said, smiling up at her. "Orla Aoife Rose."

Aoife gasped, pressing a hand to her heart. "You... you gave her my name?"

"Well," I said, wrapping an arm around Mallory's shoulders. "You did save both our arses more than once this year. Felt fair."

Aoife blinked fast and leaned down to kiss Mal's forehead, then mine. "She's lucky to have you both."

I looked back down at Orla, now fast asleep against Mal's chest, and I knew—no matter what happened next, what fights came, what sleepless nights were ahead—we'd be alright.

Because we had her.

And each other.

And right now... that was everything.

Mallory

I laughed, shifting slightly to make room as the chaos that was our friend group tumbled into the hospital room like they owned the place. The air instantly felt brighter, louder, more us.

Serena practically launched the teddy onto the bed beside me before leaning over to inspect Orla like she was a rare gemstone. "Where's my little niece? She better have my name, Mal. Little Serena Holland. Tell me it's not too late to change the birth cert."

"Too late. And she's a Lynch, Orla Aoife Rose," I grinned, careful not to jostle Orla. "But maybe the next one, yeah?"

Serena pretended to pout before her eyes softened, gaze fixed on Orla's tiny face. "She's class," she said quietly. "Like... actually. Well done, you two."

Dean wandered in behind her with a balloon that said 'Welcome Baby!' in massive pink letters, like it was the only one the shop had left. He handed it to Kian like it was an Olympic medal. "I didn't know what to get, so... balloon. Felt on brand."

Kian snorted. "Yeah, for a birthday party maybe."

"Close enough," Dean shrugged. "It's her birthday, isn't it?"

"Good point," I muttered, biting back another laugh.

Conor arrived last, a bit breathless like he'd sprinted the last stretch of the hospital, holding a slightly squished bunch of supermarket flowers. "I meant to get roses, but I panicked and ended up with these." He held them out like they were sacred. "Still nice though."

"They're perfect, Conor. Thank you," I said, genuinely touched.

He inched forward, peering at Orla with wide eyes. "She's tiny. Like... smaller than Roxy when she was a pup."

"She is not," Serena cut in.

"She is a bit," Kian added, grinning.

"She's the best thing I've ever done," I said, half to myself.

Everyone quieted for a beat. Even Dean, who looked like he was about to say something cheeky, paused and just smiled.

"She's got a whole army already," Kian said, slipping his arm around me. "Not bad for someone just born."

"Yeah," Serena agreed, looking at Orla like she was already planning matching outfits and tea parties. "She's gonna be so loved."

And in that room—full of mismatched, chaotic, loud-hearted people—I believed it.