I hope you enjoy this all, along with my other stories. I will update those too.

Just for reference, this follows the storyline after the reveal of the Tina and Peter affair. Carla didn't loose the baby, although she did collapse as per the show, but fortunately wasn't miscarrying.

It was a cold morning on November the 5th, 2014. Peter yawned as he made his way downstairs, having heard the sound of post being thrusted through his letter boxed.

He leant down and picked up the letters, flicking through it, ready to throw it all in the bin, as it was, normally, just junk.

But today he was in in luck, and he paused, his body tensing as his eyes hovered over the envelope in his card, his name scrawled over it in loose writing that he recognised all too well.

He headed back upstairs, sitting down on his couch, his fingers running over the face of the envelope. Without further ado he used this thumb to tear the envelope open, three little polaroid photos tumbling out and onto the floor. Picking them up, Peter's heart fluttered, thumping his chest as he took in the condense.

The first photo was of Carla, lying in a hospital bed, looking up at the camera, the faintest of smiles on her face. Her eyes were wide and her hair fell down her shoulders in messy waves. He cheeks were lightly flushed, and she looked tired, but there was the most blissful, obvious glow about her.

But it was the precious bundle, nestled against Carla's chest that caught Peter's eye. He gazed, transfixed at the photo, trying to make out every little detail he could. A little ear, a tight fist, a few strands of dark hair.

The second photo was again, of Carla and her newborn, minutes after birth, but this time, Carla was holding her baby to her chest, allowing the camera to see the child more clearly. One hand cupped her baby's head, the other gently gripping her child's bare back. The infant's face was glistening, lips pouted, arm outstretched and palm open.

The final photo was just of baby, taken from a birds eye view. Wrapped tightly in a muslin cloth, only their face visible. Eyes squinting, framed with dark eyelashes. Lips again, pouted, just like Carla's.

He glanced back over at the envelope, realising there was a note inside. It was only short, neat scribbled taking up the middle portion of the page.

'Dear Peter,

Our beautiful daughter, Saskia Rose was born in the early hours of November the 3rd, weighing a little under 6 pounds. She is perfectly healthy, if not a little small. She's stubborn and demanding, just like her dad. I will bring her to see you very very soon.

Carla x'

A girl, He had a little girl. A daughter. He leant back into the sofa, trying to take it all in.

It had been three months since she'd left, she had been due a few weeks from now, so he hadn't expected the news of their child's birth so suddenly. His head hurt, he was delighted, over the moon, already so in love with a person he didn't even know. And yet so conflicted, so hurt, so sad that he'd missed out on being their for Carla throughout her pregnancy, missed out on being the doting husband, missed out on watching their baby be born.

He'd royally screwed up, no stranger to affairs, but a stranger to loosing someone so precious to him. He adored Carla, he longed to see her smile, feel her hand slip into his once more. He hated himself for the decision he'd made. For stringing Tina along, for lying to Carla, putting her through stress and more pain than she ever deserved.

He'd never forget the day she knocked on his door, looked him clear in the eyes and said the most honest goodbye he'd ever heard. He hadn't seen her since.

And now they had a child, a child he needed to be there for.