TRIS POV

An abrupt cry snaps the peace of the early morning into shards. It was a recurrent sound that tore me from sleep many times the last couple of nights, too many times. It takes all my willpower to drag myself out of bed and walk to the crib against the wall, the one that used to say "Fear God alone."

I glance back at the bed, realizing that despite the time, Tobias is gone. My brain catches up after a moment, and I remember watching his shadow walk away before I mumbled something incoherent and heard him shut the front door.

He has been leaving at the crack of dawn and returning late. Avoiding me. That can only mean that he is at war with himself.

The baby's cries begin to slow once I am in her line of sight. Her bottom lip juts out, and I try to smile despite the exhaustion that drags my face down.

"Hi, baby," I say. She hiccups as I lift her out of the crib. As I carry her over to the changing table, I remark, "You look as tired as I feel."

The middle-of-the-night screaming has not been going too well. The doctor gave me a routine list with feeding and napping times to stick to, and while I have been following the daytime instructions, she seems to divert from the nighttime ones. But everything is so new for her, so strange, and I figure that she just needs time to adjust. Even though it is draining me of all my youth.

It is very difficult to hold that against her when she is staring at me so innocently. With a pacifier in her mouth and a compliant attitude, she makes it impossible to believe that this is the same baby.

"I don't know why you keep waking up so often during the night. You're only hungry half the time. Maybe make it easier on both of us?" I suggest, scrunching up my nose when I remove her diaper.

She coos in response. I work fast, going through the diaper-changing motions as quickly as my unexperienced hands can manage. There is bound to be a fit if I don't get her fed soon.

"I'm going to take you out today," I tell her. She squirms, uncomfortable and hungry, as I reach for a bottle of formula I mixed during the night. "The Dauntless got most of their anger out of their systems when they shot Tobias, I think. I'm not worried anymore."

For the last several days, the Dauntless were untrustworthy. I didn't dare to step outside the apartment with the baby after I saw how they could lash out at their honored leader for a simple announcement. Then Tobias and the other leaders worked to settle them with promises of a faction-first policy. The factionless will be eased into a faction status, but until then, the current factions' needs are going to be met.

From what Christina has told me, the compound is lulled for now. It is time to fall back into somewhat of a routine—however I can with a baby who needs my attention—and I am long overdue for visiting Uriah.

The baby's eyes droop as she suckles. I grin when she opens them wide at the sound of my voice again.

"See! You can barely stay awake after crying all last night."

Her expression is somehow accusatory.

"Don't give me that look," I scold playfully. "It's your own fault that we're both tired."

It is a manageable issue—she falls asleep quickly after whining herself awake—but it ruins Tobias's chance of getting decent sleep after his dreadful days. If it bothers him, and I know it must, then he hasn't mentioned it.

In all honesty, he hasn't mentioned the baby at all. He doesn't seem to notice her even when she is in his field of vision. If he does, then he is quick to disregard her, as if he can pretend she doesn't exist.

It can't bother me, given what he is currently battling. Except it does, just a little.

As I hold the baby for a bit longer after she finishes the bottle, she clings to one of the stuffed animals I hand to her: a puppy, with its brown ears flopping and its mouth curled into a smile. I frown at it, still displeased with dogs since the aptitude test.

Maybe her life will be different. Maybe she will grow up in a world where there are no aptitude tests, if Tobias succeeds.

Caleb joins the breakfast table when we are already finished. Christina barely acknowledges him as she is too busy fawning over the baby, who stares up at her curiously from the safety of her carrier.

"Whose child is that?" he asks warily, taking a seat across from us. I chose not to mention it when we talked last.

"Mine," I answer. "For now."

He stares at me, utterly baffled, before he sighs, "What are you doing with a baby, Beatrice?"

I narrow my eyes at him. Are we back to disapproving Caleb already? "I'm making sure she doesn't end up back on the factionless streets and starving to death," I retort.

Other than that, I don't know what I am doing with her. I may have a mental checklist on what to do, but I am waiting for these instincts to come naturally, and they haven't quite developed. Maybe I would be good at this if she was my child.

Or maybe if I wasn't anxiously preoccupied with the decimated world around me, I could devote every shred of my attention to her.

Christina seems to already be one step ahead of me, probably from her own babysitting experience. "You're such a sweetie!" she coos at the carrier. "Yes you are!"

Caleb is unsure and awkward as usual. Disregarding the topic completely, he asks, "What is Dauntless doing about the factionless?"

I rub the weariness from my eyes. "Last I heard, they are going to process them into buildings near the factionless sector. They already moved the traitor factionless we were holding here back with their people. As far as I know, they are unaware that they are going to be instated as a faction."

"Are they going to be kept in buildings away from Abnegation?" Caleb asks hopefully.

"I don't know," I say. "But they will be under tight control. Why? Eager to get back home?"

He nods. "Technically, I have lived here almost as long as you have."

When I think about it, he is right. I only lead him by a few months of initiation and lucky breaks where I made it home. Still, I want him to stay, even though I hate to admit it. We haven't been at each other's throats lately anyways, with danger lurking so closely.

The baby fusses suddenly, on the verge of tears. I peer over the hood of the carrier and place the discarded pacifier back in her mouth so that she stops.

"I was going to visit Uriah," I tell Christina. "Do you want to come?"

She agrees hesitantly. "Sure? From what you told me, he sounds a bit...unapproachable right now."

I raise an eyebrow. "Since when has that ever stopped you from giving your opinion?" I ask.

After she shoves me lightheartedly, we rise from the table and bid Caleb goodbye. Christina and I leave the dining hall, crossing the Pit and heading directly for the infirmary.

"So how has Four been since..." She trails off.

Sighing, I adjust my arm under the weight of the baby carrier. "Well, he seems to be moving better the last few days," I say. "The gunshot certainly hasn't stopped him from working."

"Or hitting anyone," she quips.

Caught off guard, I stop and turn to her. "What?"

Christina seems perplexed by my own confusion. "Did you not hear about what happened in the Pit the other night?" she asks.

I set my jaw stubbornly. I hate it when he keeps secrets from me, though he hasn't been around me often enough to tell me anything. Which is worse? "No," I say. "I didn't."

"From what I heard, a couple of guys were making fun of him and then one of them threatened you. So he beat them up, and the Dauntless were all cheering for him. I guess it was a big thing," she explains. "Funny that they were applauding him after they just shot him."

I'm not going to pretend that I know what is going on with Tobias the last several days; I know that he must be coping with his mother's choice, and I definitely know that he is under tremendous pressure. But I didn't expect to hear from someone else that he is getting into fights.

I thought I was helping him by giving him space. Instead, I look like an idiot.

With an apologetic look, she adds, "I'm sorry if you didn't want to hear it from me. I don't want to get in the middle—"

"You're fine. Thank you for telling me," I say, starting toward the infirmary again. She certainly isn't the person I am disappointed with.

Changing the subject, I try to forget about what she told me, for Uriah's sake. This can't take precedence over him, since being annoyed with my husband certainly doesn't contend with Uriah missing a leg and needing support.

Uriah is propped up when we step inside the room, looking and moving a lot less sickly. At the sight of Christina and I, he glowers.

"Get out," he immediately says, though I can see his resolve slipping. His eyes display his loneliness, and he isn't the type of person to handle an absence of friends for long.

"No," Christina snaps back. "Get over yourself, Uriah. If you want to kick us out, come do it yourself."

He frowns at her impossible challenge. A bit harsh, but can any of us expect different from her?

"Ignore her," I tell him, setting the carrier down. "I brought another visitor."

I set the baby on the edge of his bed and hold her as she leans back against me. Immediately, he perks up with interest.

"Uh..." He watches her blink at him. "Where did you get a baby?"

"Found her next to a dumpster the night of the battle," I say.

Uriah's expression darkens for a moment before his lips slowly but surely raise into a smile. The baby hums in response when he waves at her and reaches out to play with her hand.

"Really?" Christina scoffs. "That's all it took?"

I shush her as Uriah covers his face with his hands, popping out and abruptly saying, "Boo!" The baby coos happily as she watches his antics. At the next surprise, her whole body lurches back into mine before she giggles and loses the pacifier. It gets us all to laugh off the darkness that war has encased our hearts in.

And in no time, Uriah is back, warm and joking as he makes a new friend.

TOBIAS POV

We won the war, but it certainly doesn't feel like it.

The numbers are dumped in my lap, and all of Dauntless might as well be staring at me—at all three leaders—expectantly for an answer. Dauntless casualties. Food storages. Captive factionless. Injured and dead factionless. Prisoners to be transported to Candor for their trials.

These are only some of the counts I have to sort out. I have to figure out how to appease every faction member, every citizen in some way, while ensuring our own survival. The pressure is astronomical to the point where on some days, I consider that it might have been easier to lose the war and let Evelyn run the city into the ground.

Zeke and Mike are doing their best, but it has been obvious since the very day after the final battle that I am taking charge here. Although they are both important to overseeing the Dauntless, they both admitted to not being certain on what to do about the entire city. So naturally, the responsibility to shape the next hundred years or so of civilization has fallen upon me.

It is too early on to reach out to other faction leaders for advice and debate without the factionless totally under control. That is one reason why we have to fix that issue—and soon. Theoretically, they could try to overpower us the longer we wait.

"Let's go to the factionless sector today as originally planned," I say to the meeting room. "We can move the people in authority and the others who were named for war crimes over to Candor. Then we can focus on processing the rest into temporary housing."

"What about Evelyn?" Mike asks.

I clench my jaw as all eyes in the room silently question me, as if I will be lenient. The more time passes, the more the reminder of her stings, like a cut underneath my skin that refuses to heal.

"Let her rot here for all I care. We can bring in a doctor to run tests, maybe a psychologist. Then we will get their opinion, and she can be tried in Candor under our direct supervision," I decide.

Zeke nods in agreement. "She is our prisoner, nobody else's," he says firmly.

A few advisors mutter and slap their hand on the table, asserting their claim with their drumming. Evelyn ruined many lives, and many prosperous factions have been stripped because of her. But Dauntless lost the most at her hands, and they deserve the right to bring her to justice.

Except, they won't get to. She is a blank slate, and the truth serum on top of the tests will prove it.

"In the meantime," Mike adds, crossing his arms, "we need to do everything possible to make Dauntless look the other way. We don't need another incident."

There are a few scattered laughs, and I shake my head, trying to find it funny too. But the pain that rips through my stomach every time I stand reminds me of the forceful impact from the bullet that had me frozen stiff on the platform in the dining hall. And it really isn't amusing.

"You're right. Zeke, spread the word that there is going to be a celebration," I order him. "Plan it yourself if you want."

Because what the Dauntless really need is a chance to drink themselves out of depression. They are nauseated by the concept of another formal funeral; they are frustrated with the outcome of yet another draining war. It is better for everyone's safety if they don't remember their wrath.

Zeke winks at me. "You got it, boss." It is like the idea of a party let him forget about his little brother for a moment. That is how I know it will work.

I can tell by the lack of energy around the conference table that this meeting is drawing to a close. Something is missing, as if I am not being challenged enough. When I glance at a certain empty chair, I realize that I am waiting for Tris's opinion.

With gritted teeth, I lower my gaze. Ever since she brought home that baby, she hasn't attended any meetings. She hasn't been very present in my life outside of Dauntless leadership either, though I suppose that is my own fault.

I have never had a talent for expressing myself. So I don't know how to voice my messy emotions when it comes to Evelyn; I don't know how to tell her that I miss her during these days of piecing shattered glass together; I don't know how to explain that I am not prepared and somewhat afraid of raising a child—one that isn't even my own.

Instead, I hide behind the same fortified walls that protected me when I transferred to Dauntless: secrets and an emotionless exterior.

"Let's wrap it up for today," I sigh. "Mike, it's your turn to stay. Zeke and I will go to the factionless sector and oversee the transfer process."

The advisors all break off into their own conversations, some walking out and some lingering. Zeke approaches me, and for once I don't want his company.

"Dude, you getting any sleep?" he asks.

Between disastrous days that keep me up, frequent nightmares, and a screaming infant? Not at all. I shake my head. "Barely," I answer.

"I don't think many of us are either, so you're not alone." He grins tiredly. "Have you gone to see Uriah yet?"

No. I'm a terrible, self-absorbed friend, and I have been too preoccupied.

"Not yet." I swallow, recalling the way he shook after his leg was messily torn off by the explosion. His blood under my knees in the snow. "Is he doing any better?"

"Well, he didn't tell me to leave last time. So, I guess?"

I pick at a scab on my knuckles absentmindedly. Maybe I haven't visited Uriah because I am afraid that I lost him. And that is just another piece lost of myself.

Zeke taps his fingers on the table. "Shauna mentioned something about you and Tris taking in a baby," he says. "I have to admit I didn't see that coming."

Great. Now it seems that everyone is aware of the dreaded topic. I can't even escape it when I'm working.

"Well, it certainly wasn't my idea," I snap.

He gives me a concerned look that I don't want to address right now. So I take a deep breath and tell him, "We should get going soon. They're expecting us out at the factionless sector."

"Sure. Yeah," he replies. But his expression remains, and it doesn't disappear all the way to the train.

The factionless upheaval would be ten times as deadly as the Dauntless one if they were armed.

It seems that their resentment has multiplied as soon as Zeke and I arrive on site. There are thousands of them, still outnumbering the Dauntless to this day. We have formed a barrier on all sides to keep them contained in the sector, but I am worried that they will burst through when I see the thin line of Dauntless corralling them.

"The leaders are here!" someone screeches in the crowd.

Immediately, insults are fired off at Zeke and I, at Dauntless in general. The amount of rifles do nothing to deter them as they leap over each other to get closer.

"We're coming for you first, Four!" a ragged woman in the front row threatens. My grip on my rifle tightens.

A Dauntless soldier in front of her aims his own rifle when she advances. "Get back," he warns.

One of the guards approaches Zeke and I from outside the ring. I turn to him and ask, "Where are the prisoners?"

He tells us to follow him, and we do. Leading us over to a secure building out of reach of the rest of the factionless, he stops in front and knocks on the door. Another guard lets us all in.

"Start loading them onto the train," Zeke commands. "We need to do this fast in case this gets out of hand."

And when we step back outside after a quick valuation of the prisoners, it is clear that it might.

"You promised us!" a factionless man yells out, locking eyes with me. He is a factionless traitor, I presume. "You promised that if we cooperated, you would treat us better!"

In due time, I did. How the hell am I supposed to satisfy their wants and needs when I have five other factions—not to mention the loyal factionless—to take care of? How can I trust them not to plot against the Dauntless when I do deal them the same treatment as the rest of the factions?

That has always been the problem with the factionless: they expect to be given what they want. If they had all strived for a better position, then they would have been like Evelyn, surrounded by protection and food and valuables despite not living in a faction.

And now, after massacring a city, they will get their spot in society. A spot they don't deserve. They will never learn the lesson of rightful rewards.

"Fuck the Dauntless!"

"Release Evelyn!"

"We'll kill you all!"

The shouts are all too familiar. My throat closes up, and despite my immediate desire to escape this escalating situation, I stand my ground. Hopefully, I can divert the attention away from the prisoners being taken to the train so they don't interfere.

As soon as "Kill all Dauntless!" is being chanted, I am certain that something violent is going to happen. Of course, with me as the face of Dauntless, I am usually the target of that brute force.

Today is no different.

I see the projectile out of the corner of my eye, though it is too late to duck. My temple is struck with something jagged and solid, just as a gunshot is fired. My head feels as if it was cracked open.

The brick lands at my feet. Even though there is a prickling ache in my brain, I raise my gun, aiming it toward the screaming crowd.

"You almost killed him!" a factionless cries accusingly at a Dauntless soldier. I peer past him to see a man with a wound in his leg being dragged away from the front lines. He must have thrown the rock and received a bullet.

"Stay back!" the Dauntless shout.

If the factionless hear the warning, they don't care. They attempt to plow through the soldiers, though the effort is pitiful. The reason we won the war in the first place is because of our elite training, and the factionless are still no match for us.

Each attempt at harming the Dauntless is met with an unforgiving response. There are broken noses and brutal hits all around that make me wince. Although maybe that is just the laceration in my head causing that reaction.

"Are you all right?" Zeke calls out.

I nod, the gash throbbing in tune with my pulse. I look toward the factionless, who pretend to be victims as the Dauntless strike down any attackers that throw themselves forward.

"We should get you out of here," he states, leading me away.

"At least now we know what we are dealing with," I hiss, tapping my fingers to my head. They come away glistening red.

Zeke shakes his head. "Man, you really have the worst luck."

I dart my eyes back at the crowd as we retreat, only to find Cassie among them. With her fists in the air and her mouth open in a yell, like we weren't discussing terms a week ago. Like she has forgotten that she wanted to move forward because the mob has convinced her otherwise.

Just goes to show how unstable peace is, even among those pursuing it.

TRIS POV

I don't expect Tobias to return home while I am awake. Most nights, I am half coherent when he collapses next to me and breathes out a miserable sigh into the pillows.

This night is different though. He deliberately kept the fight hidden from me, and I don't intend to let him slip by this conversation on the way out the door tomorrow morning. As I put the baby down, I mull over how I want to say what I need to say while being understanding.

Just as I think I have a prepared speech, he steps into the apartment with an open wound on his head.

"Tobias—" I freeze in my tracks when I notice it, then propel myself forward. "Oh my God, what happened?" I demand.

He shakes his head. Winces. "Nothing," he tells me, avoiding my eyes. "Some factionless threw a brick."

My mouth opens in search of an accusation. You idiot, why would you put yourself out there in front of an opposing army when you were so recently shot? But I know that he can't exactly avoid his leadership duties. And I know that I can't argue with him when he is distracted by a million other tragedies and certainly not when there is dried blood streaking the side of his face.

I tilt his head down because I am too short to get a decent look.

"I'm fine," he says shortly.

"No, you're not," I sigh, though I am not sure I am referring to his injury.

I drag him along with me to the bathroom and force him to sit on the toilet seat when he tries to resist me.

"Take your jacket off," I say as I reach for a bottle of antiseptic solution.

He shrugs his jacket off, clearly not happy. "Is this really necessary?" he snaps. "It's a cut."

"Do you want to go to the infirmary?" I challenge with raised eyebrows. Technically, it is almost deep enough to require stitches, but I know he will refuse a trip to the doctor. "Hold still."

Tilting his head to the side, I lightly pour the antiseptic onto the gash. Tobias hisses between his teeth and closes his eyes so he won't shift. My eyes flick down to where his hand is gripping the sink, to the black ring on his finger, and I feel my stomach twist in a knot.

"You didn't tell me about the fight in the Pit," I begin disappointedly.

He scoffs. "You were the one who gave me the advice to remind the Dauntless of who I am. Now you're going to lecture me on the way I did it?"

I shake my head, dabbing around the laceration with a cotton ball. "I'm not lecturing you. I just wish you would have told me. I shouldn't have to find these things out from my friend."

An accidental touch to the wound sends him flinching away from me. Stepping away, I let him recover while I wet a cloth underneath the tap.

"I haven't gotten a chance to tell you," he defends. He stares down at his hands. "I haven't been sitting around on my ass the last week, you know."

"I didn't say you were," I mumble. But it still feels like you're avoiding me.

With a pause in the discussion, I start cleaning the blood from his temple on down. My fingers on my other hand graze the stubble on his jaw. Simply touching him opens a hole I didn't know I had fallen into.

"You need to talk to me, Tobias," I finally say.

There is an underlying topic that I hope is communicated through my tone: his mother. I am too hesitant about how he will react if I approach him with it now, when things are so fragile between us. Eventually, something will need to be said about the obvious issue plaguing him, about his childhood baggage stretching its claws around him when he had just escaped.

I'm trying to give him time to process his mother's decision and the overall losses that his faction has faced, but how much time is too much? What if he slips away?

Tobias is silent as I work. The reddish-brown transfers from his skin to the cloth somewhat easily. His expression betrays the inner-workings of his troubled mind.

"Is the bruising any better?" I ask. It has been days since I have seen the marks that the gunshot left.

A deep breath leaves his lungs. "Well, I don't notice it until I stand or sit, so," he answers disinterestedly.

So it is much worse than he lets on. How did he manage to leave two people unconscious on the Pit floor with an injury like that? The Dauntless in me is impressed. The wife in me...

"You can be honest, you know," I murmur. "You don't have to be strong around me if you don't want to."

It isn't a lack of strength to show weakness sometimes. To this day, he doesn't seem to understand that. After he cried in front of me following one of his recent near-death experiences, he didn't seem to look me in the eye for a day or so afterwards. Like he was embarrassed.

Tobias's face hardens. "You're acting like I'm falling apart. Just because times are tough doesn't mean you have to coddle me," he says.

"Supporting is not the same as coddling." I drop my hands so that he can turn to face me completely. "And I know that you're falling apart, even if you are stubborn enough to push me away. Your walls don't fool me."

His penetrating gaze remains on me until I break the tension, turning to wring out the cloth in the sink.

"This is what you do; this is how you respond to emotional trauma. So I do have to support you. You won't admit that you need help, but ever since I have met you, you have hidden yourself away from the rest of the world to be safe. You won't come out unless I step in," I finish.

Tobias is so used to being alone that he doesn't share the load because he doesn't expect anyone to be there to carry it. Despite being married, he doesn't resort to leaning on others when he can depend on himself.

I know this is his nature, but it wounds me when he won't speak to me. I thought we had made it to the point in our relationship where we had learned to express everything to each other, hopeful and ugly, trivial and crucial. Regardless of our past tendencies to lie.

Well, then there was the war's aftermath, and Evelyn's memory loss, and the baby. Every unimaginable outcome came crashing down upon us, just when we were becoming confident in our ability to be honest with each other.

We have dealt with more than the average couple does in their lifetime. Now, we have to conquer these unforeseen challenges.

But we can't if we fail to communicate.

His eyes are pleading past his indifference; he is desperate for me to understand without speaking.

I open the cabinet beneath the sink and take a few seconds to find some bandages. Then I carefully place one so that it pulls the skin together, an attempt to mend what is already split apart. It shouldn't have happened in the first place.

"Tris..." Tobias says softly. "I—"

Before he can get a word out, the baby starts whining in the other room. And it is like he is snapped back into reality in that instant, the way his expression sinks into a scowl.

My hands are tied. Obviously the baby has a more pressing need, but how can I leave him when he was about to finally talk to me?

I am the one silently begging him to understand now.

"Go," he says, breaking eye contact.

"Tobias," I breathe.

"Do what you need to do. It's fine."

But I know it isn't. If it were entirely up to him, this baby would not be our problem—my problem. As if on cue, the baby's cries escalate, and I am pulled away from him.

I am sympathetic when I promise him, "I'll be right back."

The baby gradually settles when I lift her into my arms. "Shhh," I hush her as I place the puppy in her hands and a pacifier in her mouth. I assume that she must have been disrupted by Tobias and I somehow. But I know this will happen again in a couple hours when there aren't any startling noises.

How long can the three of us go on like this?

Once she is silent, I carry her across the room while running my hand over her thin blonde hair. Tobias is sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching me warily.

He is a Dauntless leader with the lowest number of fears recorded in faction history. Yet, he seems scared of this harmless infant who is a victim of abuse just like he is.

Doesn't he know that I'm scared too? I did not exactly sign up for this—my conscience made the choice for me. I have zero experience, and I wish he would at least not despise my decision if he isn't going to be involved.

"What were you going to tell me?" I ask.

But it is clear that I missed my chance, that he has shut down. "Nothing," he grumbles.

The baby angles her head to search for the source of the deep voice. His returning gaze is full of guilt that he tries to mask.

He shakes his head, his arm muscles tight against his shirt when he rests his hands on his knees. "You said this wouldn't be permanent. How much longer are you going to do this?"

"Tobias—"

"Just leave it," he snaps. He stands up, finds a change of clothes and disappears into the bathroom before I have a chance to think of how to reply.

In my arms, the baby coos obliviously. I bite my lip as I stare at the cracked door, feeling like the brief progress we made was completely overwritten by one cry.

I hold her close like she is the last thing grounding me. Maybe she is; maybe if I didn't have her to take care of, my mind would be wound up and moments from relapse.

Is that what is holding me back from finding her a home, the comfortable distraction she is for me? Is it that the city is still somewhat dangerous, even with the factionless contained? Or are those just excuses I tell myself because she represents a future I am desperate to cling to? A future that Tobias is rejecting.

There are complex sentiments stirring in my head, and I am powerless to sort them out. As the baby drifts back off into sleep with her fingers tightened in my loose hair, I stare down at her, knowing that it is time I find her a home. I can't continue torturing Tobias with this added issue on top of everything else; it isn't right.

So why is it so hard to set her down after the inevitable decision is set into stone?

Doesn't that just suck that Tobias and Tris made it through literally everything, and just when you thought they were past the worst of their disagreements, a baby is thrown in to the mix?

I think this is a really interesting character dynamic because it is an unexpected and controversial situation. On one hand, Tobias isn't ready to be a father, much less to an adopted child, and it makes you angry at Tris for somewhat pushing him into something he isn't prepared for. On the other hand, Tris didn't have much of a choice when it came to taking in the baby so you can't blame her. Also, she is almost as unprepared as he is and didn't plan on this being long term.

Let's take a vote, what do you guys think is going to happen? If Tris gives up the baby, will there still be a strain on their relationship at this point?

Next chapter may or may not be a rough one... That's not really encouraging haha but stick around!