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Stan groaned as he unstrapped his 2-week-old son from his car seat. Sterling Marsh was a handful, most can say. The thing was, he was never planned. In fact, Sterling's parents weren't even married.

It was a drunken escapade at the New Year Party Stan pulled off at his and Wendy's apartment, months after they and their friends have all finished college. They made out, then, of course, one thing led to another, and 9 months later, Sterling was born.

Sterling had Wendy's soft lips and pointy nose, along with her very dark shade of black hair, but his fair skin, his dark green eyes, and his overall looks, that all came from the man who at the moment brought him home from his first doctor's appointment. Stan straightened his grey plaid shirt as he opened the front door of his apartment. He was just about ready to prepare his son for bed so he himself could get some shut-eye after a long day. He just hoped his fiancee would not mind. He carefully walked up the stairs and down the hall towards the nursery that was set up shortly before Sterling was born. Stan had to thank his closest friend Kyle for helping him assemble for the baby.

Stan set his son down on the crib and studied him for a moment. Soon enough, Sterling's eyes began to droop and he soon fell asleep. Stan let out a relaxed sigh as he exited the room and into his and Wendy's. It was strangely dark, but Stan could have guessed it was because he assumed Wendy was asleep, and it was common knowledge to anyone that Wendy was cranky if she doesn't get her beauty sleep.

Despite the dark setting, Stan noticed the outline of Wendy's body underneath the covers. He carefully got on his side of the bed, but when he pulled the covers slightly towards him, he noticed something that made his heart skip a beat. The covers that supposedly covered Wendy fell off of the solid structure underneath it, revealing it not to be Wendy, but just a bunch of pillows piled up, along with a note.

Stan slowly picked up the note, his hand shaking hyperactively. He carefully read the contents of the note.

Stanley,

I am sorry, but I cannot do this anymore. I promise I will return one day, but for now, please take care of our little boy for me.

Yours,

Wendy


It had been a solid year since that dreaded day for Stan Marsh, and it had been the most difficult of his entire life. From that day, everything happened in order. The looks of sympathy given by his friends, minus Cartman, who simply laughed saying that what Wendy had done was "something only a true bitch would do." His words, not Stan's. Kyle offered to take a year off from Law School in order to help Stan out, but Stan refused since his parents were retired and had the time to watch over Sterling while Stan went to work as a Field Geophysicist.

Speaking of his parents, Stan already expected the reaction from the moment he found the note. Sharon went on rambling about how she knew Wendy was the same troubled girl from school. And as for Randy, he immediately drove all the way to the Testaburger residence, and boy, did he and Wendy's father have a jolly good time tongue-lashing each other, didn't they?

Meanwhile, Sharon and Wendy's parents Jeffery and Linda cooperated greatly with one another, as well as working with the police in order to find Wendy, wherever she was.

Now, Sterling had just turned one, and here Stan was, starting his Saturday morning trying to calm his son down from yet another fit. Stan was still in his white robe, and his hair was a complete mess. There were bags underneath his eyes, indicating that he had a hard time sleeping. Not because of Sterling's crying, since it had just recently happened, but because for the past few months, Stan has had trouble falling asleep as he would have to fight off these thoughts of failing as a father, as he had just recently accepted the possibility that he may have to spend the next 18 years or more taking care of Sterling on his own.

Just then, right when Sterling finally calmed down, the doorbell rang, causing Stan to groan.

What now?! He mentally screamed. He set his son down in the high chair in front of a bowl of oatmeal. Stan limped his exhausted body all the way to the front door. He opened it to say hello, then let out a gasp. It was as if time had stopped for just a minute as he examined the figure that was standing outside. She had a sad smile on her face but looked horrible. Bags underneath her own eyes that were similar to Stan, except Stan, only looked as if this entire morning messed him up. This woman looked as if this whole entire year had not been too kind to her.

"Hey...Stan," she spoke nervously. It was, of course, Wendy, and she had returned. "How are you doing?"


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