There is always calm before a storm.

Lately, Nate had been in a surprisingly good mood. His father's unplanned coming out had lifted a weight off his shoulders. His parents' separation was now official, Cal had fully moved out and Marsha had bought a Peloton to ease back into the dating world. Bud had agreed to give them one of his rental properties once the baby arrived. Nate was happy. Cassie was happy.

Life was good.

This meant she had spent the last few weeks picturing her future. As her belly expanded little by little, she tried to imagine what her baby would look like, she mused on whether she would be having a little boy or little girl.

In the early stages of her pregnancy, when she first found out, she had pictured herself having a little girl. Be it the fact that she was one of two sisters, or that she liked typically girly things, but her first instinct told her she was carrying a girl.

She imagined her as blonde, adorable, a total daddy's girl. She pictured herself teaching her daughter to ice skate. She smiled thinking of the cute little outfits she would wear.

She imagined Nate to be super protective and scaring teenage boys away. She pictured him totally smitten with her. She pictured him being the dad she wished she still had. She wished for her daughter to grow up with the unconditional love of her father and without seeking male validation.

She imagined her growing up to be beautiful and caring and smart and happy. She worried about what her life would turn out like, how boys would treat her. She hoped to give her more confidence and self love than she felt.

But then she had spoken to Nate's grandmother.

From that moment, her perception and dreams had changed completely.

For Cassie, who had spent most of her young life chasing love from boys, the thought of having a son filled her heart with joy. She would have a little guy to love unconditionally and to be loved by. Suddenly, all she could picture was a baby boy, a mini Nate, another addition to the Jacobs legacy, a son. She became infatuated with the idea of carrying a baby boy. She wanted to give Nate a boy.

She imagined how happy it would make Nate to have a son. She could picture them playing sports in the backyard, going surfing, being the best of buddies.

A firstborn son, for how outdated of a concept it sounded, made her feel a sense of pride, of achievement. It was hard to explain really. Maybe she was more connected to a traditional view of a household than she realised, most likely a consequence of growing up in a broken home which had resulted in her seeking an idealistic family life. The American dream.

So when the Doctor looked their way and said "It's a boy." she turned to her boyfriend beaming, happy tears in her eyes, anticipating the wide smile on his face. I did it, she thought.

But Nate's face was sullen, his jaw tight, his eyes dull. He was brooding.

He didn't say much on the car ride home, whilst Cassie continued to voice her excitement for the arrival of their baby boy. He gave her the occasional forced smile and she could feel her anxiety rise as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Why wasn't he happy?

What had she done wrong?

And while Cassie tried her hardest to keep the big smile on her face while showing Marsha her sonogram, she could feel Nate remove himself completely from the interaction. Sure, he was sitting at the bench across from her, but the look in his eyes told her his mind was a million miles elsewhere. A million miles away from her.

"I'm heading out." He said suddenly, grabbing his car keys and leaving Cassie stunned. Marsha had yelled out his name, but he made his way out without a second glance.

She fought back the tears pooling in her eyes.

"He better get his act together before this baby comes." Marsha tutted away while putting the sonogram up on the fridge.

So Cassie moped around the house and ate her dinner silently, with no word from Nate on when he might return home. She tried to wrack her brain for any indication he had wanted a girl instead, she replayed every little conversation, every loving glance- but came up short.

Like she had done many nights since Nate had forced his way into her life, she found herself crying in bed maniacally refreshing her phone for any sign of her boyfriend. A text, a call, a cameo on someone's Instagram story. Nothing. As she left him the umpteenth voicemail, she asked herself if she could be any more pathetic.

Why did she do this? Why did she allow herself to fall apart each time?

It's well after 1am when Pumpkin's manic barking wakes her up. She watches Nate stumble around the room, so drunk he can barely hold himself up- it makes her wonder how he even managed to get home and if he drove in this state. This man of mine has a death wish.

"What the hell, Nate?" She whisper-yells getting out of bed. He mumbles words incomprehensibly as his large hands reach towards her face to stroke her cheek. "I've been so worried."

She awkwardly tries to help him out of his clothes, his long limbs flopping about, but he keeps trying to pull her in for a kiss. He is playful and completely drunk and she actually contemplates strangling him.

"You need to get into bed." She tells him sternly, pushing him towards the bed. As his back hits the mattress, his hand reaches out to touch her swollen belly- the silk of her top highlighting her protruding belly button.

"We're having a boy." He whispers looking up at her briefly, before turning his gaze back to her belly. His long finger traces the outline of her tummy and Cassie wonders if he has officially lost his mind. "Every man in my family is so fucked up, y'know?"

He hears her whisper a soft hey as her hand reaches out to stroke his hair. He inches closer to her, resting his cheek on her tummy, breathing in and out as the room around him seems to spin uncontrollably.

"I'm so fucking scared, Cass." His voice shakes as he allows himself to open up to her.

As her confused blue orbits meet his sad chocolate eyes, she tries to understand why finding out the gender of their baby had suddenly hit him so hard. He had weeks, actually months, to come to terms with the idea he was going to be a father. He even seemed excited.

What Cassie may have not realised was that in all this he had really only focused on what having a child meant for him as a teenager, or them as a couple, or his future. He hadn't stopped to fully think of the implications of bringing a new life into the world. And now, the cute idea of building a family with a sweet girl had turned into a terrifying reality for Nate.

They were having a boy. He was going to have a son.

There was no denying Nate came from a long line of flawed, angry men. From grandfather, to father, to son, Nate carried a burdened inheritance of warped emotional intelligence and generational toxicity. His family was fucked, for a lack of better words.

For him, the Doctor telling them he was responsible for creating a new male member of his family had made it suddenly seem so real. How could he bring another him into the world? Another Cal? Another Bud? How could he pass on this poisonous genetic to an innocent child?

A child who would have to live with the burden placed upon him by his father. Like Nate had before him. And Cal had before Nate. And Bud had before Cal.

How could a son of his not be doomed from the womb?

Poor kid, he thought.

He listens to Cassie's soothing voice as she helps him under the covers, his pillow feels damp from her many tears. She tells him it's okay over and over again.

"I'm terrified he will be like me." He finally admits to her, his face resting on her collarbone and his heavy arm slung across her middle. "Or that I'm going to fuck up his life like my dad did with me." She can feel the dampness on her skin from his eyes.

Cassie lies there listening to his terrified rambling. She lies there until she hears the familiar steadiness of his breathing. She lies there as he drifts off into slumber, his hand clutching her silk camisole like a child.

She lets the weight of his body hold her down to the bed, trapped almost under his large frame.

Only then, when she's certain he's in a deep drunken sleep, does she let the magnitude of her situation sink in and the tears flow freely down her face.

What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

I never needed you like I do right now, I never hated you like I do right now.

'Cause all you ever do is make me cry