Another day. 

INT. JO AND LINK'S APPARTMENT – BEDROOM – NIGHT

The room is dark, quiet.
Jo lies on her side, facing Link. Eyes closed but not fully asleep.

Link is beside her, awake, staring at the ceiling. 

A long, comfortable silence.

LINK
(low, thoughtful)
This place is going to feel very small very fast.

Jo hums softly — acknowledging, not engaging.

JO
Mm.

Link shifts slightly, careful.

LINK
Not right away.
But once the twins are here…
We’re going to need more room.

Jo shifts closer, resting her head against his chest.

JO
Probably.

There’s no resistance in it.
Just agreement without energy.

Link turns his head toward her.

LINK
I’ve been thinking we might need to look for something bigger.
Not now.
Just… soon.

JO
I agree.
But I don’t have the energy for that right now. 

Her voice is soft.
Present.
But she doesn’t add more.

Link lets it sit.

Another pause.

LINK
And when the twins are born…
I’m definitely taking extended paternity leave.

Jo opens her eyes now, looking at him.

JO
You are?

LINK
Yeah.
With twins?
That’s not even a question.

A small smile ghosts across her face.

LINK (CONT’D)
I want to be home with you.
Get us through that first stretch.
Figure out our rhythm before anything else starts moving again.

Jo studies him — touched, a little overwhelmed.

JO
(teases him gently)
After months of longing for that OR.

LINK
(smiles faintly)
Yeah.
But I’d hate missing that more.

A quiet beat.

LINK (CONT’D)
And after that… when I do go back…
I was thinking part-time, at first.

Jo exhales slowly.

LINK (CONT’D)
Ease into it.
Especially if the twins are at daycare at the hospital —
it could actually be… smooth.

He hesitates, then adds gently:

LINK (CONT’D)
And maybe when you go back…
that could give you some room too.
If you want it.

That’s the moment.
Jo doesn’t pull away — but the effort to hold all of that is visible.

She pauses, searching for honesty.

JO
I want to hear all of this.
I do.

A beat.

JO (CONT’D)
I just…
I can’t really think that far ahead right now.

It’s not dismissal.
It’s capacity.

Link nods immediately.

LINK
I know.

He shifts closer, protective, grounding.

LINK (CONT’D)
We still got time to figure it all out. 

Her eyelids are already heavy.

JO (CONT’D)
I’m just so tired.

Link watches her breathing slow as the words trail off.

The future — bigger space, babies, leave, daycare, a gentler return — hangs there quietly.
Unfinished.
Unburdened.

LINK
(soft)
Okay.

He doesn’t push.
He just stays.

Jo drifts off, still holding his arm.

Link remains awake a moment longer, staring into the dark.

For the first time, it’s clear to him:
She’s not avoiding what comes next.
She’s already carrying it.

Carefully, he turns toward her, protective.
Tomorrow can wait.

FADE OUT.