I timed my previous wife's pregnancy to the moment to have my son

Opening Scene
The evening sunlight cuts through the restaurant's soft glow, painting warm shadows across the polished wooden tables. The faint sound of clinking glasses and soft conversations hum in the background, but at the corner table, where the world seems a little quieter, Jack sits, elbows on the table, a half-empty glass of wine before him. His gaze is distant, lost in thought. Jeeny sits opposite him, her expression carefully guarded as she watches the lines of his face shift. The air between them is charged, thick with something unsaid — but tonight, it’s more than just the passing of time that hangs between them. It’s about the choices we make, the obsessions we have, and the strange ways we try to control the world around us.

Host: The candle on their table flickers, its flickering light casting momentary shadows across their faces. Jack takes a deep breath, and as the wine swirls gently in his glass, it’s clear that something is about to spill over — a conversation, a revelation, a truth long kept at the edges. Jeeny senses it, her fingers lightly tapping against the stem of her glass, waiting for the right moment. The noise around them fades, and it’s just the two of them — for now.

Jeeny:
(casually, yet with curiosity)
“Tell me, Jack… What’s the deal with Bob Dylan? You’ve mentioned him a few times, but I don’t think I’ve ever really heard why you’re so drawn to him. I mean, it’s not just the music, is it? There’s something deeper.”

Jack:
(leaning back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth)
“Bob Dylan... He’s not just a musician, Jeeny. He’s an idea, a legend. A reflection of every dream and frustration in the world, wrapped in a voice that feels like it’s been torn from the very soul of the planet. But I’ll tell you this — it’s more than just the music. It’s about timing. About control. You see, I timed my son’s birth to the day of Bob Dylan’s 50th birthday.”

Jeeny:
(raising an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping)
“Wait… what? You… you actually timed your son’s birth? You can’t be serious.”

Jack:
(grinning, but with a touch of pride)
“I’m dead serious. There’s no bigger fan than me. I planned everything, from the very beginning. The moment my wife and I decided to have a child, I made sure the timing was perfect. Dylan’s 50th. That day. I don’t care how insane it sounds. I wanted my son to share that day with someone who represented everything I believed in.”

Host:
The room seems to hold its breath as Jeeny takes in what he’s just said. The sounds of the restaurant swirl around them, yet their little corner of the world feels suspended in time. Jeeny leans forward slightly, her eyes softening as she watches Jack, as if trying to make sense of his words. The candle on the table flickers again, casting a momentary light on the tension that dances between them.

Jeeny:
(softly, still processing)
“That’s… that’s a lot of pressure to put on a kid, don’t you think? I mean, to be born on that exact day, to carry that kind of expectation. What if he’s not a fan of Bob Dylan? What if he’s nothing like you?”

Jack:
(shrugs, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado)
“Maybe, but what better day to bring a life into the world than that day? It’s not about making him into me — it’s about giving him a connection, a legacy. Bob Dylan’s music has always been about finding your voice, about carving out something that’s yours in a world full of noise. I wanted my son to have that sense of destiny, like he was part of something bigger than himself.”

Jeeny:
(skeptical, yet intrigued)
“And what if that wasn’t enough? What if the plan didn’t go exactly as you imagined? What if you didn’t get the timing right, or something else came up? Can you still accept the child for who they are, regardless of the date they’re born on?”

Host:
Jack’s face tightens slightly, the smile slipping from his lips. His eyes flicker toward the glass of wine before him, and for a brief moment, he seems to question the intentions behind his past decisions. Jeeny’s question hits deeper than she meant, and the room feels colder for a moment, as if the world has shifted just slightly on its axis.

Jack:
(after a long pause, with a quiet sigh)
“I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t think it through enough. It’s easy to think you can control the world, plan every moment — but the truth is, you can’t. You can set everything up, line up all the pieces, but the world doesn’t care about your timing. It doesn’t owe you anything.”

Jeeny:
(gently, but with a knowing smile)
“That’s the thing, Jack. You can’t force meaning onto life. You can’t make your son’s life a reflection of your dreams. It’s a journey for him to carve out. Sure, Dylan’s 50th might have been a great day to have him born on, but timing everything like that, making it about control... it’s like writing the story for him before he even gets to live it. His life won’t fit into your plan, no matter how hard you try.”

Host:
The tension between them starts to dissipate as Jack exhales, the last of his defenses crumbling in the face of her words. Jeeny’s gentle tone cuts through the sharpness of his earlier certainty. The candlelight flickers once again, and Jack finally seems to see it — the truth in her words.

Jack:
(sighing deeply, a slow realization dawning)
“Maybe I’ve been trying to control too much. Maybe it’s not about making him into some reflection of me, or of Bob Dylan, or anything else. It’s about letting him live his own life, find his own place in the world.”

Jeeny:
(softly, with warmth)
“You’ve got it, Jack. It’s not about the day he’s born. It’s about the life he makes of it. You can give him your love for Dylan, but you can’t force him to live it for you.”

Host:
Jack’s shoulders relax, and for the first time that evening, he seems at ease. The restaurant around them continues to hum, the sounds of life moving on, but in this quiet corner, a small shift has occurred. Jeeny smiles softly as she watches him, understanding that, like any great story, sometimes it’s not about the beginning. It’s about the journey, the twists, and the moments along the way.

Jack:
(quietly, almost with a chuckle)
“Well, I guess it’s time to let him be his own person.”

Jeeny:
(nods, smiling)
“Exactly. And if he’s meant to love Bob Dylan, he’ll figure it out on his own.”

Host:
As the candle flickers once more, the moment seems to settle into something new. The plans they make, the timing they strive for, are all part of a bigger, ever-changing picture. And in that realization, both of them find a small piece of peace.