The Malibu home that once felt like a quiet escape for Steffy and Finn had grown strange in recent months. The rhythmic crash of the waves, which used to soothe them after long days, now echoed with a restless energy that reflected the deep strain on their marriage. Everything began shifting after Luna’s death. Grief seeped into each corner of their life, weighing down even the simplest conversations. What started as shared mourning slowly became a wedge, widening the distance between them until every word felt fragile.

Finn’s sorrow had awakened something intense inside him—something he believed was love, but often resembled fixation. He convinced himself that the only way to mend the hole Luna left behind was to bring another child into their lives. What he called hope, Steffy increasingly recognized as a desperate attempt to regain control. She understood trauma; she had lived through loss and danger for years. Yet every time Finn spoke about having another baby, she saw the haunted look in his eyes—nights where he woke screaming Luna’s name, mornings where he stared blankly at the ocean as if trying to will his life back into order.

Steffy carried her own scars, too. Losing Luna reopened old wounds she believed had long healed. She was just beginning to reclaim her sense of safety, to breathe without fear. Finn’s insistence on a new baby felt like a tightening rope, pulling her into a version of life she wasn’t ready to revisit. Their disagreements started quietly but escalated into sharp exchanges neither recognized. Finn insisted a child would make them whole again; Steffy insisted they already were—though even she wasn’t sure she believed it.

Outwardly, they remained the picture-perfect couple: the heroic doctor and the strong Forrester executive. But behind closed doors, their home had turned into a battlefield of unresolved grief and impossible expectations. Steffy buried herself in work to escape the suffocating atmosphere at home. Ridge noticed the strain in her eyes. Meanwhile, Finn threw himself deeper into hospital duties, surrounding himself with newborns as though proximity to new life could fill the void inside him. His colleagues whispered about his increasing detachment, the way he lingered over ultrasound screens like a man trying to rewrite his past.

The pressure only increased as Finn began appearing unannounced at Forrester, asking Steffy to talk, while she withdrew further into herself. One evening, as sunset washed their home in orange light, she finally broke. She told him plainly that his wish for another baby felt like an attempt to erase their loss, not heal it. Finn insisted it was his way of honoring Luna. But Steffy saw desperation, not devotion. After that, the cracks in their marriage widened.

Weeks passed with meals left untouched and conversations reduced to cold silence. Finn began keeping meticulous journals about fertility options, treatments, genetics—notes Steffy found by accident. They were precise and obsessive, and heartbreakingly absent of her. When she sought advice from Taylor, her mother reminded her that grief often turns people harsh without them realizing it. Steffy confessed she loved Finn deeply, yet no longer recognized herself in their marriage.

The breaking point arrived when Finn presented a file detailing a fertility plan he had started without consulting her. His urgency terrified her. She told him he wasn’t helping her—only feeding his own fear. That night, she packed her things and left, leaving Finn alone with the echo of a door closing on everything he had tried to force into existence.

Finn spiraled quietly, punishing himself with memories and sleepless nights. He eventually collapsed from exhaustion at work. When he awoke to find Steffy by his side, she made it clear he needed help before their marriage completely dissolved. This time, he didn’t fight her. Something inside him finally cracked open, revealing not anger, but surrender.

Together, they entered therapy—not as lovers trying to glue their marriage back together, but as two people facing the wreckage of obsession. Progress was slow and painful. Finn confronted the guilt that had fueled his desperation. Steffy confronted her fear of losing herself in trying to save him. There were setbacks, but moments of connection, too: soft conversations, watching the children sleep, silent walks on the beach.

Months later, Finn brought Steffy to the spot where they once watched the sunset after Luna’s death. As gold and violet streaked the sky, he told her he still wanted a future with her—but only when they were both ready, not driven by grief. For the first time in a long while, Steffy saw the man she loved—the man who had finally learned that healing wasn’t about fixing brokenness with more brokenness, but learning to carry the cracks with grace.

And standing there beneath the quiet rhythm of the waves, Steffy realized that healing didn’t mean perfection or forgetting. It meant peace returning slowly, one fragile moment at a time.