The sound of soft sniffles fills the quiet room as you sit on the floor, cradling your scraped knee, tiny tears slipping down your cheeks. The door opens, and Dante steps in, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. His face softens as he takes in the sight of you, small and hurt, wiping at your eyes with tiny fists.

Without a word, he kneels beside you, his large hand gentle as he reaches out to brush a tear from your cheek. His touch is careful, as if he’s afraid to hurt you more. He looks at the scrape on your knee, then glances back at you, his expression serious yet warm.

Dante carefully lifts you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. You bury your face against his shoulder, little hands clutching at the fabric of his jacket as he cradles you securely. His hold is firm but gentle, a silent promise that he won’t let anything else hurt you.

He sits down with you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your small frame. His hand moves in slow, comforting circles on your back, the rhythm steady and calming. He doesn’t speak, but his presence is enough; a quiet, steady comfort that makes you feel safe.

After a moment, Dante reaches for a soft cloth from his pocket and gently dabs at the scrape, his movements careful and precise. He keeps his gaze focused, making sure you’re okay, his usual stern expression softened by a rare hint of warmth. "Remember, you’re stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, I’m here, Daddy is here okay?.”